We had rather a lovely time of it yesterday, but wary of our self imposed need to make some miles for a day or two, and perhaps to do that before the temperature aboard reached forty, we thought we should leave early.
Early means, when one of us wakes, he starts Mr Perkins, startling the other into some sort of foggy state that matches the mist on the water.
We make a coffee and go, leaving all the other niceties of cruising life to be attended to as we roll along. This is both a good and a bad thing. It's glorious underway at that time, gliding along an indescribably still reflection, but it's nice for instance to be out of night attire by the time one reaches the first lock, particularly if there is someone else waiting there to travel with one.
The temperature by nine, when we stopped for a quick supermarket top-up, was already in the thirties. The air still and breathless, a portent of a long day with no potential shade stops, so we considered that to keep moving was probably the most productive thing to do.
It's too beautiful on the river to worry about the heat though.