I'm too old to die young and leave a good-looking corpse ...

 ... and I didn't really think that there was any actual danger in navigating The Pool of London in a narrowboat, but I was aware that it would be 'an adventure' ... and it was! Of course; my meticulous (by my standards) planning, and attention to safety details did, in fact, cause a few flutters of trepidation in Lyn's heart. Never fear ... we live to tell the tale!

We left you - gentle reader - at the point where we nosed out of the Thames Lock at Limehouse, and then turned right.

Even before clearing the lock we were, discernibly, pitching. (Pitching: moving up and down front relative to back.) I, myself, had expected - in a flat-bottomed boat - that rolling would be more of an issue. Happily; it was not ... and the pitching motion was not violent. Provably so, as at no time over the next three hours did I evince the slightest symptom of sea-sickness. (A novelty for me, in these circumstances,)

The Thames; for the first 5 or 6 miles; was quite rough ... relatively speaking. This was due to traffic, rather than the stiff breeze which was blowing. However; during the whole of this part of the trip; none of the crew evinced anything other than quite confidence. (I was doing a great job of faking quiet confidence!!!) The only authentic difficulty was in the steering of a rational course, whilst we dodged the various 'trip-boats' and other tourist conveyances, all of which showed scant regard for our lack of sea-worthiness. The worst were the 'RIBs'; which I presume to be an acronym for 'Rigid Inflatable Boat'. The speeds they attain throw up quite daunting wakes; so I was constantly pursuing a sinuating course, in my attempts tp present either my bow or stern to threatening waves. Indeed; my attention to duty - to my craft and my crew - prevented me from glorying in the sights on offer. Luckily; others were using modern photographic technology to record the various highlights.

Here - in less than discriminating order, and unexpurgated - are samples of their pictorial labours ... (It's not "LABORS"; spellcheck; I'm British!!!)

I can't wait all day for them to open this thing!

HMS Belfast??? Where did Tower Bridge go?

Ah! There it is!

So the Tower of London must be around here ... 

Lyn's the REALLY Big Wheel in this picture!

It's not falling down, so it can't be London Bridge, can it?

Phillip The Navigator.

Bridges! Everywhere you look: more bridges. (25 in all.)

Are we there yet?

Yes ... gentle reader ... we DID get to Brentford (Have we been here before?); just as the light was waning. Tired but triumphant ... the way we seem to feel a lot, these days.

Now ... off up the Grand Union canal towards Warwick. And so to bed.