The Autumn equinox and Michaelmas Day this past week have shepherded us fully into Autumn. The winds are blowing the leaves from the trees and days of rain are swelling our waterways once more. We can only hope none of this water bounty is being wasted and reservoirs are gradually filling once more.
The return of rain after such a long dry summer seems a novelty still, and there was another momentous change for us this week too. For the first time since the pandemic struck I found myself working face to face. This wasn’t a return in any gradual way – no spacious eating with just a few people – nope, this was to an event in a theatre with large auditorium yes, but also lots of compact dressing rooms, and a VIP reception providing big and small spaces to come face to face with many strangers.
I arrived amid squalls of rain which blustery gusts made sure left me dripping. Introducing myself to colleagues I’ve only ever worked with online was a damp experience. We had all formed mental pictures of each other and somehow seemed surprised that we were taller/shorter than expectations. Everyone seemed taken aback by the weather, and I was taken aback by their lack of weather awareness. Many seemed unaware that rain had been forecast, had moved from their homes to cars, to car park and then to venue without experiencing the elements. Even their cars turned their windscreen wipers on, so they didn’t have to consciously do that.
It struck me that weather watching, adapting life to what the weather brings is a fundamental difference between boat dwellers and many others. If I was working with others whose jobs and lives are shaped by the weather like for example farmers or fisherman, I might not stand out so much.
We boaters though are aware of the weather, prepared to adapt, ready to reach for the waterproofs at a moment’s notice. We evaluate showers as coat only or waterproof trousers too, demanding we don the lightweight showerproof or the full force foulies.
Living amid the elements so closely as we do seems to make us more attune to the numerous times a day that the weather changes.
I write this to the accompaniment of pattering rain falling on the canal from the skies above with deeper splatters as drops are shaken into the water from the trees opposite by suddenly noisy buffeting winds. Behind the dripping high hedge there’s a lane running parallel to the towpath. Cars which we wouldn’t notice in fine weather now wetly herald their approach and huge splashes that follow as they pass indicate some localised flooding.
Earlier today the same sky that’s now a dull shade of grey was pink, yellow and red streaming from an orange sun. It was beautiful. We boaters learn too to live in, and appreciate the moment.
We knew that it would turn. We had checked the weather forecast online as we always do, and besides that sunrise clearly told us ‘red in the morning, shepherds warning.’ The weather helps us decide what to do, and how to live.
This week we need a moving day, a day when we move on from this mooring to find another. The maximum we can stay on this mooring spot is 14 days, which will take us to the start of next week, as we have work to do next week.
Before work we want to be settled in our new location with the WiFi signal checked and working well. That means we need to move before Sunday. Friday was an option but the forecast suggested we would have a wet and windy journey, so we look to choose a day when it is at least dry.
Particularly so as we’ve had a coat saga. I’ve spent the last two weeks trying to mend my disreputable looking by waterproof coat.. the zip gave way at the end of the Spring when put under strain as I stepped up to climb across a lock. It then refused to stay zipped up. I dismantled the zip, recrossed the zipper and put it all back together again. That didn’t work. I resorted to an old leather belt cynched round the waist – held the coat shut in part but the rain still snuck in through many now-accessible spots. The cost for a replacement zip to be fitted seems more than a new coat. I have put the coat on one side to await the next visit to family with a sewing machine when hopefully I can borrow a machine and install a new zip myself.
In the meantime we will move in the dry. If we do get caught in a sudden squall we can at least enjoy the sheer sensual pleasure of sitting and working from our floating home by the warmth of the wood burner which is now lit, and it’s cooking a casserole too. We’ve got the fire lit to keep us warm and dry clothes and dog so that fuel can work twice for us and save gas too.
It also means it’s cosy for me to sort seeds for Seed Swap Sunday and if we feel like it, feel pampered for another day we found marked on the Milton Keynes Rose which maybe relevant (or not!)!!!
Pickingupducks 