Saturday 16th August
We set off from Enslow wondering if the day would be summer or autumn. Luckily it tended towards the former, although the fruits along the canal have all come early and herald September. A short run and we pulled over at Kirtlington quarry. We’ve had good blackberrying there before and it lived up to it’s promise. Another boat pulled into the mooring in front of us, so we told her that we’d be moving off once we finished gathering fruit. She said she’s hoped her teenage daughters would get up out of bed, maybe they’d collect blackberries. I suggested that blackberry muffins would get them up, a ‘must do’ after a previous visit here many years ago. “How do you make them?” I gave her a copy of my MayoMuffin recipe so she decided that a mother-daughter baking session was in order.
oven heats the base and it cooks very differently to any other oven I’ve used. It browns the bottoms leaving the tops pale, and best position in the oven has been too difficult to calculate. In went a batch of blackberry muffins and ten fingers were crossed. Twenty minutes later we were eating them hot on the back deck. The remainder were spotted by a gongoozler whilst they were cooling in the galley, I’d put them to cool upside down with the brown flat surface uppermost, he complimented me on my scones. Time to rebrand , Blackberry scoffins!
We were advised that we were following both a stag and hen party heading North up the Oxford. The stags were not to be seen but at Aynho wharf we passed the hens. It was clearly a ‘girly’ party before we got to them, the smell of perfume was carried down the cut by the wind. A refreshing change from the smell of booze normally associated with hen cruises. Forget our scoffins, as we passed their boat a traditional afternoon tea was laid out on the table. We’d already been offered Indian treats by the crew on a dayboat, as we passed them lunch was being passed around and Brenda commented “oooooooooooh lunch!” Would you like some? was the very fast response – shame we’d just eaten our own lunch so “no thanks” was my sad reply. Just as well no hen tea was offered, could we have resisted?
We moored for the night just south of Banbury. After we’d eaten our dinner Graham went off to move the car before it got dark.