Decision Time

Barby to Napton, 10 miles, 0 locks

Another day of fantastic weather and with big decisions to make we set off for adventure. First, though, there was Bridge 80 on the Oxford Canal. I'd read about this and how it's in a very poor state, but actually that doesn't describe it well. "Miracle it's still standing" is what describes it well. I can't tell whether the damage is due to unwary boaters (80 is on a bad turn) or subsidence or just plain old wear and tear, but really it needs to be sorted out. 

Braunston was soon on the horizon and before we knew it we were at Braunston Turn. The big decision I spoke of earlier is whether to continue down the Oxford and return to London via the Thames, which might be subject to flooding if the weather goes wonky, or take the safe (but dull) route back the way I came up down the Grand Union. In the end, the Oxford won it, so we knew we needed to turn off. Nicholson's, typically, doesn't give you any idea of the layout of the junction and neither do BW, so I was a bit surprised to see two bridges. Was I supposed to go under the first one or was that disused or something. Eventually it all became clear—that the canal designers sensibly put in a Y junction and you just decide which direction you're going in—but I fluffed the turn completely due to there being boats moored on the towpath side almost up to the first bridge and an oncoming boat that wanted to moor at the water point, which is on the offside. This on a bend where you're trying to turn and where the canal isn't all that wide. Brilliant. We got around eventually and moored just after the first bridge. I was surprised to find that I couldn't pull Oothoon up to the bank due to the shallowness, but we moored up well enough and set off with rubbish to be disposed of. Now it's at times like this that a map and some clues as to which is the best way to do things would be helpful, because the facilities are all next to the water point—on the other side of the canal. Not knowing any better, we walked along the canal to the right, past the pub an to a road bridge; then it was back on ourselves and trying to work out where the facilities were from the road. Eventually we found them just past Midland Chandlers and although there's a BW gate, it was locked. Fortunately Midland have built gates into their surrounding fence so you can get to the BW facilities, where we dumped the rubbish. We had a quick look in the chandlery and decided to come back later—if only for the coffee which looked good—then went to the pub.

I'd mooted the idea of a pub lunch when we first set off and it sounded like a wonderful idea, especially as I wanted to have a look at Braunston Turn. The only canalside pub is The Millhouse Hotel which looked a bit 'corporate' (i.e. posh cars in the car park). Undaunted we went in, with me wanting a Ploughmans, which I ordered. When I got asked whether I wanted white or brown bread, I was a little taken aback. Surely a Ploughmans always came with a baguette, or at least French-style bread? It turns out that what I'd ordered was a Ploughmans sandwich. If I wanted a Ploughman's baguette they could do one, but it'd be over a quid more—no doubt due to (a) a baguette being perceived as being more swanky than a mere sandwich and (b) baguettes coming with chips rather than crisps. Surprisingly, given that they clearly had the ingredients, they didn't do an actual Ploughman's lunch. Not wanting to pay more and not being fussed about the chips, I elected to stick with the sandwich and on white bread; Paul had a Prawn Cocktail sandwich on brown. Then we ordered drinks. Paul's was a straightforward Apple Juice, but I ordered a shandy made with Bass beer. I was a bit shocked when I tasted it, because there was no 'lemonade' sweetness to it. It actually tasted exactly like what I expect watered down beer to taste like. Not happy about this, I asked whether I'd been given a shandy and the bartender was sure that I had. I then asked whether it was possible that the lemonade dispenser had run out of syrup,  since there was no fizz in my shandy and no sweetness. The bartender went off 'to check' and came back a while later to tell me that everything was connected up correctly. He then poured a little bit of lemonade into a glass and took a sip, the pulled a face telling me that it was definitely lemonade because he hated the stuff. Faced with this incontrovertible evidence, I accepted the drink and we paid, but it was the worst glass of 'shandy' I've ever had and certainly the worst glass of Bass. In the end I left it, due to it being undrinkable.

When the sandwiches arrived, we both noticed that the face of one of the slices of bread was slightly dry, like it was from the open end of the loaf. Paul seemed happy with the filling in his, which included watercress instead of lettuce; I was less happy with mine, feeling that surely a major component of a Ploughman's anything is cheese and this had only a small quantity of grated cheese. Indeed while not unpleasant, it tasted mainly of chutney, mayonnaise and watercress. Both of us were surprised to have chips accompanying our sandwich and I have to say that these were very good—crispy on the outside and fluffy within. The mayonnaise that Paul requested to dip his chips in was less lovely, but he seemed happy enough.

As we left, Paul popped to the loo and returned with a big smile on his face as he'd bought us both 'chewable toothbrushes' to cheer us up. These come in a plastic sphere which I couldn't get into, but actually you just squeeze it. The toothbrush itself is a little brush with a vial of toothpaste attached and you just pop it in your mouth and chew. Almost immediately I realised that this was a bad idea, since the toothpaste is strongly minty and disgusting, and the toothbrush feels like you've been eating something to find that there's a bone in it. After about five seconds I had to spit mine out because it was so horrible and a few minutes later I realised that the taste of the toothpaste had upset my stomach and I was feeling bilious. We were walking back towards Midland Chandlers and it was a relief to get in there and order a Cappuccino. It's a very well-stocked chandlery but the promised LED lights ("Ask at the counter about our range of LED lighting") turned out to be a damp squib, with them only having received a few samples to try out and which had all gone.

After the disappointment of Braunston Turn, we got on our way again. I wanted to get at least past Napton Junction—which is completely anticlimactic—and possibly a lot further if possible. I know that the map says that we're on the Grand Union Canal, but really it feels like the Oxford. Speaking of maps, Nicholson's, in a very vexing way, takes you from page 156/157 on the Oxford, across to page 82/83 on the Grand Union for the Braunston to Napton Junction section, then back to page 154/155. Surely it wouldn't have killed them to have duplicated pages 82/83 in the 'Oxford' section, rather than making you jump across half the book for a single page, especially one with a junction at either end?

The most obvious place for us to stop was Napton bottom lock, which we aimed for. En-route we saw signs for the Folly Pie Pub and were most intrigued by it, so when we arrived at Napton and got moored with no problems, that's where we headed. As its name suggests, its a pub that specialises in pies and they're great. I had the Chicken, Ham and Mustard pie with Paul having the plain Chicken and Mushroom. Both were excellent, with mine chock full of chicken and good hods of ham, flavoured with a noticeable but not overpowering tang of mustard. Both came with vegetables and croquette potatoes. Less successful was the Apple Crumble I ordered for dessert, which seemed to have been microwaved and whose temperature was distinctly variable. Worse yet was the coffee, which was Craigmillar-style instant catering coffee at its worst. Verdict: pies—fantastic; puddings—so so; coffee-avoid!

While we're on the subject of the Folly Pie Pub, can I just mention a curious item that they have on the bar: it's a very large brown lion with a white mane, lying on a plinth that says "Needlers Chocolate, Hull". We asked the landlord about it and apparently it is made of chocolate, with the mane made of white chocolate. It had originally been made for a trade show and since then had been in a college in Leeds. They were all for throwing it in a skip, but a lecturer at the college, who was a friend of the landlord's, saved it and brought it to the pub, where it has been ever since. It's very old now and the chocolate looks more like plaster than something you might eat (but just in case there's a "Do Not Touch" sign on it) but it seems to have survived the years and the nicotine and the dust, and is an offbeat memorial to a company that it appears are long gone.

After the pub we retired back to Oothoon. Being Saturday night we were keen to fire up Animal Crossing and get over to Brewsters, because K.K. Slider would be playing. You can request songs from him, although I don't really know the names of any, but if you let him play one of his own selection, he gives you a bootleg of it afterwards, that you can play if you've got a tape player in your house. I've got three now and they're all very catchy. Tonight on my DS, he played K.K. Lullaby, which is on the slow side, whereas on Paul's DS he played K.K. D&B—a catchy drum and bass number. As big K.K. Slider fans, we were both thrilled.