I am wondering if Blogsy can work its magic and upload a post when again I have a doubtful connection. Thanks for the comments on yesterday’s post. I replied to a few before the connection was lost. It’s a bit breezy this evening, so that may explain the intermittent signal.
But what a glorious evening. The morning was dull at first, then the sun broke through. I was out on the road, collecting my repaired boat cover, and parting with more cash than you would think necessary. Not for nothing do they say that boat stands for Bring Out Another Thousand.
By the time I got back, after a lunch with another boater who had accompanied me, at her house, the sun was doing its stuff and the day was hot. MasterB had found a cool spot on the floor and was stretched out full length. I did a bit more power washing but stopped when I realised a) MasterB was cowering in the bathroom, and b) the window seals on the port side of the rear cabin do not seal. There was an alarming flood right by the electrics. A bit of action with an old toothbrush around the window frames made me feel better, and MasterB resumed his stretched out position.
The trouble with boat cleaning is that you find all the bits that need attention. My list gets longer every visit. Not that that is spoiling my enjoyment. The moorhen and her chicks have quit the marina. Instead there is a pair of swans with their lone cygnet. The parents are proud and protective. Never have I seen a cygnet so closely chaperoned. It quite makes me fear for it when the time comes to leave home. In St James’ Park in London, the cygnets, ejected by their erstwhile adoring parents, hang around in an adolescent gang for the next year or so. There’s safety in numbers, and I imagine many lessons about getting on with their peers. What is this lone cygnet going to do? With whom will it learn from its mistakes?
I still can’t decide if the swooping fork tailed birds are martins or swallows. They are so fast, there is no chance of seeing their faces. I don’t have an insect book, so haven’t been able to identify the bee striped caterpillars, and today’s little drama was the ingress of a creature that looked like a very large dragonfly when we were driving from St Ives to Ely. I felt something crash by me and caught a glimpse of autumnal gold. Something has just flown in, I said. The next moments were cinematic. The insect whizzed by J’s ear and fluttered hugely against the windscreen, before heading once more for the back seat. It was a while before I could pull over. It shot out of the window, heading back the way we had come. I am guessing it was more inconvenienced than we were, and I amused myself imagining the explanations it would give its partner about why it had been out for so long.
J and her husband I, have bees. I remarked they were busy. I expected her to say they were always busy. Instead, she exclaimed they were very busy indeed today. We watched, and I asked her if she had bought them or if they had found her. The latter. Apparently, and apologies to all of you who already know this, once you have a hive, you put up a taster hive on your house. Scouter bees investigate, and if they like what they see, they bring a swarm. It’s like estate agenting for bees. The mini hive is like a To Let sign.
Meanwhile in the insect house, a leaf cutter bee was busy sealing the place it had laid its eggs with a leaf. While we sat in the garden, a furry bee of the bumble variety settled on my sleeve and appeared to nod off.
The fish have been leaping, at least the big ones have. The little ones swim close to the boat. I looked them up once, but now I forget the name. A female pheasant wandered by the shower block, and every now and then the geese in the neighbouring fields set up a raucous cackling. I’ve heard neither cuckoo nor woodpecker. There seems an absence of ducks, and for the moment the marina is fairly dog free, so MasterB has had several bits of shore leave.
I go home tomorrow. There’s work on Saturday, thennext week I am off to the Emerald Isle and more family time.
It’s not a bad life.