Staying chilled in a metal box isn’t easy, and that’s basically what our steel narrowboat is. Here in Leicestershire, where we’re bobbing about on the River Soar, temperatures are exceeding those currently in Mexico and the Canary Islands – according to my irrefutable source, the Leicester Mercury.
Normally on a river in conditions like these, boaters moor in the shade on a leafy bank, but not us – oh no – we are moored day after day in the blazing sun alongside hardstanding with not a tree on our side of the river. (Having said this – I predict the sun will stop and the rain will start – so those who enjoy being toasted can blame me for the change!)
There is “reason” for our apparent madness, and advantage too. We are on holiday, seeing friends and family, and this is the closest spot to many of them (somehow for the first fortnight we’ve also ended up right next door to a pub with another very excellent pub just up the river by the weir). Hardstanding has been invaluable whilst we were sharing time with a 3-year old, making it much safer getting on and off the boat.
Higher up the river we need to use gangplanks for dog, child and us, and it all becomes a wee bit more complicated. Hardstanding has also been good whilst it’s been cool enough to paint and sand, sand and paint. Jobs done early in the morning before the sun turns the boat to red-hot oven temperatures that dry the paint as it leaves the tin, long before it even meets the steel (also before the scorching hardstanding singes whatever part of your anatomy touches it as you paint).
The roofgarden is cooking from underneath and above, but keeping it cool is nigh impossible. The tomatoes, chillis and marigolds are thriving but everything else is distraught. The marigolds do a great job of keeping the bugs at bay on the boat.
Unfortunately the dog can’t swim from the boat because we can’t get him easily back on board given his age and our height above the waterline, so I walk him into the field for his regular daily swims. I shall consider taking a marigold with me as I am being attacked by beasties rising from the grass and eating me alive!
A donated fan (thanks Jonny), is keeping the hot air circulating through the boat whilst we aren’t cruising, but it’s had us in hysterics. They say things can get lost in translation – but sometimes as you can see, a translation adds such value!
We are taking another plunge in this heat and disposing of everything that a year ago we considered vital to keep and which has been in store. If something on the boat hasn’t been used in the past year it’s off – that’s been easy. What has been tough work – emotional and physical – has been sorting the stuff we put in store a year ago. Most of the items we kept were hugely personal, Mother’s and Father’s Day cards from the children, programmes from every performance they had done, school reports, even baby clothes. We had carefully stored them for decades but after a year they aren’t wanted by the next generation, and we haven’t missed them so – whoosh off they go, box after box. As much as possible has gone to charity shops so others can benefit, but two loads went to the tip. We borrowed a car to do this and have halved what we have in store. I also disposed of all my ‘work gear’ through Vinted liberating enough to buy a new chimney, so the boat is sporting a new look instead of me!
Perhaps next year we’ll come back and have the courage to get rid and move the rather paltry remainder still in store.
It seems appropriate that we are casting off the past this week when so many are talking of Freedom Day and casting off the constraints of lockdown. We know of many who have lost their lives, or had their family life changed forever by Covid. We have been hugely fortunate because this destructive virus hasn’t meant restriction or destruction for us, but freedom. It gave us the push to make changes to the ways we work and live to try to live more freely and more ethically, and as a result we are happier too. For me it isn’t dramatic to say that I realised how much I gain being with Steve 24/7 (I think he’ll concur…but I’ll just check that….). It seemed, in a small way as it may have done to our parents in wartime, that life was very precious and we saw it being snatched away from people through no fault of their own. We wanted to make the most of our time, and for us that was about doing something we’d been talking of as “wouldn’t it be wonderful to…. and if only” for years…living aboard and continuously cruising.
What is freedom to one person isn’t the same to another and many who have caught a glimpse of our lives (now prioritised by 4 daily ws – waste, water, walking and wherewithal for food) have recoiled in horror. For us though it is working right now, and in a very small and humble way we are doing our best to live as Nelson Mandela said:
…to be free is not merely to cast off one’s chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others.
To respect the freedom from illness and to respect the health of others I will continue to wear a mask in enclosed public spaces. We want others to have the chance to enjoy life daily as we are able to do untrammelled by illness or loss. We all deserve to seize what life can offer us if we can.
It is good to be back where we used to live – albeit temporarily – ‘on holiday’. It feels a bit strange, viewing somewhere so familiar through new eyes. It is good to know as this blog goes out we’ll be getting ready to volunteer and run what was our local parkrun at Dishley, Loughborough. We were on the original planning and launch team so it’s fitting we are back as parkruns restart after the pandemic. I will volunteer marshall with Cola on duty alongside me, while Steve will do car parking and then run. As we brought the boat through a lock this morning we were greeted with glee by a parkrunning family whose youngest son will be doing his first parkrun tomorrow – I will cheer him as loudly as I cheer everyone. The restart of parkrun after the pandemic also heralds a change for us in our lives as contiuous cruisers. We’ll be looking for the nearest moorings to parkruns on a Saturday morning on our routes round the country! Wonder how many we can do from a narrowboat?
We also came back to take part as volunteers in our village annual community event, but Covid has struck some of the major sponsors and so sadly it won’t be happening this year. It is good to be here to commiserate in person with those who have spent the past 2 years working so hard to make the event happen. Their fantastic work was dashed by the pandemic last year, and we were all so hopeful for 2021, and now to be blocked yet again is devastating.
For us it’s a minor let down, but we feel their disappointment, and are incredibly sorry for them. As we’ve found in many pandemic-related situations, we are one stage removed. We are detached by the nature of how we now live, our lives and priorities are structured differently. Making sure we have water in the tank and at least one empty loo cartridge are after all, our the main priorities – everything after that is a bonus!
We’ve spent a lot of hugely enjoyable time on land this past fortnight, had some lovely meals out, been strawberry picking and enjoyed quality time with friends and family.
We’ve slept every night on the boat, but I have missed the constant, all day, calming, relaxing movement of the boat on the water. We moved yesterday after the maximum 14-days in one place, so my ’tiller itch’ (it which really is a phenomenon) is relieved. We haven’t gone far, but it’s true that the most amazing views can be just round the corner when you live afloat. There’s much to be thankful for in this world with its many freedoms. It’s good to be back moored without streetlights. It’s good to be back bobbing gently. It’s good to be moored by a weir and there’s a good breeze coming into the boat, so as our wonderful 3 year-old grandson might say, we’re ‘cool dudes’ once more!
P.S. Steve says ‘Yes’ – life’s better for him too even if being with me 24/7 on a 50ft boat!
Pickingupducks 