Our First Visitor

Before we left Ros was brandishing invitations to just about everyone we know to come for a visit as if we were embarking on some great country house escape forgetting that a 57 foot narrow boat has not been designed with entertaining in mind. I've already explained how narrow boating definitions of size are other wordly especially in the bedding department where to accommodate my familiarity with a proper king size bed at home Ros and I have taken to occupying separate "double" beds on board. 

So it was with not a little trepidation on my part that we learnt that our first visitor was to be our middle son Giles only a couple of days after we had embarked on our voyage. 

Now those of you who know Giles will be familiar with his 6'6" height and the fact that since taking up Finn and now America's Cup sailing his physique more resembles Atlas or a young Arnold Schwarzenegger than the skinny kid who was nicknamed gangly bean head. His 100 kilo frame is pure muscle and we've lost sight of the width of his shoulders thanks to the fitness regime ruthlessly imposed on him by his Italian yachting masters.  Can you now understand my trepidation?

He was briefly in the country between Finn World Cup events giving little flexibility in dates and so we sent him postcodes for his sat nav to locate a pub by a bridge we anticipated reaching at Rowington in the evening. Fortunately the magnificent spread sheet (I feel another acronym coming on here) had done its calculations well and we duly arrived on schedule at bridge 63.  

Point of information; all canal bridges are numbered, a great aid to navigation when you've been lulled into a numb stupor standing for hours at the helm crawling over endless cow filled countryside and have no idea where the hell you are.  

Anyway, back to our first boat guest. 

A phone call announced he had arrived, found the towpath and was approaching our vessel. We rushed out to greet the lad only to be confronted by the biggest smirk and a "what the...." clearly indicating his disbelief that we had actually gone through with this mad cap idea. Reprimands over from his highly sensitive mother he was invited aboard. 

Now I admit we are still pretty new to this lark but we have been on and off Fandango enough times to know that she is a pretty stable lass. Well, neither of us were prepared for her violent listing when Giles leapt on starting a rocking motion we're sure the poor old girl had never experienced in her years with the MN or other guests. As he moved down inside the boat the rocking continued and we suddenly got a tinge of seasickness, something we had not prepared for in our marathon packing inventory. 

Just one night did he say? Shame....

We had sensibly planned to eat at the local pub and so could escape before nausea overtook us and spent a delightful evening at the local pub the Tom O the Woods. 

Surprisingly Giles slept well in the dinette bed usually occupied by his mother claiming it was at least 6'6" long and comfy enough. Hurrah for him I thought as my night was pretty sleepless squeezed into that so called double bed and in constant fear of tumbling into the corridor every time I turned. Poor Ros. 

The morning saw us take our guest on a cruise and experience the delight of migrating from the Grand Union onto the Stratford-on-Avon Canal at Kingswood junction.  This is a very picturesque and photogenic spot with wrought iron footbridges, pretty cottages and gardens fronting the canal and the first narrow lock of our trip. These smaller versions only hold one boat so no-one to help share the work from now on.

Ros had been attempting to instruct Giles in the finer points of narrow boat handling as he was keen to helm. Paying little attention, he of course took to it like a duck to water perfectly executing a tricky 90 degree turn down the link to the Stratford canal and then effortlessly entering the first of the narrow locks without a touch and an enormous grin. Surely he wasn't having fun?

And how dare he beat us at our own game? 

After a couple more near perfect lock transitions it was time to get him off the helm before he set a standard we'd never match.  We had the Lapworth Flight to climb -  18 little beauties all against us of course.  

We had a professional America's Cup  grinder in our midst.  

Time to make proper use of those muscles.