Weather...

Ok - it's been a while, but...

First off, the turnout for our second show in Milton Keynes was far better! we had enough people to make it a fantastic evening, and the show went down a storm. Unlike the weather - which was glorious, thankfully. We also discovered a much nicer pub than the ersatz Bridge Inn, or whatever it was called, by Peartree Bridge. It was a bit of a treck, but well worth it, and a fine time was had by all!

We had packed the show into the van, ready for the next days trip to Doxey - the village/part of Stafford (don't suggest THAT in Doxey...) that was the subject of Village Voices, our show of three years ago that dealt with the disappearance of small village communities as they are swallowed up by neighbouring towns and centralised administration. And the journey ended up at the Essexes for lunch. They are good at food in Doxey. The show in the Church hall was another great one - fortunately, as Vashti, our director, and Richard, our writer and assistant-director, were there to make sure we were still heading in roughly the right direction. The highlight, as ever, were the half time cakes. When Doxey isn't producing their easter pantomime (no, really) it bakes. And it is very good at it. So the second half of the show was a bit slower, and slightly rounder than the first. Unfortunately, we couldn't stay for the barbeque after. It was a day off the next day, and people needed to get back to their loved ones. And I needed to get back to Tyseley, who will just have to do in the absence of anyone better...

However, Adrian, who is our only driver, persuaded me to go and visit my brother and his family, as they live on his way, and he wouldn't have to drive all the way back to Milton Keynes. Fortunately - they were amenable to the sudden almost unannounced intrusion. My family are very understanding, but I guess they have had a while to get used to my odd arrivals...

And then back to Milton Keynes for the trip to Tring. I'm sorry to have to say that we got off the mud with no trouble at all. There was more water in the cut when we got back, and we floated off without a hitch, and the help of some local lads who thoroughly enjoyed the chance to mess about with a boat without being shouted at by the owners.

The trip to Marsworth is quite long, so we split it in half, and the first day saw a load of great boating through some great countryside that saw us end up at the Grove Lock Inn, eating our dinner on the bows and watching the sun set, whilst a storm passed us to the north. It is very clean, one of the new breed of canal pubs. There had been talk of us doing a show there. I'm not sure how it would have worked. There were very few boats there. But the staff were very friendly - and even opened their secret stash of whisky for us.

I woke up the next day with a migraine. NO... NOT A HANGOVER! I knew it was a migraine, because I couldn't see a vast chunk. Anyway - it made the start a little bit tricky - because I couldn't see enough to start the engine, let alone steer. So I knocked on Ruth's door and tried to explain, through the slur of pins and needles in my tongue that can't quite be described, what was going on. The engine is tricky to start at the moment - as there is a crack in a vital part that has a name that I can't remember, but needs to be gently coaxed into life with Redex and a syringe. And she started us up and took us up the first hour's worth of cut with no trouble at all. Apart from blowing the exhaust pipe protector a foot into the air. My fault for not mentioning the short pipe needed to be put back on. And, anyway, that's what the chain is for.

After an hour or so, I could see enough to get on with some work, and the rest of the day, although painful, was great fun. The sun was out, and the locks were well spaced, and we wheeled our way up to Startops in very good time, stopping only to empty the dubba - which is what I have just discovered the old boaties called the Elsan. Apparently after double-U C. It kind of reminds me of Dubya Bush. And thus seems to be a fitting description of a box of... well. 'Nuff said!

We set up in Bluebells Tearooms, and then had the dinner that Adrian had cooked for us, and then went back outside to see that the sun had sloped off, and been relieved of his shift by black storm clouds. So out came the Gazeebo. And just as well - as the evening proceeded to become rather damp. The audience mind though, and we all got wet together, and in a spirit similar, I imagine, to that in which the impromptu performances in the tube during the blitz came to pass, we all had a great evening - huddled under umbrellas and tarpaulins, and laughing at the ridiculousness of the evening. I loved it.

We were a little concerned that the pound had emptied whilst we were performing, by about a foot. And we were now at a jaunty angle, and not going anywhere. The pund was to long to just let a lock full through, and there were too many boats to let more through without waking them all up. And none of them were aground. Ahh - the tribulations of an old boat. So I just went to bed, with a makeshift plumbline to make sure we didn't list much more.

And so to today.

The pund had found some more water, and the passing of other boats sucked us nicely off the silt.

A leisurely start, as we only had an hour and a half or so of boating to get us to the next venue, up six locks, which we did in fine time, even without Adrian, who had to go off for an audition. It's great when we work properly as a team, and the locks get done smoothly and efficiently, without the slight panic that accompanies the first few flights that you do together. Everyone starts to know instinctively what the others are about to do.

So now we are tied up outside the Grand Junction Arms, opposite the old workshops, and hoping that the weather holds... Again...