I lied

Day 42, Northampton

Warrior and the Duckies were not actually still half way down Rothersthorpe last night; they had in fact got to Northampton, where they are still, waiting for the Nene to become passable. It has been dry today; and will be dry tomorrow. If this state of affairs were to continue but a little longer, then all would be well. But apparently it is forecast to tip down on Friday, according to Jim's newest friend Andy of the EA. Now, they could get as far as Doddington Lock, which is some ten miles towards their target, but if they were then stuck there, it is the middle of nowhere, whereas at Northampton there is - despite its being superficially unprepossessing - a Netto, cornucopia of cheap delights, Guardians and other trappings of civilisation. So until there is a greater degree of certainty vis-a-vis getting all the way to Peterborough, there they stay, in the baleful shadow of the Carlsberg factory (I won't dignify it with the title brewery).

Jim is still happy (this strikes me as an excellent domestic arrangement) and has been graining the back cabin.