I had a little problem with my car on the way home, meaning that MasterB and I sat in an isolated lane for around forty minutes waiting for the repairman. Actually MasterB lay and I stood. I moved his cat basket from the car and settled him in the shade of a tree.
The repairman would have been quicker had not the person who answered my call, yes Connor, I do mean you, given the address my mobile phone appeared to be calling from rather than where I said I was. It turns out the two are some five miles apart. The repairman, not finding me, called. He quoted the address he had. I squeaked. He took down the details I gave him. He arrived, and despite a distinct lack of underpants on top of his overalls, diagnosed and fixed the problem. Continue reading
A tranquil evening on das Boot. MasterB, a hot cat, is stretched out on the floor; mischief far from his mind. The swans are nibbling and seeking out weedy morsels below the water’s surface; they look like icebergs, or, sometimes, synchronised swimmers.
The Shouty Man is here and I am unsuccessfully blocking out his voice. Somewhere nearby a boy is shouting, and someone else up river is sharing tinny music with us. The sounds carry on the still air. I admit I’d be happier without the Shouty Man or the tinny music. A water tank has just boomed and MasterB has growled and got to his feet. A little while ago a bare chested man paddled by energetically in his canoe.
Although it is just half past eight, I should be happy to call it a day and go to bed soon. Maybe the Shouty Man and his remarkably silent companions will head for the pub.
It’s Mrs Grebe’s turn on the nest. Her two hatched babies have just tucked themselves among her feathers.
Aunt was charmed. I picked her up late morning and we drove through the back roads. She hasn’t been out and about much recently so we made a day of it and the greenery and the fields brought a smile to her face. She exclaimed repeatedly at the beauty of the countryside; the comforting chill of the car. At Reach, I suggested sitting in the pub garden, and we found a table in the shade of a tree by a mass of lavender in flower. There was a light breeze. She pronounced it perfect even before we had established if the pub could meet her gluten free requirements.
I tempted her with a white wine spritzer. Aunt was tea total until Mother and I corrupted her and she discovered a taste for Vinho Verde. However, she settled on an orange and soda and I had a grapefruit and soda. Long, cool and wonderfully refreshing.
It’s a moot point if this will load. I appear to have an Internet connection, but not a strong enough one to allow me to access anything. But if that is the price of being at das Boot for the first time since last autumn so be it.
The spiders have taken over. I dislodged dozens of them this afternoon, but then I went ashore to chat with some friends and I think they all came back. There’s a huge one making a web across the ceiling right now. There are also lots of irritating insects so I am hoping the spider will eat well tonight.
Das Boot is dewinterised, the tank is full, and the engine has purred for a short while, meaning I have both hot water and and a flushing loo.
I was reluctant to start the engine. Grebes are nesting less than ten feet from das Boot. I was worried about disturbing them and letting the wee ones become supper for the pike whose nickname is Moby. Draw your own conclusions.
However, I was assured the grebes would not mind in the least, and so it proved. They have two babies and three more eggs. They seem to sit in shifts. The one not sitting fussily reinforces the nest with weed. The babies are fed with the utmost tenderness. I am cursing my decision not to bring the proper camera.