A dream of English beauty
Slept a big 4.5 hours, and woke sans crushing hangover feeling somewhat better. Shipmates astir after sixish, all brighter and better than yesterday after our slightly more subdued night. I walked out and took photographs of the misted predawn fields and canals, shoes soaking in the wet grass. We were soon underway again. Murray and Dion making a big breakfast, as we commenced another idyllic sunny day. I sat in the prow passing through a dream of English beauty and chatting to my shipmates. Barging is a beautiful way to see the country, and the enforced slowness, brought about by going through locks, and the sedateness of the engine, has the potential to be wonderfully restful.
A prehistoric looking heron burst up from the vegetation early in the day and we passed swans and cygnets,ducks and ducklings, and smaller birds disappearing into the reeded banks. Glimpses of fish in the murky water, and they made little rings as they broke surface on the still water. Reflections made it a photographer's paradise, but the one shot got away from me; a floating bunch of flowers making me think of a sinking Ophelia.
Passing people moored up in the middle of nowhere in the sunshine, and tranquility (until we went past them rowdily) looked enviably relaxed. People on barges, with one or two exceptions, were very cheerful, calling out greetings and cheery remarks as our barges passed.
Nigel had asked for his wife Sally to pick him up midday, and as we stopped for lunch, mooring in vegetation which we crossed, piratically enough with a gangplank, to disembark. Pat and I had a final beer with everyone, and made off with Nigel and Sally and their two little daughters.
Sally drove us to Bicester North station, where we trained non-stop to Marylebone, and parting company with Pat, I made my way down to Brighton. Really happy to be home with Lorraine. After a long, much-needed shower, nice cups of tea, and a delicous homecooked meal, I basked on the gold sofa, with Lorraine and Calliope, before heading to bed at 8:30 unable to keep my eyes open.
Below many more to come. This is a few minutes before dawn. Simon just visible on the Barge moored somewhere close to the middle of nowhere; sunrise; green canal.
A prehistoric looking heron burst up from the vegetation early in the day and we passed swans and cygnets,ducks and ducklings, and smaller birds disappearing into the reeded banks. Glimpses of fish in the murky water, and they made little rings as they broke surface on the still water. Reflections made it a photographer's paradise, but the one shot got away from me; a floating bunch of flowers making me think of a sinking Ophelia.
Passing people moored up in the middle of nowhere in the sunshine, and tranquility (until we went past them rowdily) looked enviably relaxed. People on barges, with one or two exceptions, were very cheerful, calling out greetings and cheery remarks as our barges passed.
Nigel had asked for his wife Sally to pick him up midday, and as we stopped for lunch, mooring in vegetation which we crossed, piratically enough with a gangplank, to disembark. Pat and I had a final beer with everyone, and made off with Nigel and Sally and their two little daughters.
Sally drove us to Bicester North station, where we trained non-stop to Marylebone, and parting company with Pat, I made my way down to Brighton. Really happy to be home with Lorraine. After a long, much-needed shower, nice cups of tea, and a delicous homecooked meal, I basked on the gold sofa, with Lorraine and Calliope, before heading to bed at 8:30 unable to keep my eyes open.
Below many more to come. This is a few minutes before dawn. Simon just visible on the Barge moored somewhere close to the middle of nowhere; sunrise; green canal.
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