Having listened to the wind & rain most of the night, I suggested G text NB Caxton to see if they were changing plans & staying put (what I actually said was something along the lines of, "if those daft buggers are moving in this lot, they can go by themselves"). Having been informed (by my social secretary) that, "not bloody likely" were they moving I turned over for another 30mins & then sorted out a couple of very important items such as the start times of both lots of Strictly & would it clash with either lot of X Factor - no it wouln't. Leisurely cooked poached eggs on toast for breakfast & we had the makings of a VERY nice day, despite the weather. Nicely chilled, I started peeling a ton of veg for a big heartwarming pot of soup (for chilly cruisers on the morrow), when I became aware of further comms between boats, "....forecast not clearing...we need water.....dogs need walking.....leaving in 40 mins"
How did we get from, "not bloody likely", to, "leaving in 40 mins"?
So, here we are, just beyond Yelvertoft having watered, walked, disposed of rubbish & re-moored: surrounded by wet things steaming & dripping from every available surface - I promise to let Graham & the boys down when the worst of them has dripped dry. The walk wasn't, actually, too bad because Lesley & I eschewed the tow path (canal winds & loops) for the direct, shingled, path straight into the village & hung a right down the road, rejoining the boats at the water point with only one flash flood to be negotiated.
Despite the continuing heavy rain, Daisy insisted on going out & caught 4 mice in less than 45 mins, at one point I spotted her pouncing whilst another she'd caught was still in her mouth (Lesley suggested I try feeding her, but that seems a bit radical). In fact, since we started travelling with Caxton, Daisy has been quite the drama queen - I think it was the first afternoon we moored up together and only just had time for Lesley to pop the champagne cork for Joe & Lesleys inaugaral cruise on Caxton (collection to Marina doesn,t really count) when Graham spotted her (Daisy, not Lesley) swimming down the far side of the boat! We hadn't even had time to put her escape fenders down, but was very gratifed to see that she scrambled out over the arnco with little difficulty. A day or two later, both boats were ready to pull pins, but we were a Daisy short of a crew. Wandered up and down calling her until I heard her distress call: she was on an old barge hull on the OTHER side of ths canal & clearly not wanting to swim back to me if there was an alternative on offer. One day, when she's old enough to understand, I'll sit her down & explain to her that she is a cat.
How did we get from, "not bloody likely", to, "leaving in 40 mins"?
So, here we are, just beyond Yelvertoft having watered, walked, disposed of rubbish & re-moored: surrounded by wet things steaming & dripping from every available surface - I promise to let Graham & the boys down when the worst of them has dripped dry. The walk wasn't, actually, too bad because Lesley & I eschewed the tow path (canal winds & loops) for the direct, shingled, path straight into the village & hung a right down the road, rejoining the boats at the water point with only one flash flood to be negotiated.
Despite the continuing heavy rain, Daisy insisted on going out & caught 4 mice in less than 45 mins, at one point I spotted her pouncing whilst another she'd caught was still in her mouth (Lesley suggested I try feeding her, but that seems a bit radical). In fact, since we started travelling with Caxton, Daisy has been quite the drama queen - I think it was the first afternoon we moored up together and only just had time for Lesley to pop the champagne cork for Joe & Lesleys inaugaral cruise on Caxton (collection to Marina doesn,t really count) when Graham spotted her (Daisy, not Lesley) swimming down the far side of the boat! We hadn't even had time to put her escape fenders down, but was very gratifed to see that she scrambled out over the arnco with little difficulty. A day or two later, both boats were ready to pull pins, but we were a Daisy short of a crew. Wandered up and down calling her until I heard her distress call: she was on an old barge hull on the OTHER side of ths canal & clearly not wanting to swim back to me if there was an alternative on offer. One day, when she's old enough to understand, I'll sit her down & explain to her that she is a cat.
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