0 locks, 5 ½ Miles. Back on the Battlefield Moorings.
As I lay in bed this morning pondering about getting up, listening to the noises going on within the boat this little ditty came to mind.
As the sun rises to warm this fair land
It strikes our steel hull and warms that as well
As the steel expands, our boat creaks and groans
With loud cracks and bangs it goes on for a while
Come the end of the day
More creaks and groan are heard
As our steel home contracts in cool evening air.
On our travels today we passed more boaters out taking advantage of this lovely spring weather which was only to be expected being a Sunday. In one field containing a small pond we spotted two small wading birds feeding in the shallow water around the edge. They were too far away to photograph but we took note of the grey, white and black colouring with orange coloured legs and from our bird book we reached the consensus that they were Ringed Plovers. They were quite timid as they put distance between us and then disappeared in the rough pasture.
As we neared our moorings Dot spotted a boat approaching and said that’s Gosty Hill so we moored up promptly. As it turned out the boat we had moored behind was also awaiting the arrival of the diesel boat so it was very convenient for Iain and Alison. After refuelling we moved about 500 yards further on to the Battlefield moorings.
As I had washed the roof when we stopped for water at Market Bosworth I decided to apply some polish to help protect the paintwork.
1588 locks, 3371 miles, 59 Tunnels, 44 swing bridges and 39 lift bridges since Nov 2006
1 comment:
Good on you Derek, for composing and publishing your poem!! Keep it up.
Regards, Jenny and Robin
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