Saying goodbye to our bonnie moorhen, we pottered on down the Soar, called in at Pillings Lock Marina for lunch and to unload some of the black stuff. The marina seems to have delusions of joining Mercia mega-Marina in the tourist destination stakes but has a way to go yet.

By mid-afternoon we’d worked up through Mountsorrel lock and called it a day, boating wise. This was as far as we’d been down the Soar before: from here on we would be in unknown territory. In the meantime, we’d have a look around the town.

It was a grey and not overly warm day, but the lock area is quite attractive, the lockside pub had been refurbished, and it was way warmer than our last visit…

… back in April 2006, when we woke up to a hard frost!

Wandering down the main street (once upon a time the A6), one comes across the Buttermarket. The street going up the hill by the side is called Watling Street; we weren’t sure if the lady was waiting  for some Romans or the cafe to open, but either way we suspect she was going to be disappointed.

Paralleling the main street is quite a mound, or mount even, with a beacon on top, as well as a rather fine looking private residence…

… and fine views of the local area, too.

Back on terra firma / the old A6 we stumbled on a strange emporium which, as well as offering to sell or make you pine furniture seven days a week, had an unusual collection of bits and pieces, including a novel re-use of a wooden crutch and ladder especially for a lady from North Wales, and two large bronze eagles tucked up a side passage. I’m sorry I haven’t a clue what they were doing there. Didn’t find any Romans though.