Cough cough cough

After a dutiful morning, there was much to catch up with. Letters to send. Money to pay in. All done on the bike - blimey does it not shift when it isn't laden with panniers. I felt like a young 'un. So it was on down to the boat - I'd left some mucky pans and plates so I knew a wash up would be needed. But cripes, when I got over to the boat I realised the shackle attaching the mainsheet to the traveller had come undone. Some kind person must have spotted it and lashed it securely, though I don't know how long it was previously waggling for. After that I spent a bit of time checking everything; so much time that the wind had totally dropped.
But who arrived at the pontoon just then but the son on some carbon fibre road bike. Insurance money for his van well spent then. Ahem. We cycled together off up to the diggers where a goodly crew soon gathered. And the great events of a year ago were discussed.
Home for feet up. Is it just me or is Jools Holland getting even worse? Squeeze! Turgid interviews. Pish bands. Fat bloke in a waistcoat. Tinkling the ivories. Strewth. I'm off to lie down