The Admiral Nelson is a canal side pub towards the bottom of the Braunston flight, and we’d have stopped for a “just past the yard arm” Guinness had we not been working the flight with another boat.

Happily tied up at the bottom, we went for a late afternoon wander before putting the dinner on: the lady in the local chandlery suggested that The Admiral Nelson was not only the nearest pub but the best in Braunston and renowned for it’s food, so we continued our wander back uphill, eschewing ice creams at the well known Canal Shop just above the bottom lock.

The Grand Union may be a wide beam canal, but the house on the lock here is decidedly narrow…

…and we found yet another p**s-take of the Rosie and Jim rag doll children’s TV programme, rather in need of a new paint job.

The Admiral Nelson was indeed a delightful pub, with plenty of room in the sunshine for that delayed Guinness, comfy sofas, a posh restaurant and friendly staff. A quick glance at the menu, and all thoughts of cooking back on the boat went by the board. If we weren’t too disreputable, scruffy and boating stained we were going to eat in their restaurant, despite filling the boat with half of Tesco and Waitrose. We passed the sartorial inspection.

And while waiting for what proved to be absolutely superb sirloin steak and to-die-for cod and chips, two immaculate Stanley Steam Cars turned up to decorate the car park. A better day!

The Quartermaster was severely disappointed at Tuesday evening’s shopping expedition, and Daventry had (speak it quietly) a branch of her favourite grocery emporium.  The local bus timetables are incomprehensible to visitors who don’t actually know the housing estate and street names, and they all seemed to wander lengthily around said places before ending up in Northampton. The locals we asked were equally clueless or reckoned it was almost certainly quicker just to walk into the town centre, so off we set on Wednesday morning for some retail therapy plus a free coffee and newspaper. Heavily laden with wine, a taxi back to the boat was the only option.

After lunch, the hatches were once again battened down for the transit through Braunston tunnel, then out into the sunshine where – teaming up with another boat – we made short work of the six wide locks down into Braunston – a major place in the history of the English canal system. We luckily found a suitable mooring right in the middle of the waterfront, outside the marina. There’s plenty to see, with boatyards, pumping stations and so on.

Despite her best efforts, the chief otter spotter was unable to locate any peregrine falcons on the church spire just visible in one of the pictures, unlike our visit last July.