A New Bakery Opens in a Converted Lock Keeper's Cottage

For years, the little brick cottage beside the third lock sat empty, its windows shuttered and its garden gone to seed. Regular towpath walkers knew it as a landmark more than a home — a place to check your watch against or to point out to visiting friends. That changed last month, when the Mercer family unlocked the front door and quietly began selling bread.
The cottage, built for a lock keeper in the days when someone had to be on hand at all hours to work the gates, has been carefully converted. The old cast-iron stove is gone, replaced by a deck oven that fills the ground floor with heat, but the family kept the original flagstone floor and the deep-set windows. Shelves behind the counter hold rye loaves, milk bread, and a rotating cast of pastries that tend to sell out before ten in the morning.
What makes the shop unusual isn't just the setting. The Mercers bake everything on site in small batches, which means the selection shifts depending on what sold the day before. On a recent Tuesday, that meant cardamom buns and a sourdough with a crust so dark it looked almost burned — it wasn't. By Wednesday, the buns were gone and a tray of cheese scones had taken their place.
Why the Neighborhood Noticed So Quickly
Word traveled fast, and not just because of the smell. The cottage sits at a natural pause point on the towpath, where walkers, cyclists, and boaters all tend to slow down. For years, the only nearby option was a vending machine at the marina. Now there's a bench out front, a water bowl for dogs, and a chalkboard listing the day's bake.
Several narrowboat owners have already worked the shop into their routines. One couple who moor a few locks down said they now time their weekend cruises around the bakery's opening hours. A jogging group that passes through on Saturday mornings has started finishing their route at the cottage, which the Mercers seem happy about — they've added a tray of day-old loaves at a reduced price specifically for the runners.
There are limits. The shop doesn't have a seating area, and the family has been clear that they aren't trying to become a café. It's a bakery, open Wednesday through Sunday, closing when the bread runs out. They've also asked customers not to block the towpath with bikes, a request that has mostly been honored.
What It Means for the Wider Canal
Small openings like this one tend to matter more than they first appear. A working shop brings foot traffic, and foot traffic brings attention to the canal itself — the towpath's condition, the water quality, the lighting after dark. Several residents have already used the bakery's popularity as a talking point in the ongoing discussion about towpath maintenance, arguing that if more people are using the path, the case for repairs gets stronger.
The Mercers say they're taking things slowly and have no plans to expand. For now, the cottage is doing what it did a century ago: giving people a reason to stop at the lock. The bread is just a better incentive than a set of gates.

After years of speculation, the derelict wharf near the basin is set for a mixed-use redevelopment blending housing, workspace, and public waterfront.
