Canal boating with the parentals

My mum and her old friend (my God mother), Gunnevi, both turn 60 in August and instead of sobbing, they celebrated the occasion by bringing their husbands on a canal boating week on the Stratford Canal in England. I joined them on the boat after they had spent a few days to get used to maneuvering the 60 feet monster on the narrow canals. One the first day, they managed to get lost in the first "intersection" and ended up having to truck along for 1 hr to be able to turn around again. I missed this drama and found them in a very sedated state in a pub.

This was the opportune moment for Charlie's and my parents to meet. My parents would be half drunk from sampling the English beer at every pub along the canal, and speak fluent English. That was the plan. I think the language barrier was never really an issue. Both our fathers discovered some obscure shared interests - they both have a real interest for the French film maker Jacques Tati and that kept them going for a while.

We all had gorgeous lunch at a picturesque English pub and cramped into the boat for an aperitif. We could fit 8 in the salon, which is not too bad, particularly after finishing the substantial lunch. When mum explained to me over the phone where we could find them, she was dead certain that the boat was called "Mountain Trash". I thought that was a very strange, and somewhat downgrading name to give a boat aiming to target tourists. It all made more sense when I saw the actual name of it: Both Mati and dad are over 60 but I think it may still be a bit premature to put up this sign when they are in the hoods: Charlie had a few days with his parents in Oxford, whilst I spent the time with my folks. Canal boating was nice...very slow, but nice. I think I would have gone bonkers after more than a week. Travelling with a 60 feet boat is slow; you can actually walk faster on the side. It is not about speed, it's about the pubs.

Dad waiting for his crew to open the lock in front to allow passage. Opening and closing locks is a physical business. Mum and Gunnevi had sore arms after their first day when they ended up going through over 30 locks. Great workout for the bingo wings (gadd-hang pa svenska). Mati also got his fare share of the work.
We all took turn to steer (excluding me, since I am a liability). This way of travelling certainly gave us a good impression of England. All houses along the canal had beautiful gardens and mum took far too many pictures of flowers. Waiting by he lock was always social. We often started chatting to other boat owners, who gave us lengthy stories about where they have been travelling and their tricks to opening the locks with as little effort as possible. Charlie came to pick me up so that we could head to Sheffield for some mountain biking and some serious catching up with his old mates. We took farewell of the professional boat cruisers. In 7 days they managed to move 40 km up the canal and back again to Alvechurch...My advice: don't go on the canal if you want any speed or action.

On the way past Oxford, they visited Charlie parents for a quick hallo. Charlie's mum offered them typical English sandwiches with cucumber followed by some delicious dessert (no doubt). Chris and John may feel shortchanged when they come to Sweden and get pickled herring as the traditional Swedish delicacy!