It rained today. I got wet. It was raining at Galgate, where I was berthed. Well, when I say Galgate, it was closer to the Glasson Branch by the time I’d found somewhere to moor up last week. There are signs informing boaters about restricted mooring times hidden in the hedgerows all along that particular stretch of th’ Owd Lanky.
It continued to rain all the way through Ellel Grange, which brought out the golds and the oranges of autumn. As resplendent as nature looked in its colourful garb, even the ducks were miserable. I saw a gannet, or something…not the sort of fowl you’d expect to see on the canal anyhow. But I didn’t have my camera available, so I couldn’t photograph it.
It rained through Potter’s Brook, where I was greeted by a cheery ‘Hello’ from Alexandra on the Moonwitch, then panicked because I thought the diesel tank was leaking, although it was probably just a patch of stray fuel that I’d actually driven through.
It even rained on my butties and in my brew, which I’d carefully placed within reach on the cabin roof for sustenance whilst driving.
It was still raining when I eventually moored up at Forton, where, despite the instructions on the tin, I had a go at painting some of the summer’s rust from the side of the Mouse Boat and, in the process, got very wet.