The rain is streaming down the windows. We got afloat in a window of pale blue skies and light winds. MasterB walked to das Boot on his harness, having a good sniff around, and deciding that as the cows were in the field he preferred to got on board earlier rather than later. Which was a bit of a shame I thought, as no one was around, no sign of any feral cats, the rain we had been driving through had stopped, and it was a lovely evening. Maybe tomorrow. But despite the fact that I forgot to bring an adequate supply of his favourite biscuits, he has been and is being a little star.
To those of you who have heard and believed that cats are aloof, standoffish, users, it may stretch your belief when I say he’s a great little companion. But he is. I sometimes (make that always) feel guilty about bringing him to das Boot where he has a mch more restricted life, but his being here makes it so very much better. Right now he’s alternately dozing and listening to the sounds of the birds beyond the boat. I have the curtains open, and when a bird flies past his attention is caught.
For the first time in years I decided to connect up the television. At first I couldn’t get a signal, but after shifting the aerial a programme about dogs suddenly filled the screen. Perfect to cook to, and it was still going when I sat down to eat. I even got to watch Power Monkeys, but as BBC1&2 seem off limits, news night is forbidden me, so I’m using the DVD player to play a Paul Weller CD. Pretty blissful. I could get a bundle of CDs from the car, but I think I’ll leave that until tomorrow after completing the cat biscuit run. MasterB’s nose is close to my left elbow. He is purring, and I cannot think of anyone I should rather have with me, though Older Nephew may drop by tomorrow. Celia Hammond’s charity dropped me like a hot brick when I said I brought Cat to das Boot, but I don’t believe the most rigorous home inspector could say MasterB was unhappy or deprived when he’s here. It wouldn’t do as a permanent arrangement; it’s too small, and I am too anxious about him falling into the water to give him much freedom, but he’s stimulated by the sights and smells; he knows which boat is his and leads me to it from the car.and he must be benefiting from me being more relaxed, chilling a bit after the events of the past two weeks, enjoying the isolatation, the silence, the pared-down-ess of it.
I still want François Hollande or Angela Merkel to say we can have time to think this over and come to our senses, but it doesn’t sound likely. The Labour Party seems intent on tearing itself apart; Tory candidates are putting themselves forward to run the country. I never imagined the day when Theresa May, who if I remember correctly is not too keen on the EU human rights act from which we have benefitted, might seem a positive choice for PM. Strange strange times.
But the countryside was still green and pleasant. Driving through East London I saw people of every hue with each other, smiling, chatting, not showing any of the hate and tension that has been reported elsewhere. Maybe it’ll all work out. I do hope so. In the meantime, for me, I hope the water, the boat, time alone, will do some healing for my heart that feels broken by this referendum result and its aftermath in ways I should have never anticipated.
Tomorrow I shall head to the nearest town to get MasterB a stock of biscuits he likes. Because, in the end, there are always cats.