I've been gaily writing about going up to the National Waterways Festival . I talk as if I'm one of the family, welcome to tip up at any time, bed always waiting. Actually I'm more like one of those hordes of 'fans without tickets' you get turning up uninvited at football matches.
In football, they are generally urged to stay at home. But boaters are a little more welcoming to each other. So I've just called Pat Barton, the waterspace organiser. Today, a month before the festival, over 430 boats are booked in, she says. They'll probably be moored two or three abreast, and even then I'm looking at a long, long walk to the festival site from any mooring they'll give me. Well, the walk'll do me good.
Folding bike speciaist AS Bikes, who show at many of the major festivals, should do roaring sales at Preston Brook from unprepared fools like me.
Captain's Blog update: Sue has licked her pencil and started calculating. If I'm one of 430 boats, she reckons I'll have to walk two miles to reach the site. That predicates that I'm right on the end, and that boats No. 1 and 2 are right at the start of the festival site.
Perhaps; but what if the festival site is in the middle? Bear in mind that it's close to the junction of the Bridgewater Canal with the Runcorn arm, right by the M56 motorway (see this aerial Multimap map map map) so the official moorings perhaps have three directions to take.
Incidentally, I've had excellent engineering service from the Claymoore Navigation boatyard in 2001 and 2003, and can recommend them. They must be rubbing their hands and salivating at all the extra business the Festival will bring them. For them, it must be a mini-adventure version of London getting the Olympics.
Sue reckons I should go by road or train. What? I've got legs, haven't I? Seems to me that no-one walks any more. No wonder we are all so fat.
