It's a Dog's Life

Many of you have been enquiring after our dog Phoebe and how she has adapted to life aboard.  Some of you even seem more concerned about her well being than my own but I'll not belabour the point. 

Well, all I can say is she seems to be in heaven. Being the confined space that is a narrow boat means she is never far away from either of us thus satisfying her driving ambition to spend as much time as possible in our company pretending to be a person. This proximity extends as well to bed time when unlike at home in Scotland where she is shut in the utility room to sleep in her basket here she starts off being settled on her blanket in front of the fire only to migrate in the night to lie either alongside Ros or me in the dreaded shuffle corridor. She clearly thinks this is a major treat as it enables her to wake us in the morning with a lick or three to hands or face. 

A fairly quiet dog we do occasionally hear the rumbling sound of her snores and her nighttime visits to her water bowl for some early hour refreshment but otherwise its a painless presence unless of course you try an unlit visit to the toilet and trip spectacularly on the reclining hound blocking the shuffle corridor. 

How she's going to settle back to the solitude of her dog basket I don't know. "Maybe she doesn't have to" says Ros dreamily. What, I cry. Is that a suggestion we carry on this narrow boat business beyond our 14 weeks? Or is it a suggestion she be allowed upstairs and into our bedroom at home?

To both, thats a resounding I don't think so. 

So the next stretch of the Stratford on Avon canal we undertook is a good illustration of Phoebe's life. 

Mornings start with that lick to the arm or face and then a run along the towpath with Ros while I prepare both their breakfasts.  When we do locks like the 16 we confronted on leaving Stratford, she's put in her life jacket (no objection just a very resigned even baleful look from her) and spends her time ashore running between the locks to check that we are both ok. As our system demands advance opening of the upcoming lock by the winch handler it does mean she has to cover the same ground a ridiculous number of times just to reassure herself we are all accounted for. 

She remains nervous of the locks thank heavens and won't cross those gates that have the footpath plank attached to them. Rather narrow and requiring a final small leap to shore, they remain a barrier limiting our fears of her tumbling into the swirling waters. Locks are a great place to meet other dogs but many are clearly disturbed by the bounding approach of our day-glow orange glad beast often barking territorially but really only looking for some fun. 

And back to our journey. Worry not, Phoebe features again later....

Fun and games at lock 39 at Bearley where we couldn't open the top lock gates. Ros was on winch duty trying desperately to get the gate beyond 30 degrees of opening so I could maybe nudge it with the boat but it just struck something and wouldn't budge. After 20 minutes of prodding the base of the gate with boat hook and pole we phoned the Trust for assistance. Whilst waiting I continued to scrape and prod and when two well built walkers happened by we asked them for some help in pushing the gate again and lo and behold it opened. Apologetic call to the Trust who after my several calls about the pump out fiasco in Worcester were becoming familiar with the name of Scott.

We overnighted in the beautifully named Wootton Wawen just before the cast iron aqueduct opened in 1813 that crosses the A34. A fine village with its superb parkland, classic duck pond and 17th century timber framed houses, we enjoyed a splendid meal in the Bulls Head pub where there was great excitement when the power went temporarily and we all feared going without our supper.

We passed the Anglo Welsh rental basin where 30 years ago I had been introduced to narrow boating by Ros and her family. That was merely a two week jaunt but all I remember of this and indeed another holiday is the extraordinary sight of the Pontcysyllte aqueduct and my embarrassing fall into the canal captured for posterity on film and oft remembered with great amusement by my late parents in law.

Having been advised to avoid entering Birmingham by the Grand Union Canal by regular travellers we literally met at the lock before we were due to make the commitment, Ros discarded the spreadsheet and made the unprecedented last second decision to remain on the Stratford canal and rejoin the Worcester and Birmingham canal for our assault on the great city. 

Was this equivalent of a handbrake turn for a narrowboater? 

Our revised itinerary meant revisiting the Lapworth locks we had enjoyed doing with Giles and it also meant we could see our old friend Annie, a Birmingham resident, who was able to join us for the day. 

She also witnessed the madness that is sometimes wrought by my wife who had decided in Stratford upon Avon that Phoebe (told you she would feature again) needed her nails clipped. Once decided, it is imperative to my wonderful wife that the act be accomplished asap and so Ros had spent an industrious morning locating a mobile dog groomer who was prepared to travel to a vague location on a stretch of water near Kingswood Junction.  The poor woman struggled to locate us but after a few texts and calls she duly arrived armed with nail clippers and other doggy essentials. 

Linda was her name and what a wonderful character she turned out to be. Full of conversation in her broad Brummie accent, she clearly had a way with dogs calming Phoebe easily while she clipped away, even tastefully grooming the hair around her face so she could see better. With plentiful advice on herbal remedies for a lustrous coat I was embarrassed at the small amount of money she asked for her services. Ros took her number and email keen to revisit on our return for a pedicure of her own....

Annie took us to the beautiful moated NT property at Baddesley Clinton and then after some fun and games on the locks (Annie got a bit confused with the opening and closing of the gates - a classic for those of you who know her of old) we bid her farewell and began a long days trek into Birmingham.