Yearly Archives: 2016

Marple, Marple

Doesn’t have quite the same ring as New York, New York but never mind. We eventually set off from Bollington on Sunday morning, aiming for Higher Poynton – not all that far away – for two reasons. Firstly there was a water tap and we were running short. Secondly we’d arranged to meet some old friends there with a view to catching up/going boating or whatever.

The water tap is right between two bridges with little room for manoeuvre, especially if there’s someone already there. There was. We tied up loosely to the bridge across Lord Vernon’s Wharf to wait, hoping no one wanted to leave the arm from the boat yard. Just then, the fuel boat Alton arrived: we’d been chatting to the owners the night before, and said to stop if they passed us, as we needed some diesel. They picked their moment. Tying loosely up to us, nobody was going up or down the Macclesfield Canal for a bit as the three of us sprawled across two bridge holes!

It was getting a just a bit chaotic, when our friends arrived hot foot from Bramhall. It was over 15 years since we’d last met up (nearer 30 for the chef), so there was plenty to catch up on. Being a lovely sunny day, and not wishing to get embroiled in the local pub’s Sunday lunch trade, we decided to cruise up to Marple and back, and then look for some sustenance later. With so much to talk about, few photos were taken. It was a delightful cruise: the Bosley locks had climbed us up to 512 feet above sea level, with views over the Peak District on one side, and the Cheshire Plain on the other.

We turned the boat around in the junction where the Macclesfield Canal reaches the Peak Forest Canal: there’s one of those nice “snake bridges” where the horse can change sides without unhitching. They’re a feature of the Macclesfield Canal. The return to Higher Poynton passed just as quickly, and a late lunch/early dinner rounded the day off nicely. We’d had such a nice time, we made a loose plan to meet up later in the week and go to Lyme Park, a big National Trust place nearby.

Monday morning we were late starting (surely not!). A phone call to some Marple dwelling friends from the Sidmouth Ceilidh in the Ford Regulars (we stayed in the same B&B for many years), and they downed tools after lunch and started walking down the towpath to meet us. They’re keen walkers and we weren’t hurrying, so they’d come quite a way before our paths crossed. Another pleasant afternoon’s cruise catching up ensued. It’s a hard life.

We managed to moor up in the middle of Marple near the junction, in time to make it to the shops, and decided to stay the night.

At the junction itself, you can turn Left, and immediately dive down the 16 Marple Locks, another of these long flights of deep chambers. This is the Peak Forest Canal, and at the bottom it crosses Marple Aqueduct before heading off round Ashton and through Manchester – it’s a busy route as the passage through Rochdale is now rather more civilised than of old, and it’s part of the Cheshire Ring, a popular hire-boat circuit. Alternatively you can turn Right at the junction onto the Upper Peak Forest Canal, which winds high along the side of the Goyt Valley before ending up at Bugsworth, under the watchful gaze of Kinder Scout.

Marple Aqueduct was rumoured to be interesting, but rather than taking Song & Dance down all those 16 locks, only to turn round and come back up, we decided to walk down. The first thing we saw was Hazel and her tug preparing to head down the flight. Although they were seemingly heavy crewed, bow-hauling an unpowered butty is never going to be fast, and we were quite glad we weren’t following them down. And as for Hazel, we’re still not entirely convinced of the authenticity of a wooden boat with wall-to-wall solar panels on the roof…

The flight is quite impressive in a lovely setting, and with some odd quirks, including – on one of the chambers – a strange little tunnel under the lock for the boatman to regain the boat by the bottom gates. The fine old mill has been converted into offices.

Marple Aqueduct may be the highest in England (and second in the UK only to the Great Unpronounceable), and very grand from “ground level”, but it isn’t overly impressive from canal level; getting down to the level of the Goyt river looked a challenge too far, given that we were going to have to retrace our steps back up 16 locks.

The adjacent railway viaduct is equally impressive, and somewhat higher. Shades of Chirk Aqueduct and Viaduct with fine views up the valley.

Retracing our steps, the head gardener was rather taken by a lock-side cottage halfway up. The adjacent lock leaked from all sorts of places it shouldn’t: wonder how long before it fails completely. And further up, Hazel was making seriously slow progress – the band of helpers seemed to have vaporised into thin air, leaving just the captain bow-hauling and the steerer wielding the barge pole. Really, really glad we’re not following them down…

About three locks from the top we diverted into Marple town centre shops for lunch, and found a splendid cafe/delicatessen/baker that really hit the spot from several sides at once. Think we’ll be coming back here! Wonder what the afternoon will bring!

A Musical Interlude in Happy Valley–Part 2

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Seems that as well as the boat gathering, the local folk club had organised a session on Saturday afternoon outside the community cafe at the mill, and a boating songs/shanty session inside on Saturday evening, at which another well known folky and boater Tom Lewis would be singing and the ex canal laureate Jo Bell would be reading her poems. We’d seen Tom recently, and he was excellent, and we’d also spotted his boat moored up, so that wasn’t a surprise. Hence the plan was to try and stay another night locally, presupposing we could get moored somewhere reasonably close. We’d kindly been offered a spot breasted up against another boat, but that one really wouldn’t have been suitable for the Captain to go out in the dark.

Well, we were up at OMG o’clock, showered, breakfasted and ready to roll at 08:00 – no mean feat after a late night – but there was no sign of any CaRT people coming to move their work boat. We eventually decided to move anyway at about 09:15, and as we were casting off saw a posse of CaRT volunteers crossing the bridge. If we’d known, we could have had another hour or more in bed. Mutter, mutter.

Anyway, we found some very nice moorings about half a mile down the cut, in nice countryside, so all was well.

We dropped in on the afternoon session – that’s Charlotte chatting to the head cook rather than playing her fiddle, and Jason on her left.

Bollington is an interesting hill town, with a real community spirit, and seems to be known locally as Happy Valley. The aqueduct looks much more impressive from below than it does above, the church has a fine example of one of those octagonal spires that seem to crop up around hereabouts, there’s a decent large Co-Op, a super delicatessen, a frequent bus service to Macclesfield, and plenty of yummy mummies and daddies wheeling their progeny around. Surrounded by lovely views of the peak district, we could see why it was popular.

We were a bit puzzled by the house name and wondered what someone had done to deserve that (click on the picture if you can’t read it). And climbing back up to the canal, we took our eyes off the view just long enough to decide that the music score on Punchinello was either by a signwriter who’d just sprayed random musical typography across the stave, or it was a ditty knocked up by Karlheinz Stockhausen on an off day. (Our standards here are high: very early on in Song & Dance’s travels we passed a boat Baker Street, where the side of the boat was correctly decorated with the music for that saxophone break’. We were impressed).

We wandered back for the evening do; the place was mobbed, and the event would have been excellent apart from the fact that the air-conditioning was going full blast – like a Lightning with it’s after burners lit, making it difficult to hear well. Tom Lewis was expectedly good, and – not being poetry fans – Jo Bell was unexpectedly superb. Another late night. And back home quite a long way down a dark towpath: haven’t done much of that for a while. Winter drawers on: must remember a torch next time!

A Musical Interlude in Happy Valley–Part 1

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After our gentle amusement at sheep snoring, and the blowout meal, we weren’t terribly early in getting going on Friday morning; we’d decided to take a look at the proceedings at Bollington – not very far away – and maybe stay there overnight. As we approached the town, the first thing we saw was a notice pinned to the fence with a face on it. Half expecting it to be wanted man notice, we nearly ignored it, but on closer examination while passing it said “Bollington Folk Club, Friday 16th September, special guest Pete Coe”. Pete has been a dear friend for rather more years than either of us would care to remember, so the decision to stop the night was a given, really. Particularly when we found out the relevant pub was only five minutes walk from the canal. Such is the serendipitous nature of the waterways. Mind you, ever since Pete and his wife Sue were awarded EFDSS Gold Badges, we are really not worthy to be in his company any more…

Turned out that the Bollington boat meeting was organised by the local towpath society, who’d invited several historic boats, including Betelgeuse and the wooden boat Hazel (seen below).

Betelgeuse had obviously leapfrogged us on Thursday evening, as she was already there. And Dr. Google suggests she is a historic boat too, but not wooden. We think Charlotte & Jason’s tug may be wooden but didn’t get a close look as it was moored outside Betelgeuse.

As more or less expected – all the moorings on the Aqueduct and by the old mill were taken or reserved for boats attending Saturday’s fun. The Harbour Master said we were welcome to breast up with a work boat that CaRT had carelessly left behind in the middle of the mooring area (left hands and right hands??), but we’d have to move early on Saturday as they were coming to move it at 08:00. Gulp.

Sir was intrigued by breasting up and having to climb over another boat to get ashore, but took it in his stride. There was lots of boats around and “hail fellow, well met” stuff going on, and the towpath was quite busy, so when a large untethered dog came bounding up to investigate, we were surprised that Biggles just stood his ground and bristled a bit, while continuing to keep his head down munching the grass, as cats do. Normally he would just beat a quiet retreat to the safety of Song & Dance – his own territory – and we suspected the work boat was fazing him.

Not a bit of it! On closer examination after canine removal, he appeared to be tucking into a bowl of tinned salmon – clearly much tastier than his usual carefully balanced prescription diet for duff kidneys – and he had absolutely no intention of letting any miserable dog have any. Turned out the occupants of Hazel thought Sir was a skinny, underfed stray (the shame of it) and put down some food for him while we weren’t looking.

Anyway, dinner in The Vale Inn (run by the brewery across the road) was excellent. Pete Coe was on splendid form (we are not worthy…), and the Captain enjoyed the novelty of two boats to wander around at night – one full of puddling clay. So if the Macclesfield Canal develops another leak due to clay contamination, we’ll know who to blame…

Sheep May Safely Snore

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As we set off from Bosley to Bollington (that phrase has a From Galway to Gracelands ring about it, doesn’t it?), as already mentioned the first obstacle is the Bosley flight of locks. One odd thing is that – unlike most other locks – the top ends have two mitred gates like those commonly found at the the bottom, rather than the more usual single gate. And there’s no walkway on the top gates, so if you’re light crewed like Song & Dance there’s a lot more walking around the lock chamber to work the boat through. They’re also deep, so the paddles are often stiff, and the gates leak like a sieve, so even if someone had just come down leaving a lock in your favour it didn’t stay that way for long.

So – remembering to hate people who start sentences with “so” – with uninspiring weather and no time for much else, we headed off without camera in hand, and made it to the top by lunchtime rather out of breath. There’s a bit of a gap between the penultimate and ultimate lock, and we saw our friend Betelgeuse and tug stuffed in the reeds and undergrowth. Guess that’s as far as they got before running out of daylight or post work enthusiasm or lockwheeling helpers.

The top lock is something of a CaRT visitor/showcase spot. The gates are all freshly painted, and properly balanced to move easily, the paddles are all greased and easy to operate, and the gates didn’t leak. I guess most visitors don’t walk down to see how decrepit the others locks are. Cynical? Moi?

After lunch, we didn’t go a great deal further, and stopped at the visitor moorings at Gurnett Aqueduct. These look nice and suitable, but the rings are set far too far apart, and the cut there being a concrete trough, banging mooring pins in without running ropes crossing the towpath can be entertaining. Not.

A fellow boater had suggested that Sutton Hall was a good place to eat, and so it proved. An old manor house, convent and one time home of Lord Lucan, it’s now a large pub/restaurant with loads of different rooms, nooks and crannies, and excellent food. The entrance is just off the canal, and approached by quite a long winding drive between two large fields full of sheep.

After a splendid meal, we were walking back down the drive in the dark, wondering what the strange subterranean rumbling sounds that we could hear were coming from. Shining a torch into the field showed several sheep close by the fence, lying on their sides, fast asleep, and to a ewe, snoring gently. Never knew sheep snored: reckon there’s an idea for a Bach Cantata there…

Beatle Juice Leapfrog and Bosley Bottom Lock

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We knew Charlotte, a morris dancer friend of the head gardener, had come oop North to do a boat signwriting course. She liked it so much she stayed, and was apparently living with her partner Jason on a boat on the Caldon Canal. Not far as the crow flies from the Macclesfield Canal, messages about Biggles’ progress had been despatched.

A couple of times over the last few days we’d seen passed the butty Betelgeuse and her tug (who shall apparently remain nameless until a repaint) moored breasted up, and then passing us late in the day. Setting off late on Wednesday morning after the fog lifted from our mooring at Ramsdell, we passed them once again, heading for Congleton.

The canal here consists of long straight sections (no pansy contouring here) and the frequent bridges have an odd elliptical shape, rather than finishing vertically at ground level, like almost everywhere else. They have a narrow channel, and most have a significant ledge on the non-towpath side just at water level, almost invariably hidden by the undergrowth. This makes them an interesting challenge to pass without hitting anything too hard.

The canal takes a dog-leg route of several long straight sections around Congleton, bypassing the town centre by more than a mile. But it goes right by the station (actually, pretty much under the station), where there is a decent pub for a lunchtime Guinness, and a convenience store for milk. So by the time we reached the much regarded moorings just below Bosley bottom lock, it was late afternoon. And warm and sunny. With a nice view. So all things considered, we decided to leave tackling the Bosley Lock flight – 12 deep locks in just over a mile, with no possibility of mooring until the top – for another day, and get the deck chairs out. It really is a nice spot, with great views over the River Dane valley, and a local hill known as The Cloud for some reason.

We’d just settled down to dinner when we saw Betelgeuse and tug passing us again, and thought “Gosh – are they really going up the Bosley Locks at this time of day with an unpowered butty? They won’t get finished before dark…”, and a minute later Charlotte stuck her head through our side hatch and said “Ah, it is you!”. Seems Betelgeuse is her and Jason’s boat/home, and they were heading for some kind of boaters meet at Bollington at the weekend. But as they were both working during the day they could only move the two boats in the evening. Turned out she actually worked at Swanley Bridge Marina, where we’d left Song & Dance to go to Sidmouth. Small world.

And with a “Can’t stop! We’ve organised a gang of lockwheelers to help, and left cars at the top of the flight… hope we’ll see you in Bollington over the weekend… there’s music and stuff…”, she was off.

Well that explains why we keep playing Betelgeuse Leapfrog, anyway!

Indian Country Chill Out

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The FO learnt to fly on Piper aircraft: a Piper Cherokee Warrior to be precise. Back then they named all their aircraft after Red Indians, and the FO has flown (amongst others) a Twin Comanche, a Seneca, and an Aztec. So when he hears the name Piper, Red Indians spring to mind. Having ] moved on to a Piper boat (a very different company), the name still vaguely conjures up Indian connotations. And as Piper Boat’s factory is only a few miles from where we are: just the other side of Mow Cop, it seems reasonable to consider this as Indian Country. And unsurprisingly, being close to the factory, we see quite a few Piper Boats floating around.

Here’s a couple of piccies taken back at the very beginning, when Song & Dance was but a glint her mother’s eye and we were visiting the factory. Piper Boats is one of the white buildings in the middle distance.

A few days ago, in the Aqueduct Marina, we saw Om Shanti – made in 2011 it had just been sold to a new owner, who proudly showed us round. It was quite strange: the outer shell was very like Sir’s boat, apart from a cruiser stern, but inside the layout was different. The actual furnishings were very similar in design and construction, and to quote The Hitchhiker’s Guide it was almost, but not entirely unlike Song & Dance. The proud new owner declined our offer to show her round Biggles’ boat, in case she preferred it!

We’ve also seen Naiad in Nantwich, and immediately opposite our moorings was another Piper boat, without an obvious name. No doubt we’ll see some more as we head up the Macclesfield.

The moorings were most pleasant with their neatly refurbished railings and nice views over to Little Moreton Hall, and the weather initially clement: we spent Tuesday doing not a lot, apart from watching the forecast bad weather slowly close in. By late afternoon the front arrived, and the rain, thunder and lightning were most impressive…

Wednesday morning dawned with thick fog. We’d vaguely arranged to meet up with an old friend who lives in Macclesfield, but his garden was under water and his roof was leaking, so we took a rain check…

The fog soon cleared, and we headed off for Congleton and places North.

A Kidsgrove Bypass

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In a past life, the navigator had reason to make visits to a factory in Kidsgrove, and had no desire to repeat the experience – too many memories of standing in a corridor or squatting on the floor on the train – shades of Jeremy Corbyn – all the way home to Euston or Watford Junction. But with the Macclesfield Canal joining the Trent & Mersey Canal at Kidsgrove, another visit was impossible to avoid.

Climbing up Heartbreak Hill on the Trent and Mersey one is heading broadly South East; at Kidsgrove the Macclesfield Canal heads off in a North Easterly direction so one might expect to turn Left. But nothing’s that simple. You have to go through Kidsgrove twice. Coming up from the pleasant moorings at Church Lawton on the Monday morning, we were soon locking up the Red Bull Flight (nothing to do with a caffeinated fizzy drink) and passing under Poole Aqueduct, which carries the Macclesfield Canal over the top of the Trent & Mersey.

After half a mile or so there’s yet another lock, and the junction with the Macclesfield Canal heads off to the right, not the left. Then, quickly making yet another right turn, you head back for half a mile through Kidsgrove with the T&M a few yards on your right, and about twenty feet below, before another tight right turn takes you over Poole Aqueduct, and you can see where you were about an hour beforehand. So you’ve done two locks and all four sides of long thin rectangle, instead of just turning left and climbing onto the Macc from there. The only saving grace is that it’s all pretty heavily wooded, and you don’t actually see much of the delights of Kidsgrove.

Actually, it’s not that simple – canal builders politics. You’re not technically on the Macclesfield Canal yet, you’re on the Hall Green Arm of the Trent and Mersey.

After a short trip through some pleasant country with great views of Mow Cop, you finally arrive at Hall Green Lock.

Here is the real junction between the Macc and the T&M: a stop lock to prevent any possibility of water accidentally moving from one canal to another. It looks like there used to be two stop locks for the paranoid, or maybe the other area was for gauging the weight of the boats’ cargo. And two lockkeeper’s cottages (one for each canal authority). Hey ho. Still, it’s a nice atmospheric spot on a sunny afternoon.

A further short cruise brought us to some lovely rural visitor moorings near Ramsdell Hall. For National Trust groupies, we were also just a short walk from the iconic Little Moreton Hall. Time to chill out…

Heartbreak Hill and The Pussy Puissance

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The Trent & Mersey climbs relentlessly from Middlewich to Kidsgrove and Harecastle Tunnel, via 26 deep locks known to the old boatmen as the Cheshire Locks, but more commonly known these days as Heartbreak Hill. They’re not all in one flight so that you can get into a rhythm, but come in several different flights with different distances between. They are also – in many cases – doubled up to enable more traffic up and down.

Leaving the delights of the British Salt works on Saturday morning, we – or rather Biggles – decided that lunch was in order at Wheelock, just below the first lock. All of us soon found that there was little to keep us there (apart from the pub) so we girded our loins and made a start. The picture is of the two locks at the start of the climb.

Somewhere along the line, we spotted this canal-side cottage with an interesting arrangement for their master or mistress to get in or out. We came to the conclusion that it was a training course for the Pussy Puissance: there was no room on the window sill for a pussy to perch! Sir declined to have a go.

After 13 of these locks we’d had enough, and moored up by Lock 57: we’d discovered a very nice bistro/cafe/post office there once on a trip north, when we’d had to abandon the M6 due to a major jam round Sandbach and go off piste. Sad to say it was no more, and the cottage was up for sale. We did get a nice sunset, though,

Sunday morning, and we did another 10 of the deep locks, before deciding to enjoy the sunshine and have a lazy afternoon at some pleasant moorings near Church Lawton, rather than press on to the “delights” of Kidsgrove.

The Chief Gardener was very taken by a little friend she found on the tow path.

The Joy of SUCS

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By the time we’d finished all the chores at the Aqueduct Marina, it was late afternoon, but reluctant to stump up another night’s extortionate mooring fee (second only to Upton-on-Severn in our experience) we were determined to be off, and moor up at the first sensible spot. Hopefully near the village of Church Minshull itself, as there were rumours of a good pub to eat at, and although it was a bright sunny afternoon, it was blowing a gale.

Fortunately, just down the canal, there was a SUCS Mooring. Although you can theoretically tie up pretty well anywhere on the tow path side, it’s not always pleasant or practical. On the Shropshire Union Canal, the estimable Shropshire Union Canal Society have sponsored numerous mooring spots. These are usually nicely out in the boonies, with a splendid view, proper mooring rings, and are kept well maintained rather than allowed to get all overgrown. Quite a few have BBQ facilities and/or picnic tables. Originally restricting themselves to the Main Line, we’d noticed – and taken advantage of – several up the Llangollen Canal (technically the Llangollen Branch of the Shroppy) that had materialised since our last visit. Well done chaps.

These moorings above Church Minshull and the River Weaver on the Middlewich Arm were a splendid example of the joys of SUCS moorings; we were soon tied up. Bidding adieu to the Captain we headed down a steep path (part of the River Weaver Way) down through the woods, over the River, and found ourselves at The Badger Inn – an equally splendid spot for our dinner break. After a memorable repast, the climb back up from the River, through the woods, in pitch dark, was an interesting form of post prandial exercise.

Friday morning was less clement, and after a steady but unremarkable run we moored up in Middlewich just before the junction with the Trent & Mersey Canal. The town itself was nothing special, so after a snack lunch, and hitting the nearby Tesco store, we headed off again. Middlewich junction is fascinating, but a horrible bottleneck: the junction is between two locks, and the Arm starts immediately with another one. Put a major boatyard and chandlery in the middle, and a couple of hire bases either side, and the potential for chaos on a Friday afternoon is plenty. With so much going on, stopping for pictures was out of the question.

Never ones to make a decision when procrastination can be enjoyed, we eventually decided at the junction that we would turn Right. The original “plan” had been to turn left, and follow the Cheshire Ring up past the Anderton Lift, through Lymm and Manchester, up to Marple, and then down the Macclesfield Canal to Kidsgrove (back on the Trent and Mersey). However, at the last minute, and given our vague other plan to be back at Cropredy and home by mid/end October, this looked slightly ambitious. So it was a Right turn for Kidsgrove, followed by a return tripup the Macclesfield Canal and the Peak Forest Canal. There is no substitute for forward planning…

Anyway, heading South out of Middlewich, we determined to moor up at the first place that was away from the busy main road. No joy of SUCS here…It had a beautiful view of the salt works, which supplies over half of British salt.

Vampires, Teeth, Visitors and Chores

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If it’s Monday it must be Nantwich… and an early phone call provided details of a local dentist who could slot the navigator in for a repair later that morning. Meeting up with the head gardener afterwards, lunch at a charity creperie (a new one on us: food amongst the hand-me-down clothes racks), a wander round the shops and a visit to a local vet to collect some of Sir’s special diet, and the day soon passed.

Our peace and quiet was somewhat rattled by two Vampires in close formation flying low over the boat. T’Interweb suggests there’s only one airworthy example at the moment, so either the FOs aircraft identification skills are getting worse and one of them wasn’t a Vampire, or he’s seeing double. Maybe one was a Venom. Or they’ve got another one flying.

We’d had a communication from the Captain’s favourite standby staff, saying that they were going to be heading from North West Wales back to Windsor on Tuesday, and would like to call in en-route to pay their respects, so we ended up staying another night in Nantwich: technically overstaying, but the CaRT chap we spoke to didn’t seem that bothered.

Our friends duly arrived on Tuesday for a snack lunch at the local marina cafe, before departing late afternoon to do battle with the M6 and M42. Rather them than us.

Wednesday morning, and we left Nantwich Aqueduct, turned the boat round and headed back up the Shropshire Union; we waved at the Llangollen Canal as we passed Hurlestone Junction again, and turned Right at Barrbridge Junction onto the Middlewich Branch. We were now back where we’d planned to go, and were on unfamiliar territory. We also hadn’t decided where we were going after that, but never mind.

One thing we had decided was that the laundry mountain was beginning to reach crisis levels, so we’d booked ourselves into the Aqueduct Marina near Church Minshull for the night, to plug in Song & Dance and get some washing done. It really is a lovely spot, and the marina certainly has splendid facilities, including a decent cafe, serious league chandlery, superb showers and so on. It is also eye-wateringly expensive as marinas go, and renowned for it, seemingly. Ah well, never mind. At least we got the washing done, and stocked up on some boat bits.

Mind you, we nearly didn’t make it. At a lock some way before the marina, there was quite a queue, and it was hot and sunny, so while we had lunch on the hoof, moving down the queue, the Captain decided to go walkabout, disappearing down a steep overgrown hedgerow loaded with barbed wire. By the time we’d got to the front of the queue, there was still no sign, so we tied up and waited. And waited. And… about 14:45 he strolled nonchalantly across the towpath, jumped aboard and investigated his food bowl.

As a result, it was actually about 16:30 before we were properly ensconced in the marina. If we were going to make serious inroads on the laundry and make the most of our extortionate overnight mooring fee, we clearly weren’t going anywhere further until quite late on Thursday!

Biggles Goes Boating

… or a right Song & Dance.

Yearly Archives: 2016

Marple, Marple

A Musical Interlude in Happy Valley–Part 2

A Musical Interlude in Happy Valley–Part 1

Sheep May Safely Snore

Beatle Juice Leapfrog and Bosley Bottom Lock

Indian Country Chill Out

A Kidsgrove Bypass

Heartbreak Hill and The Pussy Puissance

The Joy of SUCS

Vampires, Teeth, Visitors and Chores