By about 8.15 pm on the 30th of April, I was single-handed again, with Dot off in her cab towards her car, parked at Billing Marina. I was at Gayton, close to the Marina there, and completely shattered.

I hammered the pins in, tied up, put up the windscreen and the cockpit cover, and made one of those instant boating stews - small tin of spuds, tin of stewed steak, tin of peas, all in the one pot; delicious and warming, accompanied by a couple of large glasses of vin rouge, then into the pit. I was so cream-crackered it took me ages to get to sleep, but eventually I went off, surrounded by a very thick duvet, and lulled off by the not-so-musical drone of the dear old M1 . . .

The intention was to get a bit of rest, doze about, and generally relax after quitting my job as one of the duty shift managers at Suffolk Doctors on Call in Ipswich - a nice enough job, although largely during unsocial hours, with quite a lot of pressure when things went awry, which they surprisingly often did!

The weather was quite chilly, and as I'd arranged with Dot that she'd join me the following weekend at Gayton, I wasn't inclined to move far that Thursday morning. I brewed up, and took my tea back to bed, decidedly cosy under that toasty duvet. I read a bit of a book, made some lunch, and took a short meander along the Grand Union. Very restful.

Dot wasn't arriving until Saturday afternoon, and I got a bit jarred off with my own company for a while. Although I have spent years on my own, and several months living alone aboard a yacht, you can fall out of the ways of keeping yourself reasonably cheerful, and that is what happened to me. Still I got on; wandered round to Gayton Marina, sorted an overnight marina stay for us, and two nights parking for Dot.

On Saturday, I had a nice phone call from Dot at about 1.30, to say that she'd reached Billing. At about 3.50 - two hours and twently minutes later - she arrived at Gayton, having given herself the completely unguided tour of Northampton and environs. We'd had several nice chats on the phone, but the only maps I had were in the Nicholson guides, which don't show much beyond the nearest villages. Nevertheless, she arrived!

On the Sunday, we had a delightful little trip up the canal, including an alfresco lunch by the towpath. We stayed overnight by the towpath, close to Bugbrooke wharf, and had a charming stroll that evening. On Bank Holiday Monday, the 5th May, we meandered back to Blisworth, then back again to Gayton, where she left at about four-ish, and had a good journey home - I'd primed her with the route back to Northampton, so she could get on the A45 back to home.

During the following week, I took my time to get to Braunston - from Gayton to Bugbrooke again on Tuesday, where I had a smashing natter with a liveaboard, and a liveaboard black-and-white collie, Bess, on to the bottom of Whilton locks on Wednesday, up the flight and through the Braunston tunnel on Thursday, and down that flight to Braunston itself on Friday. For the Whilton flight, I was in company with the 70ft narrowboat Shalimar, and couldn't have wished for more friendly and helpful people to travel with, but I did the Braunston flight on my own - something I wanted to do anyway, and there were no boats in sight to do it with. It was quite hard work, and I discovered hidden disadvantage with cruisers - one my right angled aft-quarter fenders got hooked up on some eroded brickwork as the lock was dropping, so I had to close the bottom gates in a hurry and let a few hundred gallons back in from the top to float Catcho off again!

I don't find that the lock concerned me as much as the tunnel did - I wasn't looking forward to meeting an oncoming narrowboat, especially in the hands of some of the hire-boat crews; very interesting boating techniques, some of them have! But in fact I joined a small convoy of three boats, and we went through without meeting anyone at all. Much relief from the stout party on the wheel!

I stayed at Braunston then, enjoying the pleasant surroundings and village facilities - excellent bit of rump steak on Friday night, and pork on Saturday. Nice to discover reasonable shopping facilities, at least once - English canals don't seem to go through towns and bigger villages like some of the French ones do, at least on this strictly limited bit of experience. I'll have to sort out my stores and food planning a bit better, I think, although when Dot joins ship we'll probably be eating out once or twice a week, so I can satisfy my cravings for serious red meat then!

16th May, 2003