I am sitting with my feet up having a pre dinner lager. MasterB is having some zzzs. We are at das Boot. How often do I start a post saying where I am I wonder. Quite often I think, and that's quite in the British sense rather than the US sense, so if you are from across the pond, read it as fairly often.
It's a warm evening, I have the windows open. Birds are singing. Someone is speaking quite loudly and his voice carries across the still water. There is virtually no wind. When we arrived md-afternoon after a chat with Janet Eggs a mile or so short of the marina, the place was full of cars, and people were walking up and down. MasterB meowed and I left him in the car with the doors and windows open, but confined to his cat basket while I removed boat covers, turned on electrics and started the engine.
I let him out of his basket then. The people had dispersed. After sitting in the well in front of the car seat while I lifted bags out of the boot, he climbed out onto the grass. Then he had little sniff around, and made towards where I had my stuff piled into the the little trolley. I thought we were about to both move to das Boot, but suddenly someone appeared and MasterB retreated under the car, out of my reach. I kept ferrying stuff to the boat, returning to sit cross legged on the grass near the car and trying to encourage him out. It looked as though he was ready for a long stay.
My food was already aboard but not stowed. It was warm, very warm aboard, and some things needed the fridge. I decided as he didn't seem in any hurry to move that I'd leave him and make sure the yoghurt would be fit to eat tomorrow. I was just putting the last bits away when I heard a jingle behind me, and MasterB climbed onboard. Whether he had decided he'd had enough of the view from under the car, whether he had worried I might not come back, I don't know. But he seemed very calm, and made it clear almost immediately that he was hungry.
He has been purry and relaxed ever since. Truly, he is a wonderful cat and I could not ask for better.
I'm rather hoping for a politics free stay, but as I have already had a Trump!-you-couldn't-make-him-up one with Jax and Ian, the odds aren't great. But I have also watched two Crested Grebes doing a courtship dance, seen the new cygnets and been amazed at how the goslings have grown. A duck had its bottom in the air while it nibbled weed when I started writing this. Rain is due in the night, and a storm tomorrow afternoon, so some onboard ornithology is likely.
I have a couple of hours to decide if I want to try to get the television to work so I can watch part one of The Handmaid's Tale. When I read it back in the early 90s I think, I was appalled at how possible the scenario seemed. In the news this week Indonesia has started public canings. The images of the expectant crowds, the men jostling to get a good view, mobile phone cameras flashing, the women segregated but looking as they expected high entertainment, and the voice over the PA whipping up the excitement, it was a shocking reminder of how fragile respect for human rights is in so many parts of the world, how easily those rights can be eroded or set aside in the name of religion or the public good. The journalist described it as mediaeval. I'd agree. We learned that the man shown being caned for the *crime* of being gay, was then released into the care of his family, who would be responsible for educating him. I dread to think how that will translate. With this sort of dystopia alive and kicking in a country near you, watch or read The Handmaid's Tale and understand democracy is worth fighting for.