First I reefed the genny then switched on the iron sail, by now the wind was just off the bow gradually pushing us towards the shore, which was opposite to what we wanted, I was looking for Q5 our turning point into the river. Some may say my blind faith in the plotter is misguided, but when you're virtually alone, in the dark with no means of manual navigation, there wasn't much else I could do. As usual the confusion of lights behind those at the mouth of the river, were preventing me at sea level and below, from differentiating which was which. Off to port the flare of the gas fields was distinctly visible, as was a passing ferry lit up like a Christmas tree. I scrunched myself into the corner of the cockpit wondering if a Christmas cruise was such a good idea.

Suddenly, like the demon popping up through the stage trapdoor, out of the blackness of the companionway stepped a familiar figure frightening me half to death.

"Good evening Eric, where the bloody well are we?" "Fully recovered then are you?" I asked. He obviously was, busy looking at the plotter and over the sprayhood. "I see we're already in the river"! Neil absolutely amazes me sometimes, which is why I put up with his wisecracks and warped sense of humour. "Fancy some dinner" I enquired, "Hungry as a hunter" he replied. We still had the Fray Bentos Steak & Kidney pie and my boil in the bag chicken curry from Safeway's, so I stuck them both in a pan of water on the cooker, then tried to thaw out in the heat radiating from the gas cooker.

It was after nine when we had eaten, stood in the shelter of the cockpit watching the familiar scenes from the riverside drift by. "It's club night tonight you know?" "Wonder if we can get Paul the standby lock keeper to let us in?" "Bed at home sounds better than a cold night on a mooring". Mobile phone out, I rang Colin, another of The Old Farts Club. "Wadda ya mean can I get Paul to let you in, where the hell are you?" "I'm on the river with Neal coming back from Caernarfon" I explained" Finally it sank in what we wanted, with a £20 bribe promised he went off to find Paul. Ten minutes later he rang back, "Right you're on, he'll do it but you'll have to wait 'til midnight and keep your mouth shut about the twenty". It was now ten thirty, an hour and a half to go.

We motored past the lock entrance, then balanced the boat against the tide to maintain our position. It was absolutely freezing, a gaseous fog rising from the water adding a ghostly touch to the proceedings. During our wait the scotch was hit a number of times. A commotion on the bank alerted us to a possible problem, it was two fishermen making sure we didn't snag their lines, and people say we're mad!

Just after midnight, the VHF crackled into life, "Eclipse this is the lock, gates will open in five minutes". "Thank you Liverpool Marina, ready when you are" was my reply. Out on the river the sound of the bridge alarm sounded unnerveingly loud, the sound being transmitted by the water. We saw the bridge lift above the wall, going through its automatic sequence. In the pound in front of the gates we waited in anticipation, a crack of light from between the gates showing the lamps on the pontoons inside, telling us the gates had started to open, we crept in, the gates thudding shut behind us. There was no sign of Paul, obviously he was lying low in case questions were asked later.

The gates into Brunswick opened, we motored out, silently thanking Paul we didn't have to endure another night on the river. I said I would pay Neil back for his antics, and his sickness on the way back, as he was stepping off Eclipse after tying up, he slipped and would have ended up in the water if I hadn't caught him. But best of all, which didn't come out until the next club night. We said goodnight, got in our respective cars to drive home. Neil was stopped on the way home and breathalysed by the police, luckily for him they let him go.

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