Barney has a plan (yesterday)*

and a request.
Could I drive with him to the Basingstoke canal, while he drops his pick-up at one end and then drive him to the other end with his bike so he can spend this week's practice run (for the London to Brighton Ride) along the tow-path.
Then I can go away and leave him. Could we do this at 8 oclock so that he can set off on his ride at 9 oclock.
Well yes. That's ok because I can be home, or somewhere interesting by 9.30 or 10 ish and there will still be some morning light to take photos and I'll have time to eat and shower before music group in the afternoon (must remember to collect Dorothea, she of the gentle wittering).

Only when the day arrives, somebody isn't ready to go until 8.45 (he of the many complaints about my time keeping) and then he takes us by what seems to me to be an extraordinarily circuitous route to somewhere near one end of the canal, then by further complicated zig-zags across the countryside to the other end and after at least one complete circle and a wrong turn, finally to the parking place. (This, by the way, is he of the many complaints about my map reading). Then we set off together, back to the other end of the canal and finally, at about 12.00, he cycles off and I am free. For what's left of the day.

My choice is to hurry home, shower, do something vaguely useful and rush off to collect Dorothea or to stop on the way home and take some pictures of the canal (as if I haven't enough canal pictures already) and then skip the shower till later. And the useful stuff of course. (remember what a slovenly, slatternly creature I am).

So I arrive with Dorothea, late, at the music group, having forgotten my music reading glasses and I have to borrow fiddle teacher's reading glasses to see the music (better than nothing but still a rather hit and miss business, hit some notes, miss some key signatures, hit some rests, miss some more notes) and then rush home to make dinner because that other person, the one who complains about my time keeping and my map reading, is tired and hungry and would like to flop in front of the telly now. If I don't mind.

I admit, privately to a twinge of exasperation.

On the other hand, 30 years ago, Barney worked on the restoration of this same canal and while he dug and hauled and chopped and burned, I wandered along the tow-path and made a drawing of a sunken wreck. Thus (if I can scan it in successfully):

And today*, Barney took a photo of the last remnants of the same wreck:

Cool or what! I forgive him his time keeping, his map reading and his sense of direction. And the rest. And after all, it was a 32 mile ride which is quite an exhausting thought.

Well and I did take a picture or two :)

* That's the day before yesterday - it took me a whie to get round to scanning.