Crew found! All appendages crossed for a safe third time lucky journey tomorrow

The wonders of the blogosphere aye? Thank you to Twitterland too, from where friends said they would have jumped at the chance had they been in the country. And then a lovely Tweeting lady offered – simultaneously friends from when we moored at Tattenhall Marina phoned Barry directly and offered their services.

So hurrah! We’re sorted. Barry can smile again (he was bereft!).

Thank you Andy and Liz.

I’ll be flying to Minorca as they’re cruising across the Ribble Link, and I’ll meet up with Barry in Lancaster on Tuesday 5th June.

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Anyone nearby want to crew for the Ribble Link tomorrow?

Having postponed our initial Ribble Link crossing of 15th May, due to the sudden and unexpected death of my mum, we’d re-booked it for today. Available on the CRT website when we looked a few days after arriving in Ombersley was yesterday, today or tomorrow. Yesterday was the day after my dear mum’s funeral – a definite no-goer. Tomorrow I’m flying to Minorca with my eldest daughter and grandsons for a week. Obviously that wasn’t a possibility either. Today was our ‘window’.

The weather gods have decided otherwise. We’ve just heard today’s crossing is cancelled due to the wind. I’m guessing I’m not destined to do this!

For this year, tomorrow is our only chance of getting up to the Lancaster Canal. Barry can’t do it alone. There must be two competent crew on board.

So dear blog readers. Is there anyone nearby familiar with narrow boating, and keen/available to be on board with Barry?

Go to our contact details this morning if possible, and let us know, and we can chat about possibilities.

Two days later and a short explanation

I’m beginning to write this post exactly 48 hours after I received a shocking phone call. Barry and I had just left Areandare and were walking to the River Douglas to check it out before we went through Tarleton Lock at 10am on Tuesday morning, for our planned Ribble Link crossing.

From an unknown number, which I sometimes ignore – fortunately this time I chose to answer. It was a mobile number. A calm and kindly male voice was at the other end. His name was Edward. A paramedic. He ascertained who I was, and then broke the devastating news to me that my darling mum had been found dead at home by her evening carer. Continue reading