The morning in Rugeley began overcast with heavy showers. There was I, just before nine clearing up after breakfast in the adaptable dinette when I was startled by a tapping on the window and was confronted by the grinning face of my sister in law peering down into the boat. Now I'm all for a bit of enthusiasm (with a wife like mine you certainly acquire that attribute even if its not genetic) but clearly Al had been up at the crack of dawn to make the pilgrimage to Fandango and satisfy her keenness to do all things narrow boaty with her fellow groupie.
A welcome visitor, she arrived with home made cakes (vital for Ros' never-to-be-missed afternoon tea) and wine (essential for my evening sanity) and once the ooohing and aaahing at the excitement to come was over, she happily joined us in a quick shopping expedition to stock up on vital supplies and bonded with Phoebe who she looked after outside the supermarket.
It was a short journey to our first objective and thankfully the weather was clearing and as we moored alongside Shugborough Park we enjoyed glorious sunshine. Shugborough Hall was the ancestral home of the Earl of Lichfield, a nephew of Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother and best known for his photography including the official wedding photographs of Charles and Diana. Handed over to the National Trust in the 1960's in lieu of death duties but leased to Staffordshire County Council, our memberships allowed entry to the house but not to the museum and some other attractions. But with a timetable to follow that was plenty for us narrowboaters.
A little aside. We are proud members of the Scottish National Trust but have found it rather amusing how our membership cards are viewed rather sniffily or even suspiciously by the, I am quite sure, hard working staff at English properties. In many cases we have to be separately "scanned in" feeling a little like second class citizens or maybe economy class passengers made to step aside for those lucky business class passengers with priority boarding.
The house was fascinating not least because following the death of Patrick Lichfield in 2005, his private apartments were opened to the public in 2011 and complement the grand state rooms that had been accessible since the 1960's. Now I call a suite of 38 rooms one hell of an "apartment" but that's what he had skilfully negotiated with the Trust and it was intriguing to see how a country aristocrat lived. Loved the extensive drinks cabinet under the stairs! There was a wonderful exhibition of some of his photographs chronicling his time snapping society lovelies and the hippest beautiful people of the 70's, 80's and 90's. Oh, and they did great coffee too and homemade soup too.
A little later than planned we set off again with the spreadsheet-determined destination of Stone in our sights. Good job we had three helms available as it was fair trek and we didn't moor until just before the unprecedentedly late hour of eight at the bottom of the Stone Flight of locks. We took Al for dinner at the Star Inn pub on the towpath beside the bottom lock. Dating from the 14th century it is reputedly one of the oldest pubs on the waterways and inside is a maze of rooms none of which are on the same level.
Having brought the dog with us we were asked to eat in the public bar, an experience that seemed to cause some alarm to sister in law (more a cocktail lounge sort of gal I fear) but it turned out to be very entertaining as we shared the room with a boisterous family group celebrating one of the daughters' nineteenth birthday. This fact prompted our addled memories and we remembered it was also Phoebe's second birthday. Well, what excitement that caused for Naomi (for it was she who was the birthday girl) who turned out to be a real dog person and worked in a grooming parlour. Eyeing Phoebe she informed us a wash and groom would cost £35 in her salon - in her dreams I thought.
Next morning we looked around Stone, a very attractive town and home to the Joules brewery. Onward then through the Stone locks (where I discovered Al was not so keen to steer the boat but far keener to operate the lock gates) to bridge 104 and more educational delights. This time the Wedgwood museum. A prize winner for the quality of its exhibits and story telling we dived into the fascinating story of Josiah and his innovations in transforming British taste in china ware. Al and I loved it but poor dyslexic Ros found it all "too much reading" so consoled herself in the factory shop where she acquired a set of rather beautiful cut glass champagne glasses - perfect for narrow boat living Scott-style!
I got into a conversation with who I assumed to be a curator but turned out to be the director of the museum (I discovered this when describing the woman to Al who knew her from her archivist world) who was lamenting the American venture capitalist buy out of the whole group of companies that had saddled the museum with the company's historic pension fund debt putting a question mark over its future. Indeed the whole future of this group of iconic brands was in doubt - how sad that so much creativity and history is threatened.
We had met some experienced boaters who had recommended a detour from our planned route onto the Caldon Canal. After some huffing and puffing over Nick's canal planner thanks to a very poor and slow internet connection (oh the trials of technology for the traveller!) magically the spreadsheet was revised and the detour was approved.
So our final day with Al saw us enter Stoke-on-Trent and turn sharp right up what we hoped would be a beautiful return trip through what we had been told was some of the most attractive countryside on the system. Al reluctantly left us here happy and sated having gated us through one of the keenies highlights and badges of honour - a staircase lock, the only one in Staffordshire and a process requiring careful thought or you get the water in the wrong place and flood or beach the boat!
Now that would be an experience.....
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