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“High technology wiring a doorbell has done us one great service: It has retaught us the delight of performing simple and primordial tasks - chopping wood, building a fire, drawing water from a spring” ~Edward Abbey (American environmental Writer)
   Look who's chopping wood again! We love to find wood as we cruise along. I help carry larger limbs back to the boat. Now Les feels well enough and strong enough to do a bit more on his own. Happy as a puppy with two tails!
   We are blessed with such mild weather so far this winter and at last--at last we are moving again, albeit in a relatively confined area of the canal system due to waiting wiring a doorbell for word about Les' further surgeries. wiring a doorbell That's okay with me. His energy levels are on the rise and every day my husband is capable of doing something he couldn't contemplate three weeks previously. Les is still on the skinny side and his clothes hang off of him, but he is happy and healthier once more. Les chopping wood we scored near Horton lock
   We received notice that Les' prostate surgery has now been scheduled for March 3rd at Watford General Hospital. He will back on level five which is where he was previously, so hopefully we won't have to break in a new staff regarding who we are, and our expectations wiring a doorbell for the level of care an NHS hospital and staff should be capable of providing to its patients. We will see...in the meantime wiring a doorbell we will slowly make our way back towards Marsworth over the next couple of weeks, taking time to travel the Aylesbury arm which neither of us has done before.
   This brings Jo and Keith Lodge on NB Hadar to mind. They were on the Aylesbury 'round about March of last year and spotted the beginning of the rupture which closed down the arm for repairs most of last year. Hadar just managed to escape the arm before the closure. wiring a doorbell Now Keith is in hospital fighting for his life and Jo is visiting him every day. She is posting updates on Keith's situation on Hadar's wiring a doorbell blog (follow wiring a doorbell the link above) and keeps us abreast of her feelings about all of this on her blog Where I Belong . Sound familiar?
    They are experiencing some of the same issues we faced in October--frustration wiring a doorbell and a feeling of helplessness while one's life is held in the hands of others who too often treat it all as just one more shift at work. Our thoughts are with them both. We know exactly how it feels and I tell you now that while we are moving on with our lives as much as possible wiring a doorbell I am not looking wiring a doorbell forward to dealing with the bureaucracy and failures of the NHS through two more surgeries and recovery.
   We came back into Leighton Buzzard and spent one night moored up in town to access the library reference historical books and maps, stopping at a chip shop for a paper cone of chips with vinegar to munch as we walked through the High street. One night was enough sandwiched between two boats who totally disregarded regulation regarding running the boat engine after 8 pm. Given that we left Old Lindslade because our usual quiet country mooring spot quickly filled up with a raft of floating humanity all around us with some questionable looking characters wiring a doorbell wandering up and down the towpath, we were ready to find a spot with more quiet.
  How questionable you ask? Well we were traveling up a lock back into town and two men were moving a small, derelict looking narrow boat into the lock by hand. Les was with NB Val while I walked up to help with the lock. The blokes looked up from their boat hauling, red faced and puffed out. 
   "Have you got a key we can borrow? We don't have one," said the fellow who appeared to be in charge of this operation. I replied, "A key? You mean a windlass? You don't have a windlass? Why is that?"
   "We just bought this boat last night and they took the windlasses with them. We are taking the boat to the marina up ahead for work." He didn't meet my eyes. What marina, I am thinking...there is no marina between this lock and a long, long way...I quickly decided to keep hold of my windlass.
   "I'll set the lock for you," and I got on with it. As the men towed the boat out by hand after the lock emptied and I opened a gate for them, there was no "thank you" or "cheers mate." They pulled the boat to the bollards, got on, started up the outboard motor and took off. It made me wonder if there was a demolition or recovery crew waiting ahead.
   We cruised out of Leighton Buzzard the next morning in doubtful weather.  Soon the sky began to spit on us so