At last, a bright sunny day and blue skies. Oh how good to be alive.
Yesterday afternoon, the rain slowed from a steady downpour, to a few drips, to the odd patch of blue sky between the grey grey clouds. And suddenly, it was a lovely evening.
Not Cat, who has been getting cabin fever, stayed out until bedtime, and then had to be carried in. He was a happy cat. There’s something of the Puss in Boots about him in this photo. Continue reading
The chances of posting today are so slim as to be non-existent. Maybe it’s the weather (windy with some rain, the warmer side of cold, but only just) but the Internet does not want to come out to play. It is probably curled up somewhere snug with a good book.
I’ve just had some cocoa and the last of my hot cross buns, put my book aside and am reflecting on the day. Outside the fenders are squeakily doing their job as the wind continually pushes the boat against the pontoon. Ducks fly over head and the starlings are squabbling in the tree behind me. Two swallows have just danced by, or could they be house martins? The sky is full of sulky pale grey cloud. The weeping willows, so calm and graceful on warm days, are moving like a green frothy tide in the buffeting wind. Continue reading
I woke just after five. Not Cat was crying. I felt drugged by sleep, so it was a few moments before I got up to see what the problem was. He purred at me, got as close to my legs as possible and pointed his nose to the fore cabin. Whatever he had seen had gone. Probably a feral cat, but maybe some more exotic creature. We looked out into the still dark fields and then went back to bed. I woke a bit later to the sound of rain. Rain is a great excuse to curl up under the quilt and sleep a bit longer when I am here. I knew the noisy man had been out for the evening and had come back, with wife and the sad couple after midnight. I had heard him shouting as they crunched over the gravel. It seemed likely he would not up and yelling too early. So it turned out. I was up and about for some time before he made an appearance.
Out of politeness, I said hello and made some small talk. He shouted. I wished I had limited myself to a wave. I suddenly remembered that he was one of those who like to patronise. I have noticed it with a few men here. They get a boat and think all of a sudden they are admiral of the fleet, possibly the new Horatio Nelson. Their wives amaze me when they say they never helm their boats. They have never had the chance. They are always crew.
Fairly obviously, I don’t quite fit their idea of a proper boat owner. Fortunately, there are other, more evolved men here too. Continue reading
Despite dreadful weather forecasts, I plan to go East tomorrow and spend a few days on das Boot. I haven’t been there for ages, so I shall have to wrestle it back from the spiders.
Not Cat will be with me of course. I bought him (yet another) harness, and if it is quiet, maybe we can have a few practice walks. He wasn’t terribly impressed when I put it on him the other day.
I need to pack some toys for indoor play. If only I could work out how to fold down the hideous cube, he would be able to enjoy it.
However, seeing him engrossed in a game with some silver paper in the garden reminds me he also enjoys simpler pleasures.
A year ago I was on das Boot. Back at home, I had a stack of paperwork to attend to. Over on the Scroobius Pip’s page she has a similar story. http://thescroobiuspip.com/2011/11/26/clearing-clutter
This November, apart from the heated towel rail in the bathroom, I’ve yet to out my heating on.
I took this photos in the garden today. They are my usual subjects – plants, Not Cat.
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I usually bath before bedtime. Showers are more of a morning activity.
But it’s only just gone six thirty, and yet here I am, newly out of the bath, in comfy clothing, and my hair still damp.
I didn’t just wash my hair. I did that this morning, and no, it hasn’t stayed wet all day.
Imagine the headlines in the tabloids. Well, no I can’t quite either, but they’d probably have a word like freak in there somewhere.
I have been working in a glass building today. The sort where you shouldn’t throw stones. Magnificent when it rains and you can watch the water cascading down the sloping roof above you. Which I did periodically this afternoon.
Then it got to the time when I could begin thinking about going home. The cascading water was spectacular. I admired it some more and looked out at the grey clouds. Thunder and lightning joined in. Lots of wow factor.
Hail stones bounced noisily down the roof. Mega wow.
I cycled to work, so it was logical I should cycle home again. I had my waterproofs with me after all.
Half an hour passed. Teasingly, the rain would pause for a few seconds, but it was only taking a deep breath, ready to renew its downpour. Continue reading
Due the bike, I’m listening to the local forecast in the morning with a different ear.
I’m not keen on getting drenched, so heavy rain means the bus, but intermittent showers sounds like meteorological Russian roulette. It could be that I’m home and dry before the heavens open, but I try to reckon the odds of being caught and arriving at work with shoes full of water before I leave the bus pass at home. Continue reading
May 1990. Or maybe June.
Friends from Barcelona arriving to spend two months doing courses and travelling.
I write in those days before email, a series of letters; bulletins from a London where time has gone backwards towards winter. Bring your warm clothes I say. Summer has been cancelled. I am in thick black tights and warm jumpers. Gloves.
They read, believe and pack their skiwear; grateful they are bringing the car for all these unplanned layers.
Two days before they arrive, the sun wakes up and shines all its energy on England.
Heatwave.
This is hotter than Barcelona, they say. The skiwear ridiculous now, not prudent.
May 2010. The days are grey and cold. Friends from Barcelona are due next week. Will the magic work again?
By good luck, and great timing on my parents’ part, I was born on 1st May, which an enlightened government a few decades ago decided should be a Bank Holiday to celebrate Labour Day, which may have made Mother feel her efforts bringing me into the world had at last been recognised.
The only down side is that lots of people take off for the weekend, so you can feel a Billy-No-Mates if you want to celebrate the day.
Well, that’s my excuse for coming east for das Boot with Cat.
We got here yesterday evening after a journey that was less grim than I had anticipated. The forecast for the weekend was so dreadful, maybe some people decided to stay home and clean the windows. It did rain in the night, but today has been gorgeous. One of those absolutely perfect spring days. I forgot my camera or I’d nauseate you with pictures of trees in full blossom; bluebells; little goslings; blue blue skies with wispy clouds; roads where trees parade every shade of green; fields of acidic yellow rape.
Cat stayed aboard while I spent the day with Mother. She was on form, only getting our relationship in a muddle as the afternoon drew to a close. We opened the door into the garden; chose places to hang some pictures; lunched in sunshine and drank quantities of apple juice.
‘What do you call this?’ asked Mother.
‘Apple juice.’
‘It’s lovely. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of it.’
Her joy in ‘discovering’ apple juice every time she has it, is about the only positive thing about her dementia. My aunt had bought a card and some chocolates for her to give me. I had to thank her and gently take them out of her hands before she opened them.
Now it’s a quiet evening on das Boot with Cat and the crossword. I’ve eaten a huge meal and friends are coming tomorrow.
The rain has just started. I’d batten down the hatches if I had any. As it is I’m making do with shutting the doors and the windows. Apparently we’re in for a huge storm at about four in the morning.
Not Cat’s favourite weather conditions, so it may be quite a night.
I’ve decided to save the champagne until tomorrow.
