Doubling back.

We are off again and it feels good. Mind you we didn't rush into it as, after all, it is Sunday. I went and got the paper and we listened to the Archers before setting off. It had been very busy earlier so wondered what the day would bring, but actually setting off later seems to have worked in our favour as we had a very easy time of it.

 I was attracted to the avenue of trees across the Shobnall Fields park.

Dallow Lane Locks was very soon upon us and we were soon on our way down. Both sides of the bridge that are almost over the lock have murals painted. It is another project that has been instigated by Shobnall Parish Council (among others) that were also involved with the Kingfisher Trail. The murals are covered with perspex and so far seem to have survived interference.

 Only a little further is Horninglow Basin where there are more murals painted. The wall with the art work has the A38 dual carriageway above it. It wouldn't be my ideal mooring I don't think.

Just as we got to the next lock at Stenson the heavens opened some what and we got a bit of a soaking. C&RT had just left after reports of something or other but had just left after finding nothing. I expect that it was because it fills so slowly. A lot to do with the big leak in the bottom gates. On the way up we met somebody that Helen had worked with in the past. On the way down we met somebody who had just from our home town. A very small world round here.

The rain lessened but we carried on as we wanted to stop above Swarkeston. By the time we had got sorted the rain had stopped and we decided to go for a short walk. We had seen the Summer house that is all that is left from Swarkestone Manor. I wrote before but it is thought to be a pavilion for viewing either bull/baiting or more likely bowls. It is Jacobean in origin and the square area enclosed by a low wall is called the Cuttle.

The Summer House is now owned by the Landmark Trust and looks like a lovely place for two for a smoochy week away together.

Our walk took us through the quiet village of Swarkestone with some lovely old houses and a view of the bridge across the Trent. Apparently Swarkestone was the furthest south that Bonnie Price Charlie got in 1745. It seems he decided that the hordes of Englishmen he thought would swarm to his banner to support his claim to the throne did not materialise. He turned north and to eventual defeat at Culloden. Everywhere seems to have some history to it, doesn't it.

The 18th centuary five arched bridge over the Trent at Swarkestone. The first Himalayan Balsam I have seen this year.

We stopped for a pint at the Crew and Harpur. I had a pint of Fever Pitch IPA from Marston's but it was very so so. Back to the boat and a lovely tea rounded of with a rhubarb crumble using the rhubarb I brought from home.