1. We, miraculously, get moving early and though we see a few boats passing homeward before us (which sparks a parody of “Follow the Yellow Brick Road”), the route is a lot quieter than we expected. It makes a last relaxing journey and the mooring – stern-on, in a cramped space – isn’t as bad as either of us feared. We’re glad not to end the holiday on a bad note.
1b. The diesel cost about half as much as I expected. I get a hefty amount of my deposit back – it feels like free money.
2. We laugh at how fast we’re travelling, how much quicker we’re covering ground than we covered water. We return to the fab little post office/coffee shop/convenience store we found on Sunday – it would have taken about four hours in the boat but takes about 20 minutes in the car – and have tea, coffee and freshly baked cakes to ready ourselves for the journey ahead.
2b. We stop for lunch in Sleaford. I greatly enjoy the road where every house as a footbridge across a deep stream to their front doors.
3. My first port of call is the chickens – just in case I miscalculated their food reserves (I didn’t) – but I collect two cats along the way: Kaufman eyes me suspuciously from under the gate, then when he sees it’s me, he comes running & meowing, then Tilda finds me at the coop. Strange is waiting in the house and seems underwhelmed at first – then it seems to dawn on her that we’re back and she sits in the middle of the dining room and meows loudly until she becomes the centre of our attention. She doesn’t leave my side for the rest of the evening.
3b. A week without a lot of stroking, the cats shed their fur like crazy whenever we touch them. By the end of the night, we’re both covered in fluff.
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