Captain’s Log: Sunday

I wrote this last night,but could not post as I had no internet. Surprisingly,this morning, which is wild,cold and wet, I’m able to get online. I hope it lasts and I may be able to post again later.

Well, we had a lovely day. Not the weather; that was resolutely grey, threatening, and occasionally delivering, rain, cold, and generally sulky. But Octavia made her first trip to das Boot and on it, with Older Nephew piloting, me on coffee, washing up and other Anneish activities as in the Famous Five. It is my boat after all, so it is only right and proper that I should be the chief wielder of duster, wet wipe, and wearer of rubber gloves.

We drank an impressive amount of alcohol while still remaining coherent and relatively sober. What that says about our livers I don’t know, and I’m not sure I want to know. MasterB, who had been distressed during parts of the car journey, voiding his bladder and bowels somewhere near Bow, spent most of the journey to the pub, The Shippe at Brandon Creek, where we enjoyed a very late but satisfactory lunch, under the pillows in the rear cabin. On the journey back to the marina he was keener to be near us, albeit hidden from view in a citadel of cushions in the fore cabin.

Older Nephew piloted skilfully, and once we regained the marina, he drove away with Octavia, leaving her at the train station in Cambridge. Essayist from both suggest they have got home safe and sound.

Tomorrow, from around 4am, heavy rain is forecast, so we may not go ashore again until Tuesday, my birthday, when the forecast was for sunshine, but now seems to be for more rain. I had planned to stay until Wednesday, but if the weather is unrelentingly miserable we may return to the Smoke earlier.

The rain will however will be my get out clause for cleaning das Boot tomorrow. I’m not sure how I feel about starting this Herculean task as I clock up another year. I should like to visit Aunt’s grave, so maybe the cleaning can wait a few weeks. Maybe Older Nephew would like to help. Or maybe not.

Bizarrely, none of the lights in the rear cabin are working. This seems more than a coincidence, so I am guessing there is a problem with the circuit, though how to diagnose, let alone fix it, is to me a mystery as deep as rocket science. It does rule out the reading in bed I had planned.

Left to ourselves afloat, MasterB and I are listening to Natacha Atlas (my choice, not his) and while he has eaten his chicken, I am still wondering what to have for supper. The later it gets, the more beans on toast seems the answer. Having typed that I am thinking of noodles, but whatever I am going to have, I need to get a move on.

Hopefully I shall post more from days Boot in the next couple of days, and being for the most part away from the news, those posts may not be cries of pain at whatever outrage the UK government has committed against the citizens of this benighted country.

Sweet dreams.

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