Having retrieved the Captain from his nocturnal exploration of the John Pinkerton II, done a load of washing and drying (yes, the chores still need doing), filled Song & Dance with water and emptied all the various waste receptacles, it was late afternoon. The previous day’s cruise up to the castle (in convoy with the trip boats, in company with all the towpath visitors, mediaeval re-enactors and with our guests on board) had been busy, so we set off to repeat the experience when no-one was around, and spend the night on the castle moorings out in the peace and quiet of the countryside.

It was beautifully peaceful until about 20:00, when the John Pinkerton II arrived with a private charter full of loud silver surfers who had clearly been enjoying a free bar during the cruise up canal, so a walk in the dusk up to the end of the canal seemed in order.

Some more freshly baked cygnets were spotted, as were the remains of Lock 30, before reaching the portal of Greywell Tunnel, the end of the canal as far as water is concerned (the end of the navigable section being at the Castle). With a constant temperature and humidity, it’s now an SSSI and one of the most important bat caves in Europe.

On our return to the castle, the rowdy old’uns had departed back to town on their steel gin palace, and we had the castle to ourselves in the setting sun.

The remains of the octagonal keep are all that’s left, but it’s still pretty impressive.

And a delightfully quiet night ensued, while Biggles caught up on his history homework exploring the castle grounds at night.

Can’t help thinking It’s not the Leaving of Laleham  might have made a better song title, but there you go. Swiftly under Chertsey Bridge and thankfully everything looks rather dryer than it did in the winter of 2013/14! Seems strange to be narrowboating in Surrey.

After watching all the ducks and goslings growing mad, just below Chertsey Bridge we spotted our first cygnets of the season.

Leaving Shepperton Lock with a wave to Piper Dutch Barge Calliope waiting to enter, carving our way through the myriad canoeists and we’ve left the Thames’ wide open vistas for the rather more closed-in Wey Navigation at Thames Lock.

Thames Lock is really almost a staircase lock in disguise: below the real lock there’s a sizeable curved pound and another gate, so that when necessary – as it was for us even though we don’t draw much at all – they can raise the water level just a foot or so, to clear the bottom cill of the main chamber.

Some fancy apartments here too: it’s within spitting distance of Weybridge high street, so Biggles decided not to waste time visiting the local estate agent.

Some fancy apartments just down the cut at Coxes Lock too. Nice that the old mill was preserved, though.

Passing Pelican Wharf there were several boats with names that should be punished, such as This Wey Up : we’ll spare you the others.

We eventually moored up just above New Haw Lock, where the Captain’s BFF Emma Jane (she of the hat in our winter wanderings) joined us for a meal at the adjacent White Hart pub.

Anyone who’d bought tickets for the Royal Windsor Horse Show for the Thursday must have been well peed off. Wednesday had been a beautiful day, but Thursday was just awful, with heavy rain all day. Fortunately this had been expected by the Captain, and a car fetched from home the previous evening enabled the first mate to go off and play Badminton with her group, a number of errands to be run, and a much needed bend and stretch at one of Swami Ji’s yoga classes.

Friday dawned rather better, and passing under the M25 and A30 at Wraysbury, it’s obvious that the river is getting wider, the boats bigger, and the houses odder.

Someone was celebrating their 60th Birthday in style, and at Penton Hook it was a delight to see a beautiful restoration of one of the original Dunkirk Little Ships, proudly wearing its Dunkirk 1940 plaque. It was “fresh out the box” and looked just lovely. 50 years ago Fran & I shared a pretend Aunt and Uncle who owned one. There were loads then… there can’t be many left now. Not sure if they were joining the imminent Return to Dunkirk, but it would be nice to think so,

Lunching at the new town of Staines-on-Thames (which looked astonishingly like the Staines of old) , further down the river we came across a short section where we counted over 60 swans swimming around before giving up. Round the bend, in what looked like a similar bit of water, not a swan in sight, but wall-to-wall Common Terns skimming the water. A bit further, and the only birds in sight were dozens of Black-Headed Gulls. Strange how they divvy up the river between them.

To end the day, decent moorings at Laleham enabled a visit from an old morris dancing groupie friend… 60 years ago he’d worked at the boat yard across the water. Hadn’t moved far!

After getting over the shock of Pay & Display machines for boats, a wander round Henley-on-Thames, a pleasant town with lots of interesting buildings, even if the green open spaces are already being taken over by marquees in preparation for the regatta.

A nanosecond’s glance in any of the estate agent windows makes it abundantly clear that if we decide to move house, it won’t be to Henley. Just opposite our mooring, on an island with no pedestrian or vehicular access (boat excepted) a new house – well, more a substantial garden shed – has apparently just been sold for upwards of half a million pounds…

It rained a bit but the sun came out and gave us splendid double rainbow.

Some Canada Geese put a new slant on getting one’s ducks in a row, while we bumbled into Happy Chance once again. She does look rather splendid, but we’ll have to stop meeting like this.