It may have taken a few months but we are finally in cruising mode and the three hours that it took to travel the thirteen kilometres or so today was more than enough to satisfy our need for moving on.
I suspect that no one would sympathise with our day in the office, being forced as we were to glide for kilometres along the top tier of a weir in water as still and clear as a mirror, or through forested tunnels, or for that matter in the sparkling waters of the river itself under clear blue sunny skies, but despite the apparently idyllic conditions, we couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss.
We couldn't put our collective fingers on it for a time, the sky seems too blue, completely free of haze, visibility in the locks is crisper than it has ever been before, and then it dawned.
The absence of our dear Mr Perkin's fog has made the difference.
It is not going to take long at all to become accustomed to his new more socially acceptable habits.