Invasion of the grannies. City centre draped in crimplene.

Friday night, the clubs and bars were open just round the corner from our mooring.  Would we get bovvered overnight.  Early in the evening we looked out of the window to see what sort of  people were out and about, fearing the sight of chavs on the rampage. No Rick to protect us, his term of service was up he had gone back home by train.

What's this?  A granny.  And another. And another, and another. Blimey, another! What's going on?  We looked up the programme for the NIA next door to us.  Daniel O'Donnell.  And at the Symphony Hall round the corner "We'll meet again - wartime songs introduced by Angela Rippon".  The place was awash with crimplene and the roads blocked with coaches!  The chief noise was not the smashing of bottles but the squeak of wheelchaits and the clack clack of zimmer frames on the paviours.

So we were alright.

Andy Parsons at the town hall was, well, just like Andy Parsons really.  60 minutes really funny satire in a 90 minute show.

This morning we thought we would explore Ouzell Street Loop on our way out of town.  Quite an interesting backwater and I suspect very quiet although only just round the corner from where it all happens.

 It only took ten minutes to do the loop but it was not without incident as the exit back onto the main line requires a 320 degree blind turn out of a ten foot wide opening.  I can confidently tell you that the width of the main line there is about 50ft 2 inches as we were briefly jammed across it in our 50ft Herbie!

Then on through Brindley Place

past the last of the posh city centre bits

and within minutes it all gets green again

a steady stream of joggers passes us and we head out into the sticks.

Birmingham has been really great and we'll definitely return to see more.  Tonight we're well down the Stratford canal, which up until here seems to be an endless sequence of wooded cuttings.

Tomorrow the Lapworth Flight.  Can't wait.