The canal.

The canal that runs through Nottingham is really the river Leen, which ran through Nottingham and was the supply route for the castle, flowing as it did at the base of the sandstone outcrop on which the castle stands. It was canalised to make it more navigable and to try to control flooding.

It used to be pretty derelict and abandoned. But now some of the old warehouses are clubs and pubs, and there are lots of new blocks of flats. The canal towpath is a walking and cycling route, and it’s my shortest way to the swimming baths.

A longer walk along the canal can take you to the Trent, and the Victoria Embankment, which is really pleasant. Sometimes we go that way for a walk and sometimes we take the grandsons. One time when we were with them, a heron was on the path. It kept moving along the canal just ahead of us, making sudden darts to the edge, and every time it made a dart, it caught a fish. The boys loved it, especially because we were close enough to see the heron’s throat convulsing with each gulp. It looked as though the fish was still struggling on its way down.

There are quite a lot of waterfowl, mallards, coots, and Canada geese mainly, but occasionally greylag geese and rarer things; once a pochard spent the winter on the canal, looking quite out of place among the mallards. I imagined them leading him astray with their streetwise ways. The only birds that seem to manage to raise chicks are the Canada geese. I don’t like them – they are quite smart to look at, but whole aggressive flocks, producing vast amounts of excrement, aren’t an asset to any landscape. But they are brilliant, devoted  parents. Of course their size has got to be an advantage – even urban foxes probably think twice before tackling them – but mallards  are just hopeless. They don’t seem to hatch many eggs, which, to be fair, might be the fault of the foxes, but then if they do end up with ducklings, they are mostly oblivious of the poor little things struggling to keep up with mum. The ducklings  peep away in the most pathetic manner, swimming frantically, and I actually get quite upset. Not for long though; the ducklings mysteriously disappear after a day or two.

There are lots of fish in the canal. The water is pretty murky, so you can’t see them, but there are plenty of fishermen, one or two of whom I see often enough to say hello to, and one once showed me the contents of his keepnet. There must have been seven or eight really good sized fish; bream, he told me. Usually the fishermen just put them back, but apparently the East Europeans eat them. This is, apparently, bad form. I wouldn’t leap at the opportunity of eating anything that came out of the canal, although it can’t be so bad, otherwise there wouldn’t be fish at all.

Canal boats vary from the water gypsy / hippy sort of narrow boat, to narrow boats registered with holiday companies - it seems a bit odd to come to Nottingham and moor by the magistrate's court on one's holiday - to smart cabin cruisers. The canoes are mainly on the river, along with the various sculls and eights.  

I did take the kids to learn to canoe on the river, years and years ago. Of course the first thing we had to do was capsize and forward roll out of the canoe, and also of course, the first person to have to do it was me. For some reason I had a mental image of rolling out of the canoe straight into a supermarket trolley, but I had to set an example, so steeled myself and did it, and realised that the river is much too deep for a trolley to be a problem. But then the depth and the strength of the current gave me something else to worry about. Still, we all completed the course. I even had a certificate, but I don’t know where it’s gone. And it was useful – second son had a spell of living in a flat right on the canal and his workplace is also on the canal, so he bought a canoe from Gumtree and used it to get to work. How green is that?