Aiming for Banbury on Friday, we headed off through Aynho Weir Lock. Like Shipton Wier Lock, it’s an odd lozenge shape that’s fine for 70ft boats and for any less than about 30ft, but a right bu**er for 58ft boats like Song & Dance. Onto the River Cherwell again, I jumped ship some way in advance of Nell’s Bridge Lock, as you need to cross a main road to get at it, Walking up the towpath, I noticed a small commotion: it looked like a sparrow having a dust bath, as one sometimes sees. Quietly moving closer, it appeared to be two smaller birds having a dust bath together – robins I originally thought. Creeping even closer it became clear it was two young wrens having a serious punch-up. They were both flapping around and pecking away at each  other, rolling on their backs and trying to trap the other in the claw waving disembowelling move familiar to any cat staff (but with only two legs, rather less successfully). Never seen anything like that before! With no camera to hand, I got within two feet before both jumped onto their feet then flew into the hedgerow. Adolescent brothers, maybe…

Stopping at the Pig Place just above the lock, madame was again failing to cook bacon sarnies, so we bought some sausages for later, had lunch on the boat and trundled off through Kings Sutton for Banbury. One of these days we’ll visit Kings Sutton – it lies very close to the canal and looks interesting, but with no way across the intervening River Cherwell and railway line the nearest point of access is a couple of bridges up then a long walk back along a main-ish road. Next year maybe.

Anyway, we pottered into Banbury late afternoon, and passing through Castle Quay noticed Herbie again with someone on board, so mooring up again at Spiceball Park, we strolled back along the towpath and banged on the hatch. Sure enough, Neil & Kath emerged: they’d seen us at Heyford when they returned by train from a cultural trip to Oxford. They’d had some friends on board, hence “That’s not Neil at the helm”. Anyway, the teapot was produced, and after a considerable natter we retired to Song & Dance for DIY bangers and mash.

After a shopping expedition on Saturday morning for Sir’s provisions and some clothes for the FO, we set off to get up through Slat Mill Lock and moor by Peewit Farm, just short of Cropredy. The plan was to get into Cropredy  Marina on Sunday morning, and make a start on the enormous laundry backlog. Monday would be devoted to much the same, with maybe a side trip by car to the big Tesco on the outskirts of Banbury, while Tuesday would see an early start down the M40 to Ruislip Crematorium for a funeral. Coming out of Banbury, by the huge new Amazon warehouse, and still miles from the misnamed Peewit Farm and the other side of the M40, we heard a pair of curlews bubbling away. An omen?

Setting off through Kidlington Green lock on the Tuesday morning, Biggles’ chauffeurs from the day before had already left, and we had a quick run through the outskirts of Kidlington before a stop at Thrupp for first lunch on the boat then a mandatory coffee and cake for second lunch at Annie’s Tea Room. Climbing on and off the River Cherwell at Shipton Weir Lock and Bakers Lock respectively, we failed to get moored anywhere near the Rock of Gibraltar pub so were saved the necessity of a third lunch, and moored up just below Pigeon Lock, near Kirtlington – a place we’ve used quite a few times before. It’s where Biggles first went swimming.

The next morning, as we went up Pigeon Lock, we noticed that as well as loads of blossom, petals and general debris, the water was full of small dead – or occasionally just very nearly dead – winged insects. They didn’t seem to be flying ants; there didn’t seem to many insects flying around, and there were hundreds of the things in every square foot of surface water. Must have been millions overall – we noticed this for some miles up the canal. All very odd.

Cruising along below Kirtlington Quarry on Wednesday morning, the woods were full of bluebells. With no sign of them on the way down last week, the warm and sunny weekend must have brought them all out, even if the weather had again turned dull and cold.

Just before Northbrook lock, a boat coming the other way said that one of the top paddles was stuck up (or rather jammed up – they’re not proud); they’d had real difficulty opening the bottom gate and extracting their boat, and called CaRT. As we arrived, two CaRT people were walking down the bank with long poles and hooks, expecting to fish debris out of the paddle area. After half-an-hour with no success, they said they’d try and get us through by brute force, and with the bottom paddles open and three of us straining on the balance beam, we managed to crack the bottom gate open and equalize the pressure. Once the bottom gate was open, there was no problem in locking up; once through we said “good bye and thanks” and left them carrying on trying to fix the problem.

Arriving at Heyford, there was space on the visitor mooring, and we weren’t in a hurry, so we moored up after a short-ish day. We noticed we were immediately in front of our folky friends Neil & Kath’s boat Herbie. They moor Herbie at Cropredy these days, so it wasn’t surprising. The boat was closed up with no sign of life, and with Heyford station so close, we guessed they’d maybe caught a train somewhere. Or perhaps just retired to the pub. Never mind – it was cold so we retired to The Bell for dinner ourselves. Last time we were there they persuaded SWMBO to try some dry Perry one lunchtime. It was over 7% ABV. After nearly three-quarters of a punt she was somewhat unnecessary the rest of the afternoon.

We were a little late getting organised on Thursday morning, and saw Herbie pulling away. “That’s not Neil at the helm” remarked herself. Perhaps they’d lent the boat to some friends for a few days. It was still cold and miserable, so after negotiating Heyford more quickly than usual – they’ve electrified the really difficult lift bridge (hooray) – and pulling up just outside Upper Heyford at Allen’s Lock we went up the hill to The Barley Mow for lunch and a warm up. The Guinness was good, as were the baguettes, and they had a nice fire going. Perfect. Setting off again into the cold, we ended up mooring at another favourite spot between Somerton Deep Lock and Aynho Wharf. Even when you know it well, it’s a nice canal for pottering along slowly.