Turning north

Hello folk, I’m still here, hope you are still out there. Writing these blogs is a bit like stepping out on a stage with the spot lights in your face, the house lights out and the audience silent. Although the actor may appear to be looking at the audience to be honest they can not see a thing. Unless they raise a laugh, hear a cough or worse hear that dreaded mobile phone ring they do not know for sure if there is anybody out there at all.

Well not to worry, the muse has again fallen on me and Gentle Breeze has been up north so it is time I sent a few posts out, whether or not you are there. Forgive me while I pause and consider the literal interpretation of a Greek muse falling upon me.

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OK, now back to the real world.

Gentle Breeze has been on quite a journey of which I will fill you in but first to say that although not an ideal solution to CO2 emission I have at least offset the boat’s usage by contribution to reforestation through Climatecare. That is the serious bit over and all that I am going to say about it here.


On a less serious note I took the boat to both the Little Venice, Paddington and Rickmansworth festivals this year. There was lots of boat dressing up and Gentle Breeze (GB) wanted to join in but did look like she was pouting when adorned with eyelashes and lipstick.


After the festivals I began to cruise northwards, although cruising for me always ends up as a slow motion dash due to some deadline or other. Watford residents may well be familiar with the grounds of the Grove hotel which was once the residence of the Earl of Clarendon. Fewer are familiar with the cream teas that they apparently serve, I am told they are pricey but very nice. The Grand Union canal wends its way through the grounds, with the river flowing in and out of it. E are told that when the canal was built in the late 1700’s the Earl insisted it meandered and that the new bridges were decorative. Hence we see here one of the most ornate bridges over the canal in the vicinity.


I often wonder how many notice the juxtaposition of some poverty stricken boaters moored no more than 40 feet from the golfers in the grounds, with their buggies, fancy clothes and helicopters by which quite a few of them arrive.

Now having adorned my boat with eye lashes I can not pass too much comment on this one. I normally spot it in London, but it seems to have made a visit into rural Watford. It leaves me speechless. More of the journey to the Midlands in the next posting.


1 thought on “Turning north

  1. Dear Steve,

    I am still here! Glad to see you are still there! Thanks for the blog posts which I always enjoy, even though most often I don’t say so.

    Under the Mercy,

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