Forty eight hours afloat have achieved their magic. My neighbour can live. Though if some disaster befell her I might struggle to feel guilty. I don’t want to go home tomorrow. I want to stay here, to continue cleaning das Boot with my new power hose that connects to the submersible pump.
I knew the outside of das Boot was dirty. I had not appreciated it was filthy. Standing on the foredeck I rediscovered the colour of the non-slip covering. It took a while. The splash back from the jet meant my feet and legs were quickly very wet.
Then I realised my head and my shoulders were wet too. Odd. I turned off the hose and registered it was raining. Not very hard, and I thought it might pass, so I continued
The rain fell harder and faster. I was soaking wet. I stopped, went inside das Boot and began to shiver. Decision time. I clambered wetly over the deck, unplugging and disconnecting my gear. Inside, it sat in a bucket, in the basin, dripping. I gathered dry clothes and headed for the shower.
The evening turned fine with a wonderful sunset I did not photograph. I socialised with some new neighbours who kept the wine glasses topped up. They admired das Boot and my cleaning efforts.
You can still see the stripe of cleaned deck against the darker dirtier uncleaned bit. If I were to stay, I should continue. But tomorrow means home, and the task before I leave is another temporary repair of the rear cover. I have thick polythene, I have gaffer tape. It should work.