Over a period of two years, at weekends and spare moments in the evenings, I was built with loving care and some words whose meaning I failed to understand by Syd, assisted at times by Millie. By the time I was finished I was a ten foot long sailing dinghy, and for my first launching into my natural element I was taken to Wivenhoe on the estuary of the River Colne in August 1966, and slid into the salt water. With only one sail and two inexperienced sailors on board I did not get very far that first short season. The mouth of Roman Rivers was interesting at first but became rather boring.

Winter came again, and I was welcomed back to my resting place under the yew tree by Jo, the friendly cat who gave me my name. During this time many improvements, including the addition of a jib, were made to me by Syd, and our next season at Wivenhoe was more enjoyable. And because she had something to do in looking after the jib, I think Millie was beginning to enjoy it more. So much so that, by the time the third summer had come around, Millie had made me a bigger and better jib, and I had acquired a new Seagull 40 Plus outboard motor for occasions when sailing was not possible.

Then I began to suspect that plans were afoot for a holiday. Well, I am not very big, and I wondered just how all this would work out when I heard talk of tents, Camping Gaz, locks and canals.

We found that the council at Evesham had a large car park and picnic spot alongside the river with a slipway where boats could be taken down to the water with no charge. Syd and Millie, after a delay, had lock passes and licences from the Lower Avon Navigation Trust and British Waterways.

We met the hazard of a rope ferry across the river. We were supposed to sound a horn on approaching and it would be lowered into the water for our passage over it, but I am not fitted out like a cruiser. A shout did the trick.

Only two of the locks on the Avon are manned, so Syd had to go ashore to open lock gates while Millie held on to a wet chain and fended off. Under an 11ft 6ins bridge I had to be heeled in order to get my 12ft mast under. On Sundays the locks are manned by volunteers, so Syd was able to stay aboard. At Eckington Bridge, very old and brick built, my mast had to be unstepped for the first time and replaced after going under. We moored at Bredon and saw Roger and family with their Wayfarer. Syd enjoyed a sail, although there wasn’t a lot of wind, and I do not think the river sailors here get a really good sail. But it is a long way from the sea, and folk make the best of it: there are several sailing clubs on the river.

We went through a lock into the Severn and then upstream towards Upton. There are no camping places hereabouts, so it meant staying a night in an hotel. We went up to Stourport and then back. My mast had to be unstepped for the Birmingham and Wolverhampton Canal, where there are very many bridges. We went round Worcester, through the Offerton flight of six locks and as far as Oddingly, through a stretch where the canal is above the field! There is no slipway at Oddingly and I had to be lifted out of the canal by Syd and John.

My last memory of the canal was of an old narrow boat proceeding at a very slow pace, due, the Skipper said, to lack of steam. For, most surprisingly, this was a really ancient craft propelled by its original steam engine. The name on the side was Nautilus, and her bearded owner tended the boilers lovingly, and she disappeared into the dusk.