[Aside: Not quite sure why that post about the Dunkirk Little Ship has suddenly appeared… it was posted weeks ago, but has only just shown up. Ho Hum.]

The bank near The Anchor is rather soft and dry, and you need to ensure that any mooring pins are really secure and won’t pull out if another boat passes by. Kelly Ann clearly hadn’t!

Completely blocking the canal, and with no-one at the pub claiming ownership, we managed to board it, and with another passer-by (a boat yard chap from Byfleet way) poled it back alongside, then as a hint, really secured their pins. The Byfleet chap mentioned that their barge pole was rotten in the middle, and that he had several shiny new ones at his yard, should we see the culprits return.

The Kelly Ann  guys returned eventually, but rather than head downstream towards the Byfleet chap’s boatyard, they headed upstream. While trying to manoeuvre backwards into the marina entrance to turn round, their bargepole snapped…

Later, a wide-beam boat suffered the same pin-pulling indignity at the same spot. A posh chap in a tupperware cruiser arrived and fulminated “they’re blocking the navigation, you know” as though it was a deliberate, thoughtless act leaving a boat in his way, and proceeded to mutter mutter mutter while we pinned that one back too. Strange.

Setting off late on Sunday afternoon, just to move away from the pub, the wide-beam had almost come adrift again, but we squeezed past while another boater went to sort it out. We moored up not far away, then on Monday pottered gently down to the delights of Weybridge, through New Haw and Coxes Lock.

Continuing the passage to Guildford in hot sun but with quite a strong breeze, there’s a sharp hairpin bend just before Guildford where one struggles to get round tidily at the best of times in a long narrow boat.

There’s also a break in the tree shelter belt just there,  and the wind that day was broadside on to the boat at the critical point: despite all best efforts Song & Dance decided to go her own way, and ended up aground on the bank halfway round the bend under a weeping willow, gently touching the trunk. There was no one watching and no  damage apart from to her pride, so no harm done. The numerous fresh scars and assorted paintwork marks on the tree trunk suggested that we had made a rather better fist of it than some who had passed that way earlier…

The lovely weather had also brought the gongoozlers out in force at the lock in Guildford.

The transit through Guildford town centre is interesting, and quite quick: it’s a compact city.

There’s some interesting ironmongery at the town wharf, and it’s handy for The Electric Theatre  cafe.

It’s a bit close to where the yoof gather of an evening though, so I’m not sure we’d want to moor there overnight. Not sure  how the statement “Electricity Works” is supposed to be taken, although it certainly was at 19:13 that evening, as the chief cook listened to the Archers until the end without any electrical interruptions. It’s handy for the picture house, too.

But no worries, we’d taken the precaution of reserving a spot at Dapdune Wharf a few hundred metres down the water.

A pleasant wander through the Guildford – Godalming hinterland, and we were soon at Catteshall Boat House and lock. Tied up abreast in the middle of the canal, it started with a pump-out; then we remembered that we needed a new Calor Gas cylinder. Then, being so close to the diesel pump it seemed rude not to partake, and Song & Dance was rather emptier than we suspected, taking on over 120 litres of fuel. A rather expensive pit-stop.

Half a mile further on, moored up on Godalming Town Wharf and conveniently situated for Sainsburys and Waitrose, we found (a) we were out of wine and (b) the latter had a special 25% off wine if you buy in bulk.  Another expensive pit-stop. With the old credit cards licking their wounds we went for a wander round town.

Our knowledge of Godalming is really down to either a quick whizz round the ring road on the way to Winkworth Arboretum, or occasional visits in the dark for the estimable GBH Ceilidhs to the Borough Hall (which is just over the bridge on the way in) . So we were rather surprised to find that there was quite a lot of town centre we’d never seen, much of it pleasant and of some vintage.

As well as satisfying the chief cook’s shopping urges, a quick tour round the Museum ensued: a fascinating building as well as interesting contents. It’s normally closed on Mondays, but an old friend, archivist and – it must be said – Morris dancer, was working there that day so we had a private tour. (That’s her peering at a heavy tome on the Museum web-site).

We were all really rather taken with Godalming, particularly after visiting the eclectic and infamous Record Corner.

Moving across from the wharf to more amenable moorings on the towpath, another thing that hadn’t occurred to us was that horse-drawn barges not only have a horse a long way in front (that’s Maisy above with her mistress) , but need someone whose job it is to lift the rope up and over obstructions such as moored boats. Unwarily emerging up on deck through the rear hatch at an inopportune time could result in an epitaph even more bizarre than ending up as duck food or impaled on a swan. Still, it’s another good reason for keeping the roof clear of obstacles.

We’d stayed on in Godalming another night, vaguely expecting a visit from Fran’s niece which didn’t materialise. But no mind, it’s a nice place to mooch around, with plenty of supermarkets, shops, eateries and charity shops to keep the crew interested.

We had to stop at Dapdune Wharf, as tucked behind it is the main office for the Wey and Godalming Navigation, on which we had been floating for nearly a week without a licence. The paperwork completed, the wharf itself was unoccupied, so we were cleared to stay there overnight: a good job, as we were expecting friends to join us there the next morning! (When the book says there’s overnight moorings, they normally mean for more than one boat).

Another of those places with an entrance that we’ve driven past hundreds of times but never visited, the wharf is rather fine, and although literally in the middle of Guildford, it’s tucked away behind the Surrey Cricket Club ground, five minutes walk from the main shopping streets. Again, seemingly remote and cut-off from the world, apart from the trains crossing Dapdune Viaduct, which are strangely noisy.

Reliance the wooden Wey barge looked very big “dry docked”, and was still in use until it collided with Cannon Street Bridge in 1968, and sank.

Biggles was very taken with the wharf and environs, particularly once the day-trippers had departed and we had the place to ourselves.

Less impressed were the young magpies who clearly regarded the Captain as a threat, and spent every minute he was ashore flapping around and making a serious racket, until he got bored and wandered back onto the boat. (If you click on the picture and look carefully, you can see one of them “gi’in it laldy” trying to scare him off). Still, at least there were two magpies, so a reason to be joyful.

Said friends duly arrived half-an-hour early on the Saturday morning, which caused some initial panic amongst the cleaning staff, but the sun was warm and bright, and set fair for boating.