Water

I'm back on John's narrowboat for the first time since then, visiting for two days. I am apprehensive though I know I have no reason to be.

The two people I know here are the two who are always here. The five I do not know are the teacher on this week-long course, who kindly picked me up in Oxford on her way to Leamington; two students, from France and Hungary; and two other visitors. As ever, we will sleep, cook, eat, learn and get to know each other in a space of 72 feet by 6 feet 10 inches. This can work only if we are considerate, patient, tidy, inquisitive and understanding.

The boat is now fully solar powered and travels slower than when narrowboats were horse-drawn. Without the diesel engine, I can hear the churn of water through the propeller, voices from the far end of the boat, blackbirds, rain beating on the metal roof... When the rain stops, I can smell sweet elderflower across the towpath.

We leave Leamington, head for the Hatton locks, and moor for the night after the first two, by the Cape of Good Hope. The rain stops and some of us go for a late walk along the towpath. It is too dark and there are too many puddles. We turn back and turn in.