Bartimaeus

On Tuesday we left Hinckley and travelled in the morning past tall rushes and purple rosebay willowherb. It wasn't sunny but it was a pretty pastoral scene. A greenfinch was calling shrilly from the top of a tree and I  could see it plainly but it was too far away for a decent picture. We could hear it for a long time after it had receded into the distance.

After mooring for lunch, we set off for a walk into Stoke Golding, taking a rural approach past some tups and then continuing over a stile and across a field opposite. Some of the tups seemed to be neither black nor white, but gradually fading between the two. 

The sun came out and I got a good variety of butterflies. I took photos to help me identify them later, or just to help me remember them. 

Some on the buddleia bush were too high to photograph. By then I had reached the end of the 15 minute count but I had the most variety I had seen in a while and multiples of some varieties.

I had forgotten that I had been to Stoke Golding before, last time we were up the Ashby. I had approached from a different angle and not explored the town much, just gone out to a shop and back the way I had come, avoiding cows in a field.

I had seen this sign and photographed it, but without the flag. It looks like it might be a new flagpole and flag, or at least the pole has had a clean.

The union flag was not dating back to the same time period. The village is a small place to host such a momentous occasion, but he became king when Richard III was killed at the Battle of Bosworth, which took place nearby. The village had a fair bit of royal history scattered around.

Shane led me to an impressive church for such a small place, St Margaret's of Antioch. The name reminded us of Monty Python, always irreverent and rather too much for some.  The church was too long to fit in to the picture with the spire.

Recently we had tried to visit churches that were shut, but this one was open and somebody is very keen to have visitors. We were left in no doubt it was open.

Inside was well labelled with information about the history of the church and St Margaret, patron Saint of Pregnancy and Childbirth. St Margaret got a rough deal, child birth seemed easy compared to what she was reputed to have endured. It is claimed that Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, but some men don't cope well with rejection.

I haven't seen a church with an unstaffed credit card donation system before, especially in such a small place. This did have plenty to look at with art. The interior was bright with white walls and clear windows, only one having any stained glass and it was between two interior spaces with another window behind it. Again it depicted Saint Margaret and the dragon.

Another woman got a a lot of attention, Queen Philippa. I hadn't heard of her. Perhaps Scottish historians felt too much shame to recount this defeat, or they just didn't mention Philippa in the account. 

As well as several interesting displays, the church had a notice up indicating toilet and baby change facilities situated behind a velvet curtain. It was just what I needed. Shane was waiting outside but I told him when I got out and he immediately re entered to avail himself of the unexpected facility (T M I perhaps).

While outside he had found out that during the war (there were a few bits of info about the war) the steeple has been demolished to avoid being crashed into by planes. It was rebuilt afterwards. This seemed to be going above and beyond but it wasn't to save the spire, but to save the pilots as there was an airfield nearby.

In the morning, we saw the picnic area opposite had been invaded by ducks. Perhaps they are used to getting titbits there, but there was none to be had then, except someone had left their sandwich wrapper on the table, which annoyed me. There was a bin available.

We set off, past the Ashby Boat Company, where we had once hired a boat. Shane was surprised so many were still at the wharf, it being school holidays. You would think it would be peak hiring season. This was always the time we used to hire, with Heather's  family, when the Scottish and English school holidays overlapped.

As we went along we found someone had gone to unusual lengths to have a private mooring, digging a trench sideways off the canal.

Most private moorings run alongside the canal. It is normal to have signs saying 'Slow, Moored Boats" or "SLOW DOWN" or "Tick Over please" or "2mph" They get fed up of people going past too fast. It is easy for hire boats to forget to slow down past moored boats. Here we saw a sign that was even slower and rather two specific, given that we don't actually have speedometers on a narrow boat, it was a bit too much to expect anyone to follow this sign exactly, though it was a warning sign rather than an obligatory speed limit.

I wonder if this boat ever breaks the speed limit, she doesn't seem like one to stick to the rules - not that a light boat like this would be too much bother if she went too fast. She was well defended.

It looks like she needed to protect herself from the fearsome Black Pearl moored behind (unless the Nauti Girl gets on with them very well indeed). They had gone to town on the themed decor. They are probably a friendly crew with a sense of humour, but who can tell? Someone has gone overboard on this one, you might have to walk the plank if you disagreed with them. 

Is the addition of a coffin a bit too much? We were amused anyway. The anchor looked scary, though it might keep other boats away better than a fender.