Morris-less Oxford Musings

After the previous night’s tribulations, we decided that (a) we needed to decide where we were going next, and (b) when. The boaters waiting for the Thames to become navigable were grumbling as most of the river went down to yellow boards, while the short initial stretch through Osney Bridge where the Oxford Canal joined the Thames remained resolutely red, and the lockkeepers noticeably absent. (We subsequently discovered that this stretch is always the first to go onto red boards, and the last to come off). One or two boats came up off the river having braved things up from Reading, including a hire boat! Ah well.

Anyway, after a gentle lunchtime stroll round a pleasantly Morris free city, and stocking up the larder, we seemed to have decided to abandon Plan B (going down the Thames) and head back up the Oxford Canal. We’d call in at Cropredy and repatriate the car back home, and then aim for Liverpool. Or Leeds. Or Lancaster. Or maybe Llangollen. Probably via Leamington. That’s what we like… a firm plan.

Monday afternoon, and the rumours were increasingly strong that the Thames would be OK on Tuesday, so it seemed a good plan for us to move as well, before the parking wardens noticed how long we’d actually been in Jericho (there’s a 48 hour limit). The Captain agreed, but undeterred by Sunday night’s shenanigans, still seemed to spend a great deal of time out partying somewhere on Monday night, although he did come home unaided before breakfast…

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