Dead Wood-Fish and a Very Suspicious-Looking Man Photographing My Home

One never really knows, does one?

Not showing any obvious ID, systematically – and patently inartistically – photographing the boats moored along here, both occupied and unoccupied.

For what purpose, one wonders?

The prowler – for given his behaviour and with his being unidentified and unannounced I may only assume that he is such – and his obviously casing the joints hereabouts – has been reported to Her Majesty’s Messrs Fuzz & Co.

Also reported to the Canal Company.

The Police have been helpful. [That there was what is known as a “Pointed Remark”…]

We shall see. I’ve set the burglar alarm to “heavy stun” rather than just “stun”.


The transformer stepping up the “welcome voltage” is humming a slightly different tone to hithertofore aforehand.

So – dead fish, eh? Only the wooden bones of this one left, thrown up onto the towpath by whatever predator enjoyed its flesh. There’s never an angler about when you need one, and always an angler about whenever you’re coming alongside a lock landing or mooring.

The skellington of an eaten-by-something-until-deceased Wood-Fish.

That’ll boil down into a nice fish stew later in the week.

Since the part-formed un-trained human grubs went back to secure institutions run for the protection of unrelated innocent adults school this past week or so – dare I say it – the canals have seemed less insane and frantic. There are still holiday-makers about of course, but generally just ill-behaved adults rather than ill-behaved adults with added ill-behaved spawn-of-the-devil’s-loins.

The moorings hereabouts fill up in the evenings, but during the day there are far fewer fisticuffs and wrestling matches over prime spaces.

That;s not me moored on the towpath to the right, I’m just around the bend, and – groovily – out of sight, man.

There was a screeching match at the lock yesterday, when with a queue of mayhap three boats in either direction someone accused someone else of doing something nefarious with a paddle or with speed and a paddle or some such, but in the end no hair was pulled and all kicking was restricted to ankle-level and below only.

Damn it.

Am I on the restricted moorings? Am I hell as like.

The last of the rings of the restricted moorings remains unabused and wholly available for use by nice(r) people than I. Restricted moorings to the left of frame, Cardinal to the right.

Miles off, and on the towpath unhindered.

One of my favourite trees in these parts still stands, but it’s well-dead.

When trees in corn-fields get all dramatic, with added birds. Deader than all hope for the future of England.

The marina’s where I left it. Haven’t been in this neighbourhood for a couple of months.

Venetian Marina, Middlewich Branch.

The railway bridge has moved a little, but not enough for the human eye to notice.

Venetian Marina, Middlewich Branch

The human eye’s hardly moved at all, except perhaps to swivel slightly more wildly.

Talking of swivelling eyes on stalks, if anyone out there spots any sanity in the world then please do let me know.

The sooner we know about instances of human-life-as-it-was the sooner we can get a clean-up team out there to rub it away.

Ye gods, its not as though we any of us want a pleasant, human-shaped world to live in, is it?

Chin-chin, chaps.

IGH., &etc.


    1. Sometimes be it a crying shame that the Apocalypse Proper didn’t actually happen, and the “rule” of “law” still pertains…

      The gentleman’s earlier Opus Magnum – ‘Blades of Grass I Have Known’ – sold millions.

      Liked by 1 person

  1. Probably some ‘gentry’ numpty who feels his prerogatives being trodded upon by the hoi polloi. You could try hurling the fish corpse at him if he returns.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I suspect that the quickest way to find out who he is and who his lawyers are would be to follow him next time I see him, photographing him each time he photographs someone’s boat/home – a quick check on how all animals in England are equal but some are more equal than others…


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    1. I wonder if a change of wardrobe to some sort of full “riot gear” would improve matters? A change of my wardrobe, that is. I may have to re-think this “old chap in a flat cap” routine and send out a totally different vibe…

      … hospital gown, a line of stitches around my skull, and a trailing IV tube perhaps. Something that says – at a distance – ‘I know Berserk and how to use it.’

      I’ve tried the “Mad Max” look, and I just look like an old chap who ought to be wearing a flat cap trying the Mad Max look. I need a PPRA. A Personal PR Agency, for advice. πŸ˜‰

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  2. πŸ€”Mmm I seem to recognise that lock!
    As for “frantic” don’t go up the golly as it’s manic dude

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I think you may have been there once or twice… As for the Llan – never again until the depths of Winter, and only then if it goes quiet!

      Have you got enough fenders out around your boat for the Llan as it is?

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    1. πŸ™‚ Probably ecstatic to be able to tick off a Northwich Boats No.3 hull in his I Spy Book of Boats!

      Certainly do see some sights on the canals. It’s a microcosm of life on Earth, but with added “weird”…

      Liked by 1 person

  3. Just a wondering, not a wandering. How’s yon apple tree new the Barbridge side of the lock. Are there any mahoosive apples left?

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    1. The apple tree is alive and well and going strong – but I haven’t noticed any great crop of apples this year. It may be that they’ve been scrumped, or it may be that the tree is shy…

      Hope life is going well and that you don’t regret your decision to take up flying Dakotas again for the Venezuelan smug drugglers. πŸ™‚


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