Today brought fresh challenges. After a temporary sigh of relief that we hadn't been murdered in our bed by Stoke druggies. We had tied up in a beautiful but very remote urban landscape. All we had encountered outside our Festival Park mooring were some peace loving ducks and perfectly decent people cycling, jogging and walking their dogs (in truth we expected nothing else). We met Chrissie and Chris outside the Middleport Pottery (Burleigh) after buying some black willow pattern pieces for Lucy Belle. A nice souvenir of our trip. They cruised with us as far as the Harecastle tunnel. Convinced this would be the last time they saw us, they waved bye bye as we disappeared into the 2 mile pitch black tunnel. Jemma crouched inside, similarly sure of our certain deaths.
"You made it?" Chrissie said when I phoned her. She sounded surprised and maybe just a little disappointed.
We are not easily scared or impressed but Brindley was both mad and a genius to concieve of this method of conveyance. We've passed through the Panama Canal and it is equivalent in skill and daring. The one foot lock just outside Congleton seemed tame. Our neighbours from Littonslack were kind enough to bring wine and emergency tea bags. We had a lovely dinner with them in The Rising Sun in Scholars Green. We are promised a modest lie in tomorrow.
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