Bring Out Another Thousand

I am wondering if Blogsy can work its magic and upload a post when again I have a doubtful connection. Thanks for the comments on yesterday’s post. I replied to a few before the connection was lost. It’s a bit breezy this evening, so that may explain the intermittent signal.

But what a glorious evening. The morning was dull at first, then the sun broke through. I was out on the road, collecting my repaired boat cover, and parting with more cash than you would think necessary. Not for nothing do they say that boat stands for Bring Out Another Thousand.

By the time I got back, after a lunch with another boater who had accompanied me, at her house, the sun was doing its stuff and the day was hot. MasterB had found a cool spot on the floor and was stretched out full length. I did a bit more power washing but stopped when I realised a) MasterB was cowering in the bathroom, and b) the window seals on the port side of the rear cabin do not seal. There was an alarming flood right by the electrics. A bit of action with an old toothbrush around the window frames made me feel better, and MasterB resumed his stretched out position.

The trouble with boat cleaning is that you find all the bits that need attention. My list gets longer every visit. Not that that is spoiling my enjoyment. The moorhen and her chicks have quit the marina. Instead there is a pair of swans with their lone cygnet. The parents are proud and protective. Never have I seen a cygnet so closely chaperoned. It quite makes me fear for it when the time comes to leave home. In St James’ Park in London, the cygnets, ejected by their erstwhile adoring parents, hang around in an adolescent gang for the next year or so. There’s safety in numbers, and I imagine many lessons about getting on with their peers. What is this lone cygnet going to do? With whom will it learn from its mistakes? Continue reading

Back on the Boat Again

I'm feeling brave. Back on das Boot again with MasterB and I am going to try to upload some pictures. I hope for success. I am resigned to failure.

We left late. First I dilly dallied, then MasterB went to sleep in an inaccessible spot. He had been antsy in the dawn, and I had let him to play around five o'clock. He came inside again at seven, and at first seemed quite lively. I think he sloped off to bed when I was packing my bag.

Today was dull but dry. Not cold. Not hot. I am sitting here on das Boot, still in daylight though it is nine in the evening, with bare feet and most of the windows open.

Good weather for travelling with a cat. A cat who has just emitted a low growl in response to someone on another boat who spoke loudly. It is a boat that is for sale. A bit of a project I'd say, but then isn't every boat, so perhaps they are amking sure the interior looks its best. MasterB has now leapt up onto the seat in the fore cabin, and is looking outside and listening to the neighbour singing. He doesn't seem impressed. The house martins are still swooping about, catching the bugs. I think they are house martins. They have pale bellies and move too quickly to allow much study.

I was surprised how busy the marina was when I arrived. Obviously I am not the only boat owner who does not have a nine to five, Monday to Friday, work routine. But by the time I had carried my stuff abord and let the engine run for fifteen minutes, most of the cars had departed.

MasterB had a little perambulation in his harness. He sniffed intently, and made little mews. Looking at his eyes, he showed no anxiety, so I am guessing the mews were a response to the stimulus.

Going back and forth with my bits and pieces I hadn't noticed the caterpillars. Now with MasterB I realised it was feeding time at the marina.

And it wasn't just the caterpillars.

 

 

Continue reading

A River of Stones Day 10: Titans

Like Titans, the two dustcarts face each other from opposite ends of the street. Both are moving, leaving little room between the parked cars. A man on the pavement stops to look, his head moving slowly from side to side as though watching a low energy tennis match. The cyclists, bright as summer insects in hi-viz jackets, helmeted heads round as bumble bees, move quickly through the middle ground, speeding across the no man’s land where battlelines they will not wait to witness are being drawn up.

Saturday Night at the Marina

I’ve just got back on the boat to find it full of flying insects.

Cat requested shore leave, which turned into a bit of a marathon, me with the headtorch following him as he ranged across the marina.

I made the mistake of leaving boat windows open and a light on. So as I type this, little creatures are running across the keyboard and sitting on the screen.

OMG I’ve just looked at the rug and it is covered. And the ceiling. And the dashboard…

Time to call it a day I think.

Goodnight all.