Interior of a Narrowboat

Time passes as slowly as you want on the Canals. One of the nicest things about journeying on a narrowboat is the fact that your progress is measured in a few miles [or pubs] per day rather than 70 miles per hour. This is the front living cabin in Rambling Rose, my parents just taking it easy one afternoon while the world slips by at crawling pace...

That's not to say, of course, that you cannot force the pace when you want: I remember well doing the Wolverhampton Flight of 21 locks in terrential rain at midnight one year because we were making up for lost time. In our earlier days on the cut we used to start very early: the first person up got underway and the second up made the bacon butties, and everyone else soon followed. Similarly we used to stop late, often in darkness, could often be seen with one person walking on the towpath with a torch and a long stick [for guaging the depth of the water], searching for a suitable mooring place.