Put in a shimmy to slip from our neighbour before topping up with water. Left the sanitized safety of New Islington and set the first lock.

Privy to plenty of terrifying hearsay about the final Rochdale 9, we were ready for it, them, whatever. Straight into Urban, but the good variety: proper old buildings, interesting redevelopments, life, a general feeling of sharpness on a good level. Water levels were high, meaning gates required strong man pushing at best and in some cases double setting. Grand Manchester began to unfold around us, before diving down under a bridge leading to Canal Street –  a gloopy, sticky underfoot experience to put it nicely. In the dull glow we met a boat full of Dutch, the underworld took on a freaky Mr Ben twist when they told us they were doing the Four Counties Ring…really?!

Out in the open I bobbed in a lock while Nick legged it into Oxford St for lunch, soon engrosed…