Bartimaeus

We left Chester to go to the end of the Shropshire Union canal, Ellesmere Port. We had never been there before, though we have been to Chester a few times so this was going to be foreign territory. As we moved past the dry docks and moorings we passed under some pedestrian bridges, one was an elegant white arched bridge with spiral steps. Another was chunkier but had an array of canal life silhouettes on the side. It was only as we passed under that I realised some I had seen were actually on the other side.

There were occasional moored boats along the way, some we had seen before and one with a very unusual name, with little canal connection but one that I had a soft spot for.  A fluffy white sheep and delicate white flowers adorn the sides.

Research of this unusual name revealed that it is the name of a small town, of about 500 people and a school, a pub, not called the white sheepy, but The Black Horse, and a nearby Italian restaurant. Pretty good for a small rural community, I thought.

As we moored up at Ellesmere Port someone approached me to ask if I could tell them the way to the town centre. I didn’t know there was one and had to confess I had only just arrived there for the first time. We went to get our bearings and looked at the Manchester Ship Canal. It was a good deal bigger than the canal we were moored up in, and that was pretty big being a basin where we could actually turn round. The name Ship Canal is a clue. The only things available for scale were some white ducks, and some usual coloured mallards, about the same size, but harder to see, though closer.

There was a large building that said there were plenty old boats around. I at first thought it might mean a place where you could book on a course to do some handicraft or other, basket weaving, crochet perhaps, then I thought it was a place where crafters worked and sold their good and you could see folk working as well as buy the goods, I have seen glass blowing in Murano, Italy and Ewenny pottery in Wales. Then with this being a port it might be boat building or restoration… or all three, there being plenty old boats around and a visitor attraction of the large museum. Inside the shop there were hand crocheted items for sale.

It was warmer than it has been and when we saw there was ice cream for sale in the shop, we were both convinced it was a sunny enough day to have some. I had ginger and honey and Shane had strawberries and clotted cream. We went to sit outside in the bow to eat them. A family were scattering birdfeed (duck food was for sale in the shop) and the little girl was enjoying proffering it by laying seed on the ground but nervous at the flapping of wings, squealing as they approached. Both water and land birds were benefitting. I had noticed white doves nearby as we pulled into the basin. They were now looking for some of the action. A white duck was around, and swans. I hadn’t seen such a variety of different pure white birds together. I was hoping for an egret to fly in.

A man in a nearby house was coming out in the evening to feed the swans large amounts of seed. He had a Zimmer frame so wasn’t venturing far from home and was clearly happy they visited.

Once the sun went down the spot was peaceful and we popped out to admire a pink sky, over what we’re once a hive of activity at the port.