Marina Evening

My recycling bag after a few days at das Boot suggests Bacchanalian evenings, and massive fruit consumption. The fruit consumption would be about right. I was reading and nibbling at a newly washed bunch of grapes this evening, only to realise suddenly I had eaten the lot. The impressive number of empty wine bottles is rather more deceptive. I brought two almost empty ones from London. Or rather one almost empty one (it turned out to have barely enough to cover the bottom of the glass), and one somewhat less than half full. Those are the two empties in the recycling. Then there are two lager cans, so I feel quite justified in quaffing a glass of Chianti tonight, toasting the evening and das Boot, wishing I could stay on and didn't have to return home tomorrow.

Geese are flying overhead in a V formation, noisily talking as they go. The cuckoo has stopped singing. But the swifts and swallows are swooping about, grazing the surface of the water, munching the numerous insects. The light is fading from the sky, leaving streaks of pale blue and silver tinged with pink. Only three weeks to mid summer and the evening is long and warm.

I'd post pictures, but Blogsy seems strangely reluctant to allow them, so it's all prose when afloat until I can work out what that's about. I'll try including one that has seen the light of blog before and see if that works.

This morning started bright and then turned cold. I was off to the cemetery to meet Nial and Janet, friends of Mother and Aunt. Both have agreed, with Linda, to tend to Aunt's grave. They had seeds for wild flowers that should attract butterflies and bees, but we thought lavender would be good too, and so went to Tuddenham Nursery, a place new to me, and somewhere I wish I could have taken Aunt in those last months. We chose plants, including one for the place where my father's ashes are interred, then went into the admirable café for refreshments, before heading back to the cemetery for some planting. Just three plants made all the difference. We'll get more, but immediately the headstone looked softer, Aunt's spirit seemed to approve choices, and we gazed upon it with a mixture of emotion and satisfaction. Unsurprisingly much of our conversation was about Aunt and her funeral, her determination to die in her own home, the wonderful support from Linda and Rita which made that possible.

Well I wrote that about ninety minutes ago before MasterB signalled he wanted shore leave. The Chianti is more welcome than ever as he wasn't in his harness, and I made the mistake of looking away as he approached the undergrowth that separates the marina from the neighbouring farm, I looked down to see the tip of his tail disappearing where I could not follow. He must have enjoyed himself. I didn't. Forty-five anxious minutes until I heard the slight jingle of a bell and his nose peeped out at me. I'd had visions of spending the night watching the bank, making sure he came home safe; other visions where he was hurt, trapped; that I never saw him again. To say I was pleased to see him is an understatement. He was rather full of himself and skipped away so it was several minutes before I had him in his harness. Another twenty before I pulled the plug on his explorations and bore him back to das Boot. Yes, I'm proud of him. Yes, I am glad he had his moments of freedom. No, he will not be going out at the marina without his harness on tomorrow. The evening does not feel quite as peaceful as it did earlier on. And I am very glad that the Cat of the blog is alive and aboard das Boot with me right now.

 

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10 thoughts on “Marina Evening

  1. I do like the composition and color in that pic of the Master striding down his landing. And what a changed MasterB from the other week – I do believe he has decided the marina is part of his territory now. How brave for him and how anxiety inducing for you.

    • He had only been ashore a few minutes when another boater who I thought was just doing some cleaning came towards us with a load of stuff to put in her Land Rover. Fortunately I had my car keys, so popped MasterB inside until the *danger* had passed. Said boater, Mandy, and I chatted for a few minutes. She and her partner are fairly new to the marina, and so far all we had done is wave and smile at each other. They have an aged Jack Russell who is deaf and blind, and wears a buoyancy aid all the time she’s near or on the water. As they were packing up the car ready to leave, I joined MasterB in my car until they left. He spied on them like a particularly keen feline police officer in a stakeout.
      This morning he gazed intently at the water where the Crested Grebe had dived. So yes, I think he’s got the hang of the place now.

    • When there is no one around it’s great for him to have shore leave, but quite a lot of people have dogs, and often the don’t have them on the lead, which means he is confined as the last thing I want is for him to be chased by an excited hound.

  2. Love the picture of MasterB. I also enjoyed hearing that you thought Aunt’s spirit approved the choices made for her headstone and plants. Loved the idea of lavender. She is missed… and your Mother too of course. I am glad MasterB found his way back to you… whew!

  3. I have been thinking of you and hoping that all is well (as can be expected) after the terrorist attack. I have surmised that London Bridge isn’t that far from where you live and I have been worried that you were out and about – in the wrong place at the wrong time. Are you okay?

    • Thanks Pat. I am fine. I was at home having an early night on Saturday, but you are right, London Bridge is pretty close, and you may have seen my local MP being interviewed on the television as it’s the same constituency.
      There has been a bemused reaction here to the New York Times where there was a headline saying Britain was reeling. Er, no. So go to Twitter and search the hashtag #thingsleaveBritainreeling and you will find lots of humour. After the Manchester attack, Dan Hett, whose brother Martyn was killed responded with immense humanity and humour. This piece is well worth reading https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2017/may/26/heroic-black-humour-hatred-choose-british-values

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