An Old Girl Goes to London

Classic boats, traditional pubs, mysterious bones and a very special surprise at St Katharine Docks.

September saw us setting off down the Thames once again, this time heading for St Katharine Docks in London and the Classic Boat Festival. It would be our second time attending the festival aboard Deux Poissons, and we were really looking forward to returning.

But, as always, getting there was going to be part of the fun. We'd allowed ourselves plenty of time for the journey, with no need to rush past all those lovely places along the river. After all, one of the joys of having a boat is being able to take your home with you, stopping wherever takes your fancy.

Old Haunts and Happy Memories

As we travelled downriver, we passed Shiplake Lock, which brought back memories of a glorious afternoon we'd spent there earlier in the summer. We'd tucked ourselves away behind the lock, anchored just in front of the weir, and settled down to do absolutely nothing. The big umbrella went up, cushions came out, and with backgammon, books and the birds to entertain us, we spent a wonderfully lazy afternoon reading, playing games and occasionally dozing in the sunshine.

It was absolute bliss. We'll certainly be back next summer, even if it's only for another few hours of doing absolutely nothing.

On Tuesday 1 September, we arrived in Henley-on-Thames. Henley is one of those places we never tire of visiting. We've moored there many times over the years, often in slightly different spots along the same stretch of riverbank, and it always brings back happy memories. We stayed Tuesday and Wednesday, enjoying walks into town and the quieter atmosphere now that the summer holidays were coming to an end.

Thursday took us to Windsor, where we decided to revisit a couple of pubs we'd spotted on a side road during a cycling trip on a previous visit. We love finding proper old English pubs. Not necessarily the polished, chain-run establishments where every menu looks suspiciously familiar, but those wonderful local places with a bit of character.

Our first stop wasn't quite what we'd hoped for. It felt rather more like a chain pub than the traditional watering hole we'd imagined, but we were thirsty, the garden was pleasant and the drinks were cold, so we weren't complaining too much!

Then we moved on to the Bexley Arms. Now this was more like it!

Behind the bar was the landlady, who seemed to know everyone coming through the door. Local builders, plumbers and other tradespeople were arriving after work, greeting one another and settling in for a drink. Having spent plenty of time in London pubs after work during our careers, particularly around the financial district, it was lovely to experience something quite different. Here was a real sense of community.

The landlady somehow managed to serve everyone at the bar, take our food order, bring our meals to the table and still find time to chat. The food was home-cooked, served on well-used plates with mismatched cutlery, and absolutely delicious. By the time we left, she even remembered our names! It was exactly the sort of pub we'd been hoping to find.

Continuing downriver, we passed through Maidenhead and Boulters Lock, with its interesting old stonework and reminders of the Thames' long history.

Some locks we had entirely to ourselves. At others, we found ourselves sharing the chamber with boats so enormous that Deux Poissons looked positively tiny.

We eventually reached Staines, where we spent the night enjoying another lovely sunset. The days were noticeably getting shorter now. Summer was beginning to slip away, although fortunately the weather hadn't entirely given up on us. We also had friends joining us for the final leg of the journey into London.

An Unexpected Flotilla

At Sunbury Lock, the next day, we found ourselves in the company of several beautiful classic boats, including some of the famous Dunkirk Little Ships. Among the people we met was the owner of Dennett's Boatyard, who had previously repaired Deux Poissons' handrail. It was lovely to catch up and admire the boats, many of which were also heading for the Classic Boat Festival.

Our original plan had been to stop overnight at Teddington before continuing into London and arrive there on Sunday morning. But as we chatted with the other owners, we discovered they were all planning to head straight to St Katharine Docks that day. The tides were right and a quick call to St Katherine Docks confirmed a space in the lock - well, it seemed a shame to miss the opportunity!

So we changed our plans and said we would join them. Just one quick stop... a little preventative maintenance. It had been a while since we'd changed the fuel filters, and we'd filled up with diesel several times since. Although we always treat our fuel, Patrick wanted to be absolutely sure we weren't risking blocked filters or fuel starvation on the busy tidal Thames. So out came the tools, and we changed the filters.
And thank goodness we did! They were filthy. It's one of those jobs that's easy to postpone, especially when you're enjoying the journey, but we were very glad we'd taken the time. Losing engine power among the commercial traffic on the tidal Thames was an adventure we had absolutely no desire to experience! Just another little reminder that boating isn't always about beautiful scenery and leisurely afternoons. Sometimes it's about changing fuel filters with Hampton Court Palace as your backdrop !

And then we were off, a leisurely journey into London became an impromptu flotilla of beautiful old boats. What a sight!

One of the more entertaining moments of the journey came at Richmond. For anyone unfamiliar with this stretch of the Thames, Richmond has a tidal half-lock, and passing through it can involve paying a charge.

Nothing particularly unusual about that. Except for the method of payment! As the water level dropped, the lock keeper lowered a fishing net containing a card machine down towards us. Patrick retrieved the machine, tapped our card and placed it back into the net to be hauled up again.

Modern technology meets traditional boating!

With that little transaction completed, we continued down the tidal Thames towards central London.

And what a journey it was. Passing the familiar London landmarks from the water is always special. Buildings we'd seen countless times from roads, trains or pavements suddenly looked completely different. Then came Tower Bridge, and before long we were making our way into St Katharine Docks.

We'd arrived!

Back at St Kats

We were a day earlier than originally planned, which meant we had some extra time to explore London with our friends.

First, though, we had to get ourselves settled. Arriving somewhere by boat involves rather more than simply parking and getting out! There are ropes to secure, mooring arrangements and paperwork to sort out, and then the small matter of putting our home back together.

Travelling on the non-tidal Thames is one thing. Travelling on the tidal Thames is quite another. Having spent years boating on the Solent, we were back in familiar territory. Everything that can move, slide, fall over or break needs to be securely stowed away. The kitchen sink becomes a temporary storage facility for anything that might otherwise go flying. The lounge table has to lie flat, and lockers are packed with all the bits and pieces that normally make Deux Poissons feel like home. It doesn't take particularly long to prepare her for the journey. Putting everything back afterwards is another matter entirely!

By the time we'd tied up, completed the formalities and restored the boat to something resembling normality, it was getting late. None of us had the slightest inclination to cook. Fortunately, we remembered a pizza restaurant we'd enjoyed on our previous visit. And happily, our memories hadn't exaggerated how good the pizzas were!

We were starving, the food was delicious and the wine went down a treat. Then it was back aboard and an early night.

The following morning, we made full use of the marina's shower facilities. And what a luxury! Endless hot water. No worrying about how much was left in the tank. No switching the shower off while soaping up, then switching it back on to rinse. Just standing under lovely hot running water for as long as we wanted.

It's the little things!

Feeling thoroughly refreshed, the four of us set off to explore a little of London. We wandered around the Tower of London, chatting as we went, before noticing that the tide was out and one of the little Thames beaches was exposed. Naturally, we went down to investigate. We picked up stones and various interesting bits and pieces, including several objects that looked suspiciously like bones.

Well, that got our imaginations going! What were they? How long had they been in the river? And, more importantly, who or what had they belonged to? Before long, we were discussing centuries-old stories of people falling into the Thames, prisoners meeting unfortunate ends and all sorts of other rather gruesome possibilities.

Eventually, we settled on a slightly less dramatic explanation. Perhaps a butcher had simply disposed of some unwanted animal remains, probably pig. Still gruesome, but considerably less exciting!

By now the sun had made an appearance and it was becoming rather warm, so we decided refreshments were in order. Naturally, that meant ice-cold beer. And when we spotted a Sunday roast on offer, well, it would have been rude not to! Suitably fed and watered, we made our way back to Deux Poissons for a lazy afternoon in the marina.

The men talked boats, my friend settled down with her book, and I dozed in the sunshine. It was rather surreal. There we were, stretched out in the warmth, enjoying the peace and quiet aboard our little floating home, almost forgetting that we were right in the centre of London. Only a week earlier, we'd been tied up against a peaceful riverbank.

That's one of the things I love most about boating. The scenery changes, but home comes with us.

Getting Ready for the Show

Monday morning arrived and it was time to say goodbye to our friends, who headed home while Patrick and I returned to the rather less exciting business of work. Unfortunately, even when your home is moored in the middle of London, real life doesn't disappear entirely!

But with the festival still several days away, we had plenty of opportunities to enjoy the marina, watch the other classic boats arrive and get Deux Poissons looking her best.

.Before we knew it, the weekend was upon us. We'd spent the preceding days polishing chrome, cleaning windows, washing decks and casting suspicious glances at every threatening rain cloud. There's nothing quite like polishing a boat in preparation for a show to make you suddenly very interested in the weather forecast! Fortunately, the rain stayed away.

The weekend was warm and clear, and the marina soon filled with visitors. As one of the participating show boats, we have the option of welcoming people aboard. And we absolutely love doing that. People are fascinated by what it might be like to live on a boat, particularly one as old as Deux Poissons. They want to know how we manage everyday life, where we've travelled, what it's like spending so much time afloat and how we turned a rather tired old boat into our comfortable home.

They're especially interested in her restoration. We have plenty of before-and-after photographs to show them, and our website tells much of the story, but we prefer to make people feel at home. We invite them to sit down, get comfortable and have a chat. And before long, we're sharing little snippets of our lives, stories of our adventures and the work that has gone into keeping this beautiful old girl afloat.

After all, Deux Poissons isn't simply a classic boat on display. She's our home.

A Very Special Surprise

And just when we thought the weekend couldn't get any better, we had a rather wonderful surprise. The secretary of the Thames Vintage Boat Club, accompanied by two other members, popped their heads into Deux Poissons to see if we were around. Deux Poissons has a long association with the club, registered as member number 087. Her previous owner had been a member for many years, and several longstanding members remembered her well. They'd been delighted when Patrick and I joined the club and brought her back into the fold. They also remembered her as an increasingly tired old lady, so they'd taken a particular interest in her restoration.

What we hadn't realised was quite how impressed they were! At the club's previous AGM, which we'd unfortunately missed because we were away, Deux Poissons had been awarded the John Mauger Trophy for Amateur Restoration 2025.

And there, at the Classic Boat Festival in St Katharine Docks, we were finally presented with our award. We were absolutely thrilled, and genuinely humbled.

The Thames Vintage Boat Club has so many beautiful boats among its members, many lovingly maintained and restored by their owners. Having spent years working on Deux Poissons ourselves, we have some understanding of just how much that takes.
And not only financially. There's the time, the determination and, perhaps most importantly, the motivation to keep going when the results seem painfully slow.

Restoring an old boat is rarely a matter of starting one project, finishing it and moving neatly on to the next. There's often more than one thing happening at once. Electrics alongside varnishing. The shower room while sections of the galley are being rebuilt. One job uncovering another, and another, until you begin to wonder whether you'll ever reach the end. Even now, there's always something else to do!

And when you're living among all those unfinished jobs, it's sometimes difficult to stand back and see just how far you've come. You can't see the wood for the trees, as the saying goes. So having someone else look at Deux Poissons as a whole, rather than as a collection of ongoing projects, and recognise the transformation with an award was incredibly special. It reminded us just how much we'd actually achieved.

And to think that most of it had been done by the two of us, whose professional backgrounds were in IT and psychology! Hardly the most obvious qualifications for restoring a vintage motor boat!

Needless to say, we celebrated. And we felt rather proud of our beautiful old girl.

Homeward Bound

Monday morning seemed to arrive far too quickly. The festival was over, the visitors had gone, and the colourful dress flags that had decorated the boats all weekend were coming down. The marina was slowly returning to normal as the participating boats prepared to leave.

We joined the first group heading through the lock out of St Katharine Docks, once again finding ourselves in the company of other beautiful old boats as we made our way home. As we continued upriver, we travelled alongside several of our fellow classic boat owners.

The journey upriver was a little more hurried than our leisurely trip down to London. With the Thames locks closing at 6 pm, we were conscious of the time. Fortunately, Teddington stayed open for us, and we managed to get through Shepperton too. But Sunbury was just a lock too far!

By the time we arrived, the locks had closed for the evening, so we tied up at the lock lay-by alongside several of the other classic boats, all waiting for the locks to reopen the following morning. It was quite a sight. A beautiful row of old boats moored together, their crews exhausted after a long day's travelling and mostly hidden away below decks.

The following morning, we continued our journey upriver. One by one, the other boats peeled away towards their own home moorings, with waves and promises that we'd see one another again next year.

Eventually, Deux Poissons was the last of the group still heading upriver. Our home mooring was considerably farther away than most of theirs, so we had plenty of time to chat about everything we'd seen and all the ideas we'd picked up from other boat owners. Because, as anyone who owns an old boat will tell you, there's always another project waiting!

But after a week like that, we couldn't help feeling rather proud of our old girl. Built in 1959, still travelling, still turning heads and now with an award to add to her story.

Not bad for a lady of 67!

Three Days, Two Pubs and No Decanter Stopper

Our mooring is quiet, with lovely peaceful views from the windows. However, once a year, over the August Bank Holiday weekend, the fields and farms around us are transformed for a three- or four-day music festival. I am sure that years ago, when Patrick and I were young and up for a weekend of music, rain, mud and tents, we would simply have joined in. But the years have caught up with us, and the only "roughing it" we do now is skipping the occasional shower because the water tanks are getting low, the next refill is a few locks away and obviously, we're reserving the water for the dishwasher and the ice maker.

So, with the festival set up and thousands of late teens and twenty-somethings beginning to arrive, we packed up and decided to go away for the weekend.

We needed fuel first, which meant a quick trip downriver through one lock before turning around and heading back upstream. Our plan was Goring-on-Thames for Saturday night, Wallingford for Sunday night, then home on Monday — by which time we hoped the festival would be packing up too.

Saturday — Reading to Goring

We left early Saturday morning and headed downriver for a quick fuel top-up. Once this weekend was over, we would be heading down to London for a boat show, and our route meant we'd be passing the very few fuel berths available to us outside their operating hours.

So fuel now it was.

Once we'd made a considerable dent in our wallets, we turned Deux Poissons around and headed upriver, through Mapledurham and Whitchurch locks, towards Goring-on-Thames. We reached Goring around lunchtime and found a mooring surprisingly quickly. It was one of those little signs that summer was beginning to draw to a close: fewer hire boats on the river and more space available at the moorings. Hire boaters tend to leave a generous amount of space between themselves and the next boat. I expect it takes experience — and really knowing your own boat — to become brave enough to squeeze into some of the tiny spaces Patrick manages to fit Deux Poissons into.

Last time we were in Goring, we'd discovered a little second-hand/antique shop with a collection of decanters and, more importantly, a box full of glass and crystal decanter stoppers. This mattered because one of the ship's decanters on Deux Poissons has had a broken stopper for some time, and we keep meaning to find a replacement. Now seemed like the perfect opportunity.

Conveniently, the shop is directly opposite one of our favourite pubs — which is how we discovered it in the first place — so it seemed only right to repeat the process: Pub + beer + antique shopping.

We have two matching decanters, so this time we took the intact stopper from the other one with us as a guide. And we stuck to the programme. After a delicious cold beer and a good rummage through the shop, we found what we hoped was a suitable replacement.

Back at the boat, however, the taper fitted perfectly but the top was simply too small. It looked wrong. Never mind. The search would continue — AND we had developed what we thought was a fool-proof stopper-finding process.

As it was still early and we could hear live music somewhere nearby, we wandered along the towpath to investigate. The music was coming from the riverbank, so we stood on the bridge for a while listening, enjoying one of those brief breaks in the weather with the sun on our backs. Then it was back to Deux Poissons for dinner, cards and an early-ish night.

We both commented on how much earlier it was getting dark now. It was still beautifully warm, but there were little reminders everywhere that summer was beginning to slip away.

Sunday — Goring to Wallingford

The next morning started as most good mornings on the boat do: coffee and croissants.

Then we were off to Wallingford. With decanter stoppers apparently now the main focus of the entire expedition. One of the useful things about travelling is that the engine heats our water very quickly, so once we'd passed through Cleeve Lock, we took turns having a shower while underway. There's a lovely long stretch between Cleeve and Wallingford, so there was plenty of time and I love showering underway with the river running next to the window and the view out across the water and all the greenery.

Clean, dressed and onto our second cups of coffee, we settled into one of our favourite Thames travelling games: House or Hotel?. There are so many enormous riverside houses along this stretch — rambling buildings with numerous chimneys, boathouses, sweeping lawns and gardens stretching right down to the water. House or hotel? Sometimes it's surprisingly difficult to tell.

We reached Wallingford just as the rain started. Another reminder, sadly, that summer really was coming to an end. After straightening up the boat — it always seems to become mysteriously cluttered and messy while we're travelling — we set off to execute the Wallingford plan.

Which, unsurprisingly, was remarkably similar to the Goring plan: Pub. Then antique shops.

This time we decided we needed a better system. Rather than buying another stopper and hoping for the best, we'd identify every possible candidate, have the shops put them aside, then return with the actual decanter.

One pub and three shops later — and with closing time rapidly approaching, because it's astonishing how much time can disappear while rummaging through old things — I thought I'd found not only the right stopper, but something else for the boat.

A box for our keys. We have a little shelf where all the keys tend to get dumped: two separate keys for the two sliding doors, keys for the storage boxes, bike-lock keys and another set for the car. They all live together in an untidy pile.

And there it was: an old WWI cigarette box with an emblem on the lid and probably a fascinating story. From the dimensions, it looked as though it would be perfect. But we'd need the keys to check. And the decanter to check the stopper. The shop owner was happy to put both aside for us, so we headed back to the boat with plans to return in the morning, bringing with us our rather unusual shopping equipment: a pile of keys and a ship's decanter.

In the meantime, dinner on board and an evening of reading and chatting before another early night.

Monday — The Great Stopper Test

The next morning, armed with keys and decanter, we headed back into town to test our possible finds.
The stopper didn't fit. Again. This time the top part looked perfect, but the taper was just a little too wide, meaning it sat too high in the neck of the decanter and would be vulnerable to being knocked and broken.

So, reluctantly, we had to say no to that. The box, however, was perfect.

Then, just as we were about to leave, something else caught my eye. A pewter wine goblet.

Until that exact moment, I had absolutely no idea that I needed a pewter wine goblet. Then I picked it up. Apparently, I did. And unlike the decanter stopper, I didn't even need to bring a bottle of wine along to test it.

On the way back to the boat, we stopped at the supermarket for cold meats, cheese and fresh bread rolls for lunch. We relaxed aboard for another couple of hours before reluctantly saying goodbye to Wallingford and starting the journey back downriver towards Reading.

There was no rush.

We enjoyed the journey home just as much as the journey up: the beautiful houses and boathouses sliding past, the locks, the trees and the familiar bends in the Thames.

Along the way we spotted several wartime pillboxes on the riverbank and found ourselves talking about what it must have been like to sit inside one of those concrete shelters, watching and protecting this same stretch of river during the war.

And somewhere amongst all of that, it occurred to me that we now had a WWI cigarette box travelling down the Thames with us. I wondered about the person who had once owned it. Where had it been? What had it seen? Had someone once carried it during the war? And now, more than a century later, it was aboard a 1959 Dutch motor yacht, heading down the Thames to spend its next chapter holding our boat keys.

We stopped at Mapledurham Lock for lunch before the final stretch home and were back on our mooring by about 4pm. The festival was almost over.

Deux Poissons was plugged back into shore power, the water tanks could be filled, the dishwasher could once again operate without rationing... …and our decanter still didn't have a stopper.

It was another lovely few days on the Thames. And I suspect the search for that stopper has now become an adventure of its own.

We only meant to go for one night

After a fifth or sixth week of temperatures above 25 degrees into mid 30 degrees, Patrick and I decided that we simply weren't going to make it through another Friday of work on the boat.

A few evenings earlier, we had explored a little way upriver and discovered a space where we could tie up beside the weir at Mapledurham Lock. It was quiet, shady and, most importantly, only about ten minutes away. So we grabbed a few provisions, made sure the batteries were charged, packed up our work things and moved upriver. We weren't sure whether we would stay the night, but took some BBQ supplies — steak, salad and beer — just in case. It was a ten-minute journey, but it felt as though we had moved countries.

As the working day ended and the weekend crept closer, the decision was made. Light the BBQ (very carefully — we were acutely aware of the fire risk after weeks of hot, dry weather), crack open one or more of those beers, cook the steaks and see who would win at cards. Plot twist: it wasn't me.

The 2–0 Vote

We woke early the following morning and held a quick "team meeting" about our plans for the weekend. We have a boat show coming up in London in about three weeks and a fairly substantial to-do list before then, including painting the decks and touching up some wear and tear on the hull.

Our dilemma was that the weather was perfect for painting. It was also perfect for travelling.

We took a vote.

Travel: 2. Painting: 0.

A unanimous decision.

The rough plan became Mapledurham – Sonning – Henley-on-Thames – and back again. Anything in between was fair game. We needed a few more provisions, but there was a supermarket on the way down to Sonning, we had fuel, and there seemed to be absolutely no sensible reason not to keep going.

Sonning

We arrived at Sonning around midday to discover that all the moorings were taken. Apparently everyone else had looked at the weather forecast and reached much the same conclusion as us.

The difference between Deux Poissons and many of the other boats is that she has (a) a steel hull and (b) fairly fearless owners. So we found a suitable stretch of bank alongside a wall of bushes, jumped ashore, cut our way through a few brambles and hammered in some stakes.

Home for the night.

Patrick had heard about a motor boat club in Sonning, so we found it on the map and wandered over for a visit. A few hours, a tour and several conversations with members later, and we were ready to sign up as members. We had hamburgers aboard that evening and an early night because we had plans for the morning.

Very early plans.

A 5am Start

There is a wetland area only a few minutes' walk along the towpath from the Sonning moorings. We knew that if we went early enough, we should see and hear plenty of birds — one of our favourite pastimes — and perhaps spot a muntjac or even a fox. Patrick and I both have a bird-identification app on our phones, which has somehow turned birdwatching into a competition.

Who heard the most birds? Who got a new one?

Neither of us has the slightest control over which phone happens to pick up which bird, but that doesn't appear to have made the competition any less serious.

So at 5am, we were up. And it was worth it.

We watched the sunrise from beside a pond, surrounded by the morning chorus, binoculars in hand and sipping Baileys coffee. We spotted a fox but no muntjac. We did hear them though and it was obvious why they are known as “barking deer”. There as a serious conversation going on between two males a little off in the bushes, but we didn’t get to see them.

There are definitely worse ways to start a day.

Let's Try Something Different

Back aboard Deux Poissons, after comparing our bird-app results, breakfast and a shower, it was time to decide what to do next. We had originally planned to head straight down to Henley-on-Thames, but a few weeks earlier we had seen a boat anchored near Shiplake Lock.

We hadn't actually anchored Deux Poissons on the river before. In fact, we hadn't been "at anchor" for years.

So... why not?

Patrick fitted a trip line to the anchor in case it became caught on something on the riverbed. That's a very real possibility on rivers and canals because you never quite know what's down there — tree stumps, shopping trolleys, bicycles...

I once watched an office chair slowly disappear beneath the surface of the Thames.

We found our spot, dropped the anchor and set up camp. It was incredibly hot, so up went our enormous umbrella on the foredeck. Out came the mattresses. The bird apps went on. And we settled down for an afternoon of doing very little. There were a couple of games of backgammon — I wasn't risking cards again — some attempts at reading our books while sipping on cold beers and, eventually, the inevitable snoozing.

It was glorious.

A Night on the Riverbank

We decided not to stay at anchor overnight and set off again, looking for somewhere equally remote and a little different. Our Environment Agency licence allows us to use EA visitor moorings along the Thames, and with the help of one of the river apps we found a bankside mooring between Shiplake and Henley.

It was perfect. Trees overhead, countryside around us and what looked like some beautiful shady walks along the towpath.

Once again, there were no neat bollards waiting for us. Out came the stakes and the hammer. I love mooring that way. There is something much more traditional — and slightly wild — about hammering your own stakes into the riverbank and tying the boat to them.

By then it was getting fairly late, so the remainder of the evening was simple: showers, dinner and a few games of Rummikub. My losing streak continued.

The following morning we woke early. It was a work day, but there was still enough time to enjoy the coolness of the morning and take a walk along the towpath before opening the laptops.

And then the day was spent in meetings and doing all the necessary things that make this rather beautiful lifestyle possible.

Henley-on-Thames

We found a gap in the working day, said goodbye to our pretty little mooring — making careful note of its location so we could find it again — and continued downriver to Henley-on-Thames.

Henley is beautiful, historic and very traditionally English, although after the secluded places we'd spent the previous few days, it felt decidedly busy. We found a mooring.

Just.

It was a squeeze.

And without either of us really needing to say anything, we both agreed that dinner out sounded like an excellent idea.

So we headed to the pub for a meal and then wandered through town as the evening drew in.

It was getting darker earlier now, which felt rather sad. It has been a glorious summer.

And Then We Met a Friend...

The following morning was another work day, but it was also time to begin making our way back towards our mooring in Reading. We planned one final night at Sonning before heading home. Just as we were discussing when to set off, a friend appeared upriver in his boat. We hadn't seen him for almost a year. He had spent much of that time further down the Thames and was now making his way back upriver — with plans to spend the night at Sonning.

Perfect. We arranged to meet there later that afternoon.

That evening turned into one of those wonderfully unplanned nights that seem to happen on the river. We sat talking until late, catching up and swapping stories about boats, travels and life on the Thames.

The next morning we were up early again and set off together towards Reading. As expected, there were no lock keepers on duty that early on a weekday, so we worked the locks ourselves. With two boats and extra hands, even that became part of the fun.

Eventually Deux Poissons turned back into her familiar mooring as we waved our friend off, slightly jealous that he was headed up to beyond Goring-on-Thames, which is so beautiful and remote.

So it was ...shore power connected. Water tanks filled. And the washing machine in our tiny marina laundry already working its way through the inevitable pile of clothes.

Five days earlier, we had moved the boat ten minutes upriver because it was too hot to sit at our mooring and work. Somehow, that had turned into Mapledurham, Sonning, a dawn walk through the wetlands, an afternoon at anchor, a night tied to a riverbank, Henley, dinner out, an unexpected reunion with a friend and a journey home together.

The painting hadn't been done.

The decks still needed attention.

The to-do list was exactly where we'd left it.

And we didn't regret our 2–0 vote for a second.

Sometimes one of the greatest luxuries of living aboard isn't travelling somewhere far away.

It's being able to untie the ropes and see what happens.


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.