For more than a century they have lain abandoned, putrid and apparently useless. Canals were once the arteries of the Industrial Revolution, transporting more than 30 million tons of goods a year on 5,000 miles of waterway the length and breadth of Britain. But their heyday was brief. The first canals were dug at a frantic rate in the 1770s; half a century later the railways arrived, and the canals were no match for cold steel track. Long stretches were filled in. Banks collapsed, lock gates rotted and towpaths became overgrown. By the start of the motorway age only 2,000 miles survived, clogged with weed and broken shopping trolleys, a nationalised remnant of a dying network.

The revival began with volunteers - enthusiasts who cleaned the Kennet & Avon or repaired staircases of locks for the growing armada of narrow boats that carried holidaymakers at a tranquil 4mph through leafy scenery and into the heartlands of our industrial past. City planners quickened the pace, reviving the canals of Birmingham and other cities with cafés, walkways and upmarket housing. British Waterways has spent millions to repair tunnels, fix leaks and locks and reopen 200 miles of canal. There are now more boats, anglers, walkers and towpath cyclists than ever. Even freight has returned: rising fuel bills, clogged roads, new wharfs and environmental concerns have made it worth moving wine and waste, sand and aggregates by barge. Will the idyllic days of Toad and the washerwoman return? Will magnificent shire horses, now a dying breed, be saved by new duties on the towpath? Canals are the calming antidotes to the stresses of modern life. Their past is our future.