I thought I might try something a bit different for the old blog for a few weeks. I’ve been raking through all the older files on my laptop and have found some little gold nuggets of writing that I think ought to be shared and so here is the first one – Soup and Serenity.

During the lockdown of 2020, The Canal and River Trust (CRT, formerly British Waterways) ran a writing competition. It was open to anyone who had any kind of link to the canals and seeing as how we were living on board a narrow boat at the time I thought I’d have a go.

At that point I only had Ah Boy! and The Ghost of Lenton Wattingham published but I figured I knew my way around a short story and why not try.

The rules were simple. Your story could only be 300 words long and had to revolve around the canals in some way. The following is my attempt and it recalls a rather special moment for Ange and I when we stopped cruising for a break near Gargrave on the Leeds/Liverpool.

See what you think…

The sunshine and the warmth of the day made a mockery of November whilst the mugs of hot soup and the hunks of crusty bread gave it credence. A few days making our way to the splendid town of Skipton had given us a renewed zest for cruising and as I was still fairly new to boating, and as eager as a schoolboy to explore further, we decided to head the four miles to Gargrave.

There was not a breath of wind to be felt as our wide-beam craft left it’s wake behind us but rumbling stomachs made us think it was time for a break and a bite. We stopped after a farmer’s swing bridge and moored up. Behind us was a rolling green landscape, that spoke volumes of all that is great and good about the English countryside, and before us was an imposing hill, ablaze with reddening gorse and spiked with lofty pine trees.

Ange disappeared into the galley, while I secured the ropes fore and aft, and returned soon after with two mugs of piping hot chicken soup and thickly buttered slices of bloomer; I always smile at her generous buttering. We sat on the deck with our humble yet hearty little meal and took in our surroundings. It all felt right. The weather, the food, the view, each other’s company and above all the sense of freedom that only being on the water can bring. Countryside smells competed with the warm odour of the diesel engine for the interest of our nostrils and a sense of perfect peace was upon us.

The labour of locks beckoned us towards the nearby village but for now we thought only of that golden, tranquil moment in time. We happily sipped our soup and smiled contentedly at each other.

Exactly 300 words to the letter. Needless to say, I didn’t win the competition but I enjoyed rising to the challenge and reminiscing about a rather special Autumn day in our lives.