Gone for a Burton

Union Jacks and England flags flutter in many a garden of the small houses that line the canal into Burton upon Trent. Usually a bad sign, I fear. But you can see why when you explore the depressing, down-at-heel town, reeking of poverty rather than the brewing that still dominates it. Thin, pale, fag chewing, crew-cutted types mingle with grossly overweight, equally pale, fag chewing types. The well-dressed and well-off are conspicuously absent from the streets.
Star is currently residing in Shobnall Marina (small, friendly) in Burton while we break for a week of family stuff. Curiously we're travelling by train from Burton (home of Waterways World magazine) to Wendens Ambo (home of Canal Boat when I ran it).
Four hours of noisy, crowded, grimness later I remember why I love cars and hate trains. Maybe if I pay one of the kids £50 instead of paying Cross-Country Crowding £50 they'll give us a lift back!