Living afloat we sometimes feel apart from the world, separated from hustling bustling life by our slower, quieter pace.
This week we too have watched as history unfolds before us, with the passing of our Queen and accession of King Charles III.
We heard the news of the that the Queen was unwell on the radio via BBC Sounds on my phone. It seemed such an uncharacteristic announcement we knew it must be serious and kept listening until the early evening announcement of her death. We then went to a pub nearby to watch the television coverage.
Sitting there in a pub named after King Charles II, we heard the news of King Charles III’s accession. We watched the crowds arrive outside the Royal palaces, and walked somberly home in the embrace of darkness.
On Friday I was working from the boat discussing with colleagues, as so many others were, how we should respectfully mark the Queen’s death and period of mourning. It is a new situation for us all, a time of many changes and much uncertainty. Seeking put and implementing protocols developed for the occasion was the order of the day. I also enjoyed a marmalade sandwich for lunch of which I feel the Queen and Paddington would have approved.
Steve shared a different aspect of public mourning, travelling as he was, off the boat.
Change will now be a continuous theme for some time – our currency passports, stamps and for us, the beautiful swans with whom we share our daily life. Most of us know that Queen Elizabeth II technically owned all the unclaimed swans in open waters in England and Wales – now they will be the King’s swans.
Technically he also owns all whales, sturgeon, dolphins and propoises under a 1324 statute made by King Edward II . Fortunately I don’t think we’ll encounter any of them on the Grand Union, particularly as we’re almost in the very centre of England now.
I have once again been hugely grateful for the peace and reflective calm being on the water brings, for the quiet and peace to think, reflect on a life so full of duty and service, to feel gratitude and to mourn uninterrupted, for calm in which to process the momentous change which we knew was coming one day but which still feels sudden. It makes me reflect on how much calm and quiet are essential to us all and our wellbeing, particularly at turbulent times.
Pickingupducks 