D


uring the long months of “lockdown” I had thought I may have been inspired by writing more of my


poetry. However, this wasn't the case, so instead I’d like to share this poem previously written - a meditation called “The Moorhen and the Tunnel”.


We travelled by narrow boat along the Grand Union Canal on a fine summer’s day, moving slowly to the hum of the engine. A moorhen had made its nest in a rubber tyre floating, and tied to the stern of a moored canal boat. How dangerous I thought should that craft leave its moorings, dragging the tyre and its contents behind it, flooding the nest and maybe drowning the nestlings!


It reminded me of the foolish man from the parable of Jesus who built his house upon the sand, only for it to crumble and fall due to the onset of the waves and the storm.


The canal boat chugged towards Blissworth tunnel known for its long half an hour’s journey through it. This journey once took far longer when men called “Leggers” stretched their legs out to the tunnel’s walls, lying prone on their backs and matching the progress of the boat by “legging” along, against the walls, one person on each side of the


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