Beyond the Familiar Entrance : finally turning into the Kennet and Avon

There are some waterways that we have motored past countless times, and always wondering what lies beyond and what it might be like to venture up them.

The Kennet and Avon Canal is one of them. Every time we have travelled up and down the Thames, we have passed the entrance to this canal. But exploring it aboard Deux Poissons simply isn't possible. With her height, she wouldn't get beneath the bridges and we knew the canal would be too shallow in some places.

Our tender, TT Deux Poissons, who we affectionally call ‘Petit Deux Poissons’, however, can make it under bridges and will manage shallow areas.

So, after talking about doing it for some time, we finally chose a day, packed a picnic and set off to discover what was beyond that familiar entrance.

We left Deux Poissons at 09h00 aboard our little tender. I had packed enough snacks and drinks for a proper day out — beers, cool drinks and, of course, Bailey’s coffee.

It was going to take us about an hour to reach the entrance to the Kennet and Avon Canal, but first we had to pass through Caversham Lock. This lock and Deux Poissons have quite a history. It was the last lock we passed through in 2024, before our gearbox packed up. It was also the lock where, in 2025, our old engine died and brought our trip to France to an abrupt (temporary) halt.

This time, entering the lock on a small tender instead of a “lump of steel” felt very different. The tender is tiny in comparison and I suddenly felt rather vulnerable sitting so close to the water. We knew we could hold onto the chains fixed to the lock walls, but they were attached to some extremely slimy-looking walls and that was definitely not how I wanted to start my day!

So we thought we'd simply bob around in the lock instead. That was the plan. But as the water began emptying, the boat started swinging around and the rush of water suddenly felt very real. And loud. But we were simply out to enjoy ourselves, so with an empty lock, Patrick started the engine and we reversed back out of the lock.

I have absolutely no idea what the lock keeper must have thought… This lock holds so many of our stories, this was just another one!!

Travelling along this very familiar stretch of the Thames in such a small boat was lovely too. Being so low to the water gives you a completely different perspective. It was almost like getting a bird's-eye view — except from towpath level! We noticed things along the riverbank that we'd somehow missed despite travelling this route so many times before.

Before long, we reached the entrance to the Kennet & Avon Canal.

The Kennet & Avon is an 87-mile historic waterway stretching across southern England, linking the Thames at Reading with waterways leading west through Newbury, Bath and eventually Bristol. Along the way are some wonderful pieces of canal history, including the famous Caen Hill Locks, Dundas Aqueduct and Crofton Pumping Station.

We weren't going anywhere near that far! In fact, for once, we didn't really have a destination at all. We had decided on just one rule: (besides keeping the beer cool) we would keep going until 13h00 and then turn around. That gave us plenty of time to explore without having to worry about getting back before dark.

For all our time cruising the Thames, we've become very accustomed to hydraulic, powered locks. However, we knew this little adventure was going to be much more "old school" — lock keys, winding paddles up and down and pushing opening gates ourselves.

We've enjoyed canal holidays in the past, so it wasn't entirely new to us. It had just been a while. I do, however, remember the aching muscles the morning after working all those locks. It's quite a workout!

We had deliberately done very little detailed planning for this trip. We had bought ourselves a lock key because we knew we'd need one, but we hadn't worked out exactly how many locks we'd encounter before our 13h00 turnaround.

We were just going to see where the water took us.

Blake's Lock — Now What?

Our first lock was Blake's Lock. As expected, it wasn't automated. What we hadn't expected was that it wasn't operated with our shiny new key either!

Instead, there were two a large wheels that had to be turned. Beside each wheel were two poles which moved up and down as the wheel turned — one red and one white. There didn't appear to be anything explaining what the colours meant. So we started turning. As the wheel went around, the white pole began rising and the red one lowering. Since we were trying to empty the lock, we very quickly worked out what the colours were telling us! We later found out that this sluice mechanism at Blake's Lock is a strictly manually operated rack-and-pinion system controlled by traditional winding wheels and manual balance beams. Unlike most locks managed by the Environmental Agency in the River Thames, Blake’s Lock has explicitly resisted modernisation to hydraulic or electric power. It retains its traditional mechanical charm to preserve its role as a historic gateway between the River Thames and the Kennet and Avon Canal.

I emptied the lock while Patrick brought the boat in. Fortunately, these locks are much smaller than the Thames locks and we were completely alone, so Patrick could simply bob around in the middle while I operated everything.

And, importantly, this time he didn't have to reverse back out!

Reading — But Not As We Knew It

It wasn't long before we found ourselves heading right into the centre of Reading. This was quite surreal.

We've been into Reading many times, usually cycling in to go shopping or simply exploring the area. Now we were seeing familiar places from a completely different angle. We knew where we were — and yet somehow it all looked new.

Along the way we spotted a few little side canals and, having absolutely nowhere we needed to be, naturally we went down them to see where they led. At one point we found ourselves beside Reading Abbey, somewhere we'd visited by bicycle the previous year.

Seeing it again from the water somehow connected all these familiar places together in a completely new way.

The Abbey was founded by Henry 1 in 1121 "for the salvation of my soul, and the souls of King William (father), King William (brother) and Queen Maud (wife), and all my ancestors and successors." (Here’s hoping Patrick and I somehow make the list)

Red Light Means Beer

As we continued through the city centre, we came across something else we weren't used to seeing on our boating adventures. A traffic light. A red traffic light. The instructions told us to push a button and wait for the light to turn green — and warned that this could take up to 12 minutes.

Well, there was really only one sensible thing to do. Time for our first beer.

We sat in our tender, in the sunshine, beer in hand, waiting for our green light into the middle of Reading. This was turning into a very good day.

County Lock and Out of the City

Our next lock was County Lock — Lock No. 106 — a tiny old lock right in the centre of Reading.

Finally, our newly purchased lock key got some use. Once through County Lock, the scenery began changing surprisingly quickly. The busy centre of Reading disappeared behind us and we found ourselves travelling past beautiful houses and through increasingly wooded stretches of water. It was difficult to believe we had so recently been right in the middle of the town centre.

We continued through another two locks — Fobney Lock and Southcote Lock — putting our lock key, and our muscles, to good use. And then we spotted a pub. The Cunning Man. It took us a few seconds to realise why it looked so familiar. This was a pub we passed almost daily when driving to the shops or going to visit family. By road, with the traffic, it was about half an hour away.

The pub's name comes from a local legend of a 'cunning man' - a good wizard who would help to protect people from dark spirits and witches. By definition ‘a wizard’ is a person who is very skilled in a particular field or activity. It is still undecided whether Patrick or I hold the title after today with strange locks and unplanned passage.

But it had taken us three wonderfully leisurely hours to get here by boat and it was worth it.

It Would Have Been Rude Not To…

Naturally, we felt obliged to stop for a quick drink. It was also approaching our planned turnaround time, so the decision was made: The Cunning Man would be as far as we travelled that day.

There was something wonderfully satisfying about sitting there and realising how far we'd come — not in miles, perhaps, but in experience.

We'd travelled from our familiar stretch of the Thames, negotiated locks we'd never used before, taken “Petit Deux Poisson” right through the centre of Reading, explored little side canals fully of history and eventually arrived at a pub we'd driven past countless times.

Now all we had to do was get home again.

So we turned her around and began retracing our route — back through Southcote, Fobney, County and Blake's locks; back through the wooded stretches; back through Reading city centre; and eventually towards the Thames and Deux Poissons.

The journey home gave us another opportunity to see everything we'd discovered that morning, but from the opposite direction.

What a beautiful day.

And perhaps the best part was that this adventure had been sitting almost on our doorstep all along.

We had passed that entrance to the Kennet & Avon countless times aboard Deux Poissons, wondering what was beyond it. Now we knew.

“Petit Deux Poisson” may have started life with us simply as a tender, but days like this remind us that she gives us something else too: the freedom to explore where Deux Poissons can't go.

Making Every Inch Count – A Tiny Galley Storage Upgrade

Storage is always at a premium when you live in a small space. On a boat, finding a home for everything isn't just about being tidy — reducing clutter can make the whole space feel larger, calmer and more peaceful.

It also means we sometimes have to be a little inventive. The best storage spaces aren't always obvious, and occasionally a few centimetres of unused space can turn out to be surprisingly useful.

For quite some time, we had been using an old plant pot to hold our everyday utensils in the galley. In one sense, it worked perfectly well. Everything I used regularly was right there at hand and easy to grab. But in reality, it was also clutter. It took up valuable worktop space, looked untidy when it was full and, when we were underway, there was always the possibility of the whole thing toppling over.

Then we discovered a tiny unused space above the air fryer in the slide out drawer

It wasn't much, but it was just deep enough to make us wonder whether we could turn it into useful storage. A quick walk to a local store and we found a shallow plastic container that was almost right. Almost!

A little work with the multi-tool was needed to cut it down to exactly the right size so that it would slide neatly into the available space.

And it works like a charm.

The utensils we use every day are still close at hand, but they're now tucked away securely rather than sitting out on the counter-top. We've gained a little more worktop space, removed some visual clutter and made things more secure for when we're underway.

It's a tiny change, but that's often the way with living aboard. Good storage doesn't necessarily mean finding lots more space. Sometimes it's simply about looking differently at the space you already have.

A Weekend with the Thames Vintage Boat Club

There is something rather special about seeing a riverbank filled with gleaming varnish, polished metal work and beautifully cared-for vintage boats.

The Thames Vintage Boat Club was founded at Old Windsor in March 1983, with the aim of bringing together traditionally built craft, encouraging their restoration, maintenance and, importantly, their continued use. The Club also works to preserve the history of traditional boats on the Thames.

More than four decades later, it has around over 500 members and more than 250 boats — including some remarkable examples of Thames boatbuilding and restoration.

Deux Poissons and the TVBC

Patrick and I joined the Thames Vintage Boat Club in 2025, although, as we later discovered, Deux Poissons' association with the Club goes back much further.

When we bought her, there was already a TVBC badge aboard: Vintage Boat No. 87. We had always been curious about it, so when we began our journey up the Thames, we made some enquiries.

We discovered that Deux Poissons had joined the TVBC in 2006, when she was owned by Mike Phillips, a longstanding member of the TVBC committee.

Interestingly, Deux Poissons didn't actually meet the Club's usual inclusion criteria. However, the committee voted to accept her because of her appearance and exceptional lineage as a Royal Van Lent design. She was registered as NVIN 087 — the number she still carries aboard today.

That little plaque suddenly had rather more meaning.

We always enjoy a rally. They seem to involve spending about 50% of the time admiring everyone else's boats and appreciating just how much work goes into keeping them beautiful — and the other 50% sharing the horror stories about what it took to get them there!
This was also our first opportunity to properly meet many of the members of the Thames Vintage Boat Club, and from the moment we arrived we felt incredibly welcome. There was an almost immediate sense of belonging — perhaps that's what happens when you put a group of people together who share a love of old boats and an understanding of everything that comes with keeping them alive. Conversations were easy. There was always another boat to admire, a restoration to discuss, a problem someone else had encountered or a solution someone had discovered. And, of course, there were the shared traumatic experiences that seem to come as standard with owning a classic boat — the unexpected leaks, mechanical failures, seemingly straightforward jobs that become enormous ones, and the inevitable question: “How much did that cost?!”

This gathering was particularly special.
Twenty-two boats assembled along the Remenham bank in front of the Upper Thames Rowing Club, creating a wonderful line of varnish, paint, polished fittings and classic shapes.

When we're travelling up and down the Thames in Deux Poissons, it can sometimes feel as though boats like ours are becoming increasingly rare — survivors from another era on a river that has inevitably changed around them.

Then you arrive at a rally like this. Suddenly you're surrounded by them.

A Dora Blu, Silver Bird, New Venture, Miss Coquette, Deux Poissons, Sonbar, Lazy Days, Crest, Louis Phillipe, Nydia, Betsie-Jane, Lucy Ann, Lady Beatrice, Pourquoi Pas, Karinda, Little Ann II, L'Amour, Dabchick, L'Orage, Consuta, Seran and Margo II.

Among the gathering were also some of the Dunkirk Little Ships, bringing with them another extraordinary piece of British maritime history and valor.

It was a wonderful reminder that these classic boats haven't disappeared. There are still many of them out there, being used, maintained, restored and, above all, loved. Their owners aren't simply keeping old boats afloat. In their own small way, they're hanging on to history.

For the Commodore's drinks, boats were invited to dress overall, flying their signal flags from bow to stern. With the Remenham bank already packed with vintage boats, the flags added another splash of colour and made an impressive sight across the river. Saturday evening brought everyone together for a BBQ, followed on Sunday morning by breakfast rolls before lunch at the historic Leander Club.

As enjoyable as the food and socialising were, much of the pleasure came simply from wandering along the bank, looking at boats, talking to their owners and hearing their stories.
Every boat had one.
And, invariably, every restoration had several.

Perhaps that was the lasting impression we took away from the weekend. Deux Poissons may be unusual. Her history, her construction and her Royal Van Lent origins make her a little different from many of the traditional Thames craft around her. But this weekend she didn't feel unusual at all.
She was simply No. 87, sitting among a remarkable collection of old boats whose owners have made the same slightly irrational decision we have: to keep looking after them, fixing them, polishing them, spending money on them, occasionally despairing of them — and continuing to take them out onto the river.
And long may that continue.

The Union-Castle Connection

Sometimes the most interesting stories are the ones you discover completely by accident.

Back in 2022, while we were on holiday in Cape Town, I spent an afternoon browsing through a small thrift shop. At the time, Deux Poissons was in the final stages of her restoration and I was looking for something special to hang on the walls. I had collected a set of vintage brass frames and wanted some artwork that felt both nautical and authentic – something that suited a classic gentleman's cruiser rather than a modern boat.

After rummaging through boxes of old books, photographs and postcards, I came across a bundle of vintage Union-Castle Line postcards. The familiar ships immediately caught my eye. They seemed perfect for the boat, so I bought the collection without giving it much more thought.

It was only later, when I showed them to my parents, that the real story emerged.

Both of my parents were born in the United Kingdom and, as young children, travelled to South Africa aboard Union-Castle ships when their families emigrated to Cape Town. My father travelled on the Cape Town Castle, while my mother made the journey on the Pendennis Castle. Until that moment, I had never known this piece of family history.

When I showed Patrick my treasures he recalled that his father had also travelled on the Union-Castle Line, journeying on the Windsor Castle from Cape Town to study in Ireland as a young man.

What had started as a simple search for vintage artwork suddenly became something much more meaningful. The postcards were no longer just attractive nautical prints; they were part of our family's stories.

Today, six of those Union-Castle postcards hang on the “walls” of Deux Poissons. Visitors often comment on them, admiring the elegant liners, but for me they represent something deeper – a connection between generations, continents and journeys.

The story became even more interesting when I shared photographs of the postcards on social media. Friends began responding with stories of their own. Many had parents or grandparents who had travelled the same route between Britain and South Africa aboard Union-Castle ships. What I had assumed was a niche piece of family history turned out to be a shared experience for countless families.

Then, last year, another unexpected connection surfaced.

While visiting my parents, they were clearing out boxes of old belongings and childhood treasures. Among the items destined for sorting was a pack of playing cards that had belonged to me as a child. The card box still had my name scrawled across it in unmistakably youthful handwriting.

When I opened the pack, I was amazed to discover that these were Union-Castle ship playing cards, handed to guests who travelled on the ships. The backs of the cards also had a picture of the RMS Pretoria Castle. I like to believe that the very same cards were used by my grandparents and their friends while underway.

I had spent hours playing card games with that pack as a child without ever knowing the significance of the images. Yet there they were again, turning up decades later, just as the postcards had.

Those cards now live aboard Deux Poissons too, tucked away in the drawers beneath the framed postcards. Every now and then they emerge for a game of Rummy or another old favourite, continuing a connection that stretches from childhood memories to family history, from Britain to South Africa, and now to life aboard our boat.

It's funny how some stories find their way back to us. A handful of postcards in a Cape Town thrift shop led me to a pieces of family history I never knew existed, and reminded me that journeys leave traces in the most unexpected places.


A wheel worth waiting for

For so long, our to-do list has been nothing but essentials, so it feels especially satisfying to finally get round to a job that was not all that urgent, only unsightly. The steering wheel was one of those jobs. It still worked perfectly well, it got us to some beautiful places, so it was easy to leave for another day.

But now that we were having critical work done and we had nowhere to go for a while and no need to steer, the wheel came off for a full strip-down. Patrick removed all the pitted, tired chrome and sent it away for re-chroming. The wheel itself was sanded back and given several coats of varnish, which brought the timber back to life. With the wheel removed, I also took the opportunity to sand down the wooden panels behind it and give those a few coats of varnish too — one of those jobs you can never do properly unless you have complete access.

Now that it is back together, we can see just how much difference it has made. The wheel has real character again: the traditional ship’s-wheel shape, the turned wooden spokes, the handholds and the gleaming metal rim all stand out once more, while the polished centre catches the light beautifully. Instead of looking tired and simply functional, it has become the focal point of the helm.

When the chrome came back, the wheel was reassembled, and now we only wish we had done it earlier. Still, good things do come in their own time. As for that long list… tick.

A Journey we never Expected

Towards the end of last summer, while Deux Poissons was peacefully tied up on a mooring in Abingdon, we experienced something every boat owner dreads – another boat ran into us.

It wasn't just a gentle nudge. The impact was a significant bump, and our front port-side handrail suffered the worst of the damage, with one section breaking completely. Fortunately, the owner of the other boat was insured, and we were able to gather everything needed for the insurance companies to agree to the claim.

The timing, however, could not have been worse.

Winter was approaching, and we were preparing to leave for South Africa for six months. Deux Poissons was already booked to be lifted onto the hard at our home marina and stored under cover while we were away. Any repairs would have to wait until our return.

When we eventually arrived back in the UK and settled once again into life afloat, it was time to make arrangements for the repair work. The insurance company appointed a boatyard to carry out the repairs, and when it was agreed that it would be Dennett Boat Builders, we could hardly believe our luck.

For anyone who appreciates classic wooden boats, Dennett's needs little introduction. The yard is renowned for its craftsmanship and specialist restoration work, including projects on the famous Little Ships of Dunkirk.

Years ago, when Patrick and I were planning the restoration of Deux Poissons, Dennett's was one of the boatyards we dreamed of using. We spent countless hours admiring the photographs in their gallery and following their work on social media. We spoke to other boat owners who had work done on their boats and heard nothing but praise.

At the time, however, it simply wasn't within our budget. With so much work needing to be done, we had to make difficult choices about where we could spend our savings.

Over the years, as we travelled on the Thames, we passed the boatyard several times. Each time, one of us would look across and say, "Imagine if..."

Now, incredibly, we were on our way there.

We chose the Bank Holiday weekend for the journey and planned four leisurely days to make our way down to Chertsey. As luck would have it, the UK was enjoying one of its rare spring heatwaves. The river and locks were predicted to be busy for a change, the skies were blue and the beers cold. It was going to be the perfect trip.

What had started as an unfortunate accident was beginning to feel like an unexpected opportunity. Sometimes life has a way of taking you somewhere you had only ever imagined, even if the route there is not quite the one you would have chosen.

And for us, that destination was Dennett's Boat Builders….


FRIDAY

So we set off late on Friday afternoon with full tanks of water and fuel, plenty of provisions on board, and enough food for several days. Our plan for the first leg was an easy, gentle one in the late sunshine and overnight at Sonning. We only had a single lock to negotiate — Caversham Lock.

Mentioned in the Domesday Book of 1086, Caversham was once known for the medieval Shrine of Our Lady, an important pilgrimage destination. It is a place steeped in history.

We have our own Caversham "Doomsday" story.

It was here, in May 2025, that our engine spluttered, coughed, bellowed out clouds of smoke and finally died. In that moment, all our plans to cruise to France came to an abrupt end. We had spent months preparing. We had finally received our long-stay French visas, packed the boat, studied guidebooks, and said our goodbyes to friends and family. We thought we were ready. Until we weren't.

Like many towns and villages along the Thames, Caversham has a fascinating river history. Records of river crossings and flash weirs date back to the 1400s. The original pound lock was constructed in 1778, while the current structure was rebuilt in 1875.
In 1960 - the same year Deux Poissons was “born” - Caversham Lock became the first lock on the River Thames to be fitted with a hydraulic gate operating system. Ironically, it was the one lock we never managed to pass through to start our French adventure.

This time, however, we were greeted by friendly lock keepers who opened the gates and waved us through. Deux slipped quietly into the lock, running smoothly and, most importantly, smoke free.

Less than three hours later we were tied up at Sonning, enjoying a beautiful summer evening. With a chilled glass of wine in hand, we chatted with neighbouring boaters and new friends who we met on the mooring, as the sun slowly disappeared behind the trees.

Saturday

We were up early the following morning and set off towards Cookham Village.

The river and locks were busier than we had experienced so far, and with it being a Bank Holiday weekend and temperatures forecast to exceed 25°C, we knew things would only become more crowded.

Our aim was to moor at a spot on the Cookham Village bank, one that we had used before, with easy cycling access into the village and its welcoming pubs. Before we could think about that, however, we had six locks to negotiate.

Each lock can take up to twenty minutes to pass through, sometimes longer if there are boats waiting from the opposite direction or if the lock has to be emptied and refilled before your turn. The upside is that there is rarely any rush. We spend the waiting time chatting to fellow boaters, many of whom we have already met at previous locks. Friendships often begin while waiting for lock gates to open.

If conversation runs dry, there is always a game of Rummikub, a few chapters of a book, or simply sitting back and enjoying life on the river and wondering if the building I am looking at is a house or a hotel. I often cant tell!!

The downside is that there are no guarantees when it comes to moorings. Most cannot be booked in advance, so you simply hope there will be space when you arrive. If there isn't, the backup plan springs into action — a quick check of the River Thames Guide app, combined with a careful eye on the riverbank for any suitable alternatives.

As expected, Cookham's popular moorings were packed, with boats rafted two and three deep. Fortunately, we found a quiet stretch of bank a little further along. We grabbed it immediately, hammered in our mooring spikes, and settled in for the evening.

Although it meant a slightly longer cycle into the village, the space was beautiful and peaceful. Later that evening we lit the barbecue and enjoyed steak and salad while the sun set, sipping on a glass of red wine

It is said that Kenneth Grahame, author of The Wind in the Willows, spent his childhood in the Cookham area and drew inspiration from these parts of of the Thames. Looking around us that evening, it was very easy to believe.

SUNDAY

We left our Cookham mooring before 9am, hoping to secure a space in Windsor for the night, before the crowds arrived.

By now the river was extremely busy, and finding a mooring was becoming increasingly difficult.

Although we only had four locks to pass through that day, they were among the busiest we had encountered. Several large wide-beam boats were travelling the same route, making lock manoeuvres particularly interesting.

The lock keepers are incredibly experienced and somehow manage to fit what appears to be an impossible number of boats into each lock. Even so, there were moments when I held my breath as we were waved inside. With our steel hull, I was less concerned about Deux Poissons than some of the fibreglass cruisers surrounding us as the water surged and swirled around the lock.

Patrick always has the final say on these things, and I trust that he will choose to wait for the next available slot rather thank risk a crush, but thankfully everything went smoothly.

We did spend quite some time waiting at one lock, but I won a game of Rummikub while we waited, so I considered the delay a complete success.

By setting off early, we managed to stay ahead of much of the Bank Holiday “traffic” and secured what looked like one of the last available spaces on Bath Island. With the boat safely tied up, we spent the afternoon enjoying the sunshine, reading, and cycling into Windsor.

That evening we stumbled across a wonderful Moroccan restaurant and enjoyed delicious food, warm hospitality, and the pleasure of dining al fresco on a perfect summer evening.

MONDAY

After a leisurely start to the morning and yet another glorious day on the water, we made our way through four more locks before arriving at Dennett Boat Builders.

Although it was a Bank Holiday, there were still several craftsmen working around the yard. From the moment we arrived, everyone was welcoming and accommodating. They helped us tie up, connected us to shore power, and then left us free to wander around and explore.

It felt slightly surreal to finally be there.

When we first bought Deux Poissons and began planning her restoration, we quickly realised that we would need the skills of experienced shipwrights and traditional boat builders. Time and time again, whether through online research, recommendations from other owners, or conversations on in our boat yard, one name kept coming up: Dennett Boat Builders.

Established in 1962, the family-run business has built a reputation for preserving traditional boatbuilding and joinery skills, restoring and maintaining some of the finest classic wooden boats on the Thames.

Unfortunately, at the time it was just something we could not manage. So for us, this was the boatyard that always sat firmly on our bucket list.

Over the years, while cruising the Thames, we had passed the yard several times. Every time we went by, one of us would inevitably say, "Wouldn't it be wonderful if one day..."

Now, quite unexpectedly, that day had arrived.

The circumstances that brought us here were certainly not the ones we would have chosen. An insurance claim following a collision was hardly the route we had imagined. Yet as we stood in the yard looking around at the craftsmanship, the beautifully restored boats and the skilled team at work, it was impossible not to feel grateful.

There is something rather special about watching people who genuinely love what they do. Everywhere we looked there were examples of traditional skills being practised with care, patience and pride. Wood that looked beyond saving was being transformed into something beautiful. Boats that had seen decades of service were being given a new lease of life.

For owners of classic boats, it is reassuring to know that places like this still exist.

As we settled Deux Poissons into her temporary home and reflected on the journey from the collision in Abingdon last year to Chertsey, even our false start to France in 2025, it struck us how often boating adventures take unexpected turns. What had started with an unfortunate collision had become a memorable four-day cruise through some of the loveliest stretches of the Thames, in the beautiful English summer, ending at a boatyard we had admired for years.

Not quite the journey we had planned, perhaps — but one we will remember for a very long time.

Otters, Owls and Old Post Offices

We woke up late and took our time easing our slightly broken bodies out of bed. It was probably a sign that we either needed to improve our fitness levels or choose smaller hills to cycle up. Still, nothing a good cup of tea and some toast couldn't fix.

After breakfast, we took a gentle stroll to the station to collect our family guests. The early afternoon was spent showing off Goring, followed by a delicious pub lunch before it was time to cast off and head towards Wallingford.

The journey was an easy one. We only had to negotiate two locks – Cleeve and Benson – giving our guests a gentle introduction to lock duty, with the promise of four locks waiting for them on the return trip on Monday. They also got their first taste of life at river pace, gliding through the countryside at four knots (about 4.6 mph / 7.4 km/h), with plenty of time to admire the scenery.

Shortly after Cleeve Lock, we passed a stretch of bank where we had moored overnight with friends last summer. It remains one of our favourite spots on the Thames. We shared stories of otters swimming around the boat at dusk and a magnificent barn owl silently hunting across the meadow as darkness fell. We promised ourselves we would return one day, hoping to witness the same magic again. And if not, simply to enjoy the peace, a beautiful sunset and a sundowner or two on the foredeck.

These are the moments we treasure most about boat life. They more than compensate for the less glamorous realities of boat ownership – varnishing, bilge cleaning, laundry, sanding, de-cluttering and, of course, more varnishing.

In less than three hours, we arrived in Wallingford and secured a mooring right in the town centre. Once settled, we set off to explore.

Like many towns along the Thames, Wallingford has a rich and fascinating history. Following William the Conqueror's victory in 1066, Wallingford Castle became one of the most important strongholds in England. The town flourished throughout the Middle Ages and later played an important role in ending the civil war, known as The Anarchy when the Treaty of Wallingford was signed there in 1153.

The centuries that followed were less kind. The Black Death reduced the population, and the town gradually fell from royal favour. However, Wallingford found itself at the centre of events once more during the English Civil War, becoming the last Royalist stronghold in Berkshire. After a sixteen-week siege, the town finally surrendered, and Oliver Cromwell ordered Wallingford Castle to be destroyed to prevent it being used in any future uprising.

Today, Wallingford is a thriving market town, full of independent shops, cafés and narrow side streets waiting to be explored (not by bicycle today). It also appears to have a remarkably busy Post Office. At least, that's what we thought until we discovered that most of the activity was centred around pints rather than parcels.

The Old Post Office, located just off the Market Square, occupies a Grade II listed building that once served as the town's main Crown Post Office. Following its closure in the late 1990s, it was transformed into a bar and restaurant. Many of the original features remain, including the Victorian counter, while a traditional red post box still stands proudly in the courtyard outside. Needless to say, it quickly earned a place on our Wallingford itinerary.

The evening passed pleasantly, catching up on family news, sharing stories and enjoying a delicious dinner and few drinks before retiring to Deux Poissons for the night.

Tomorrow, we turn downstream and begin our leisurely journey back towards Reading.


Through the Goring Gap

With a sunny and dry May Bank Holiday weekend forecast, we knew we had to make the most of it. Living in the UK has taught us that good weather is never to be taken for granted. To make the weekend even better, family were joining us for an overnight stay on Saturday, wherever we happened to end up. After a little discussion, we settled on Goring-on-Thames for Saturday night and Wallingford-on-Thames for Sunday, before returning to Reading on the Monday morning.

Goring is one of our favourite stretches of the Thames. Not only is it surrounded by beautiful countryside, but it is also steeped in history. Thousands of years ago, at the end of the last Ice Age, meltwater forced the River Thames through the chalk hills here, carving out what is now known as the Goring Gap. This dramatic landscape changed the course of the river, directing it through Berkshire and onwards towards London.

Today, the Berkshire Downs rise to the south while the Chiltern Hills stand to the north, creating a spectacular natural gateway through which the Thames flows. It is definitely an area of natural beauty and stunning to view from the deck of the boat when underway.

On either side of the river sit the twin villages of Goring and Streatley, linked by a bridge.

We always enjoy spending time here. There are quiet lanes to cycle, fascinating old houses to admire and beautiful churches tucked away. There are a few excellent pubs (four if I remember correctly) and these we appreciate even more after a day exploring on two wheels.

This weekend we decided to put our fitness to the test by cycling up the side of the Gap above Streatley. To be completely honest, "cycling" may be stretching the truth slightly. Much of it involved pushing our bikes up the steep chalk hillside while questioning our life choices. The climb was hard work, but as often happens, the reward was waiting at the top. The views across the Thames Valley, the Chilterns and the Berkshire Downs were simply breathtaking and more than justified the effort.

After a hair-rising speedy cycle back down the hillside, we returned to the boat and enjoying a well-earned shower and a short rest, dozing in the sunshine and reading. Word must have got around that we carry duck and swan food on board because before long we had two sweet little duck visitors venturing on to the deck of the boat. They became increasingly brave, getting ever closer in search of a snack.

That evening, we cycled back into Goring and popped into one of our favourite pubs for a delicious pizza and a well-earned drink. Afterwards, it was back to our floating home for a quick backgammon challenge before turning in for a very early night.

Family will be joining us in the morning as we continue upstream, through the Goring Gap and onto Wallingford. We are looking forward to sharing one of our favourite stretches of the Thames and enjoying the journey through the eyes of others.

Tonight, however, the combination of sunshine, fresh air and a long day outdoors has caught up with me. My eyes are ready to close.

She survived the winter!

We’re back from our annual “winter escape” — six glorious months in South Africa. We know how lucky we are to swap the UK’s long, cold, soggy winter for Cape Town sunshine, beaches, Don Pedros (a popular South African alcoholic milkshake) and proper summer living. Even better, we still have family and long-time friends there, so it’s not just an escape — it’s a reset. And thanks to remote working, we can just about pretend this is all perfectly normal behaviour!!

Of course, leaving the boat behind for half a year in unpredictable British winter weather is never completely stress-free. Our strategy is simple: do absolutely everything we can… and then cross our fingers.

Preparing the boat for winter is not a quick job. It’s a full three-day operation. If it can be moved, it gets vacuum-packed. Curtains come down, cushion covers come off, mattress covers disappear, and every bit of linen and clothing gets washed and dried. Even the books aren’t spared — they go into vacuum bags too. Moisture traps are tucked into lockers everywhere, and we leave the dehumidifier ready to run once a week for a few hours. By the end of it, the boat looks like she’s preparing for a very organised expedition to the moon.

She’s stored safely on the hard under a full canvas cover, and for the past two years we’ve trusted Reading Marine Services to take care of her while we’re away. They lift her out, winterise everything properly (including treating the water tanks, checking batteries and running the dehumidifier), and then reverse the whole process before we return — putting her back in the water, replacing the drinking water, and making sure the engine and generator are ready to go. It’s a huge reassurance while we’re thousands of miles away enjoying sunshine.

So when we get back, our job is simply to unpack the vacuum bags, rediscover the many moisture traps I somehow miss every year (they continue appearing for weeks), and settle back into boat life again.

I always find the winterising process long and slightly tedious, and I’m often tempted to skip the trickier jobs — especially taking down the curtains. But every time we return and hear just how wet and damp the UK winter has been, I’m very glad we made the effort. Once again: no mould, dry wood, and a fresh-smelling boat waiting patiently for us.

Now we’re ready for summer on the river again — and we can’t wait …..

what is a Don Pedro? Click here ...

Just one more small job .....

Boat jobs are never done….

We cleaned up and locked the boat down for the 6 months of winter. We are all packed up and ready to leave for a 12 hour flight to Cape Town, South Africa. I turned my back for a few minutes. Patrick decided he had just ONE more small job ……
It’s going to be beautiful when it’s all done, but did it really have to happen as we were about to leave??