Matti bounces and frolics along the verdant green until she spies a house. And there I call her to halt. Together we wonder who harked to the name of "Tranby " to have such a kennel of historic repute. Or perhaps she barked to the name of Tranby. For a fleeting instant I flirt with how it might have been had Matti been blessed that way. I roll the name about my tongue – " Tranby, here girl. " "Tranby, will you come". But Matti is singularly unmoved.

The moment gone we skip a flight of steps and skirt the ancient abode by way of a well trodden towpath. Ahead, a jetty forewarns us of highly nautical matters yet to come.