A week ago I was at the airport, learning that my flight had been delayed and starting the slow return to London after a break in the country where I had been surrounded by fields with cows and fat lambs; wild flowers in the hedgerow; skies that changed from grey to blue and back again; farm buildings and farm machinery a part of the landscape; and greens of all the shades they say make up Ireland.
But hold on a minute, for I am again surrounded by fields, by sheep and cows and hens; there are farm buildings and farm machinery; this morning’s pale skies have become a radiant blue; the hedgerows buzz with bees enjoying the wild flowers; the countryside is swathed in her summer greens. The internet connection is just as erratic as at Cousin’s.
I’m sure Philip Green somewhere in the Med on his million pound yacht, firing off threats to Frank Field, would think this poor sport. Somehow I can’t see him happy with a second hand twenty-five foot inland cruiser that was built in 1980, and he probably has never seen as simple a marina as this one. But I wouldn’t swap my boat for his for all the coffee in Brazil, or this marina for any upmarket mooring on the Côte d’Azur. I may be wrong, but his boat and where he sails it seems to be a message about status and power, showing how he belongs to an exclusive club, the club of the very rich who don’t live by the same rules as the rest of us.
Although when I first came here I expected people with cut glass accents drinking gin on the poop deck when the sun had passed the yard arm, that is very far indeed to how it is. MasterB and I had a short perambulation when we first arrived. He stopped by the place where the abandoned boat used to be. I looked at the ground where I saw what looked just like a cow pat. But the cows were in the field beside the marina, and there’s a fence that stops them coming in. Odd. Later I saw Jax and Ian who came over to continue working on their boat. Did you see the new wire? asked Jax. I looked blank. The cows had trampled down the fence and come to enjoy the greener grass on the other side. Hence the newly fertilised marina and improved fortifications.
I bet that doesn’t happen at Cannes.
Is there anywhere slightly closer to home that Das Boot could be moved to?
Enjoy the moment Isobel it sounds great and a good way to unwind after all those hectic London tours…and I am sure Master B enjoys his occasional visit for a change of scene too!!
I bet it doesn’t happen at Cannes 😀
There is nothing like spending time on a boat. I always enjoyed reading and taking an afternoon snooze on our boat while it was in the slip and I enjoyed being anchored out in a quiet cove much more than buzzing about the lake. I am glad you find so much comfort on das Boot. I remember back in 1995 I was going through a bad time and I really believe it was our boat that kept me sane. Your visits to das Boot have made CH and I think about boating again. Maybe renting a slip at the lake where we used to live… it’s only 20 minutes away. I think the peace of it all would be good for us and I see by reading this it is a joy for you too! Beautiful pictures Isobel… love the country.
Go for it! Living so close you would be able to enjoy it as often as you’d like. Maybe a little dog to accompany you would complete the picture.