What we did on our holidays

Day 2 began unnaturally early. Well most of us thought it shouldn't have begun quite so early. John woke at 05.00. Am. And by 5.45 he could contain himself no longer and bounded around, generally waking people up and taking the puzzled but acquiescent dog out and bringing him back and went to the shop and, well, caused most of us to stop sleeping. There were cries of protest but we did all seem to be up by about 8. We punished John for the rest of the day by making jokes about his lack of sensible timing and everything that went slightly wrong was blamed on him, to general hilarity and hysteria. He took it very well. I think it was day 2 that ended in Manchester with a cheerful Italian dinner and quite a lot of wine. It transpired that Wendy had planned to have a healthy and excerciseful week. She decide to start the healthy part the next day.
I have to say that the journey into Manchester didn't inspire me a lot. (And the morning's photos were the ones the computer ate, so even if any of them were inspired, they're gone :(

Day 3 promised to be much more interesting.
We'd been told by the Waterboard that we would have a day's delay before the next planned bit of journey so we detoured down the part of the Rochdale canal which includes the bit that goes under (not Picadilly Station) the office block which is supported on pillars and really does seem a bit like plunging into some netherworld. There was lots of industrial and heavily urban stuff which, as always on the canals, acquires a kind of storytale glamour as you glide through its reflections and under its bridges and past its walls. Office block canyons between traffic jam clad bridges. Windows, walls, railings and bars between wire and rust and concrete. A landscape of alternate decay and contemporary glass mountains and concrete towers. Interlaced with Victorian magnificence. Ultra smart office workers thread their way on bikes and on foot between other kinds of workers and still less happy people on foot and on buses. Down-and-outs, stagger here and there clutching their bottles and secretaries in suits and girls on their night out journeys stilt walk past on their high heels in scanty clothing. All life. And then some. It's a vibrant city all right but some of the vibrations are more in tune with the rust, darkness and decay than others. While the canal glides past and reflects it all, without judgement.

In the evening, some of us went in search of a curry and found one, after a long and exhausting trek past famous Victorian buildings improbably sited amidst a mini city of glass skyscrapers and bars. (regrettably, the trek was too exhausting to allow time or energy for taking photos) Wonderfully trendy and smart with absolutely delicious food. I thoroughly recommend Shimla Pink, should you want a very good Indian meal. (we were slightly bedraggled and exhausted but weren't given the slightest hint that we didn't quite fit among the trendy, smart clientele - very good place indeed).

We moored at Dale Street car park. Very convenient if you happened to have a car parked there but we didn't. A long long time ago, when I was at school in Manchester I came here to do a painting of the (then derelict) lock gates. It's unrecognisable now.
On the way into Manchester there was this very very tall glass building. I thought it looked good balanced on a lock beam.
That's the inside of our boat. From this very er, room? cabin? John launched his attacks on our slumber :)
water pouring over the lock gates early in the morning (thank you John :)
Caught by puffs of wind and shattered into a million droplets.
Descent of boaters Into the oily depths under the city (If you look at this one large, you can see Steve poised to wind paddles and heave on gates - not in that order)More bridges, rows of themCanyons