This is Marmont Priory lock. We moored up OK – twice now – and Max and Rae also succeeded in doing a proper one point turn to get into the channel past Friday Bridge (which is a place, not a bridge) that got us here.
The place is littered with kingfishers, which for me is alone worth the trip. Rae describes them as a combination of butterfly and bird, and she’s not far off.
Being the Fens, there are occasional rumbles of big jets on manoeuvres (twice spelled without looking up). But otherwise it’s the faithful clanking of the old diesel and the drifting reeds.
So we’re about to do the lock, which no doubt will test the integrity of the family unit to its very core.
To paraphrase Michael Green, we have to make Cambridge by Friday…