OVER the last week both the pace of referendum campaigning and the quantity of railway matters hitting my desk have ramped up markedly, meaning that I have spent rather too many days rising very early.

The upside has been witnessing the sunny dawns, listening to the dawn chorus and hearing a fascinating radio analysis of my favourite hymn, Dear Lord and Father of Mankind, whose final line, exhorting us to listen through the "earthquake, wind, and fire" to the "still, small voice of calm" has perhaps never been more appropriate.

According to those who comment rather than do, we appear be getting stuck in to an Almighty row about the referendum with tempers fraying, facts falling foul of emotion and some people so fed up with the whole thing that they say they will not bother to vote. I sincerely hope that they change their minds by June 23 as not to participate seems terribly short-sighted when so much is at stake and so many previous governments denied us the right to this referendum.

And yet I am cheered every day that behind all the sound and fury, many people are seeking the “still small voice”; finding time for reasonable debate, asking questions, and coming to their own conclusions. As I have mentioned, last weekend we hired a canal boat from the wonderful Foxhangers Marina and ventured out along the Kennet and Avon canal. As we moored up for a very rainy Saturday night, having grappled with steering, locks and swing bridges (blimey, they are heavy), I was heartened to overhear a referendum conversation between two women out for a walk along the towpath. After discussing the economic risks they then agreed that the main point for them was choosing community not isolation. As one of them said, with the world an increasingly unsafe place, why would we want to isolate ourselves from our neighbours? I nearly jumped off 'Foxtrot' to agree wholeheartedly with them, then realised that in my drenched, dishevelled state I might not be welcome.

Despite the weather (which thankfully cleared up rapidly on Sunday) the canal experience was absolutely magical and left me in awe of the vision, energy and intellect of those who originally designed and built the canals, and those who restored the K&A to its current amazing state. The current system is absolutely brilliant, with breathtaking restored structures like the Caen Hill flight and Avoncliff Aqueduct to admire although less glorious was our boat spin right after Avoncliff where the Austin Powers 50-point turn scene sprang to mind.