I went on loads of canal holidays as a kid...
My parents being the type of who thought that holidays should be character building rather than fun. As a family we went on holidays on the Llangollan canal, Friesland in the Netherlands and the Canal Du Midi. My main recollection is one of being bored out of my tiny mind, but from time to time the boredom would be interspersed with the drudgery of being made to do some work. This would usually involve helping to negotiate our narrow boat through one of the many locks whilst my dad screamed instructions at me (imagine the dad from Friday Night Dinner crossed with Captain Bligh) sometimes there were lock keepers to help but being a boy and the eldest child I was usual responsible for doing all the cranking, winding, opening and closing etc. One incident that really sticks in the mind though, is having to negotiate this bastard...



Called The Fonserannes locks, I must have been about 12 years old, and inevitably, I was the poor sod holiding the rope on the footpath whilst the weather decided to hurl 50 shades of shite at me - wind, rain, sleet, snow, engine parts - whilst my dad danced about the boat sreaming instructions at me like Hitler getting to the climax of his speech at rally for the third reiche. Let's just say by the end of the experience I was not a happy bunny.
(Nitrous Nitrous, Fri 2 Nov 2012, 9:43, 2 replies)

Reminds me of the Caen Hill locks down the road
they take about half a day to get up/down if busy.
( M3rx likes the Asian ladies, Fri 2 Nov 2012, 10:34, closed)

Ah, those fuckers.
I also had to negotiate them in a full force piss storm. My sympathies.
( Wet-chinned bag shanker Cannot parse Wogan, Fri 2 Nov 2012, 14:52, closed)