Along the way

In view of the rain promised from mid-morning, we set out from Market Drayton just after 7.30. The Tyrley five (sounds like a 60s band!) no longer hold the terror for us that they did six years ago, but the cheeky chappie you pass as you approach the first of the locks still hasn't caught anything.

At the water point at the top of the flight we tried to fill the tank, as we wanted to run the washing machine, but the pressure was minimal and we gave up after about 15 minutes. On the moorings just above the locks is NB Spirit of Phoebe, who would appear to have been a hobbit.

The rain duly came and we decided to tie up at a spot marked in Nicholson's guide as being the location of the Wharf Inn, one of two isolated inns along this stretch about whose continuing existence reviewers have often marvelled. We shall pass the Anchor tomorrow – last week as we came by was the first time we'd ever seen it actually open. But as for the Wharf Inn (not to be confused with the excellent Wharf Tavern some miles back), it is, alas, now merely a private residence (at least, that's what the notice on the door said when we went to look). It's called, unsurprisingly, "The Old Wharf" – probably a very useful name when you come to sell the property.

The wharf itself is a new mooring for us, and very nice too in the sunshine that eventually came out, though that was a little late for me to continue with any of the painting tasks I have planned. And we may not have much time for painting stops over the next few days, either. Our journey to Fazeley will need to be interrupted when we pass our marina next week – this morning's muesli interacted destructively with a rear right bottom tooth filling. We'll have to call in, pick up the car and pay a flying visit to the south coast.