By all accounts, we were definitely lucky to find a space on the popular Hampton Court Palace moorings late afternoon on a sunny Saturday, even if the local trip boats made it seem more like New Orleans. Pretty sure the paddle wheels are not used for propulsion though. If you look carefully (click on the pic) you can see us moored towards the back, right near the shiny golden gates. Shame they’re rather hidden by the grey-painted security railings. You can also see in the distance some of the preparations for next week’s flower show – the entrance (or at least the “wheel-chair collection point”) is down there.

It being late afternoon, hot, mobbed with tourists etc. etc. we opted to make a proper visit later in the year, but did take shufti around the Rose Garden area.

Fran decided once again that what she really really wanted for her birthday was a south-facing brick wall, while one of these pictures couldn’t but remind me of an old Robbie Burns song.

A stroll across the bridge for provisions (a garage selling M&S Cheescake, no less) and a dose of café culture in Molesey’s main street (one of the last outposts of the ruling colonial elite , it would seem from the jolly posh British accents), and back via the palace entrance to check on the Captain…

… who was quite happy sunning himself on the quayside, while all the tourists walking along the path above stopped to tell him how wonderful he was.