There was a duck living in one of our lower pots (see above first photo…) she’d made a nest there and had been sitting there very quietly for a long, long time. Well. Yesterday they hatched- all nine of them. And then today (they waste no time) they all leapt off the boat- one by one, following mother duck. Then they simply swam off and around the boat and made a little camp for themselves on the mud-bank. I sat and watched them for ages, the baby chicks following mother duck around and being very cute. I noticed two were particularly pathetic, and one just kept rolling over in the mud- it couldn’t hack the cruel reality of the non-nest world. And then it kept running under it’s mum and wriggling. Eventually I had to stop watching them and get on with some work. Next time I went out (some 70minutes later) the ducklings were 2 down, only 7 left. So Pat and I scoured the banks to find the lost two but couldn’t, and eventually found one. So Pat rescued him from the mud, as he had clearly been abandoned by his family and was looking very peeky. And now he’s in a box surrounded by some earth and duck-down from the nest and with a small saucer of water next to him. (or her). But all the little duckling does is shiver- so I’m not sure he/she’ll make it. Maybe I should name it, then I don’t have to worry about the gender so much…. Cheepy- Peeky Cheepy. (Although there’s not much cheeping going on at the moment). Cheepy will need warmth, love, water and eventually worms.
SHITSTICKS
I knew it would be bad, but I didn’t know it would be quite as GRUESOME as this. So, in February they turfed out the friendly eco-village gang who lived on the plot of land opposite our mooring in order to commence building a new development. The thing is, they haven’t realised that their plot is actually in Brentford.
Check it out:
IT’S IN BRENTFORD.
BRENTFORD, BRENTFORD, BRENTFORD, BRENTFORD. (See how it’s just vanished from the map! How funny!)
When did the world go mad? When was it decided that holding a jacket over your shoulder using just one finger would be an exciting way to live? This delightful contraption, that has been beautifully designed to look just like a boat (you can tell from the fact that it’s made only of glass and emeralds) will be my new view. But doesn’t it look like a boat, though? You can almost see Leornardo and Kate strung-up on the penthouse, sipping champagne (from their local Morrisons) through those narrowed, sexy-beady eyes! SEXY! Skips ahoy! Let’s give the chumps a home! In BRENTFORD!
POOR, jellied-eeled, silenced, lovely, old, industrial, scabby and above all, CONFUSED, Brentford. It deserves better. (I could write a dissertation on this but I’m reigning it in).
kaputski!
I’m clearly writing too often, which is probably boring. Still, just an update- the pump: KAPUT. I have tapped/slapped/poked and prodded it at various points during the day to day, as no water comes out otherwise (before it started OK and then needed a prod, now- no prod no action). But the final tap did nothing, and nothing has come out or gyrated or wiggled since. Not a peep from the pump since the final nudge. (Now I think about it, I remember the pump suddenly became very animated over night- rumbling and clicking and hissing in the distance). So I filled up a bucket, a jug, another jug and a water bottle from the tap outside to keep me going over night- one for cooking, one for drinking, one for weeing (not to wee in, to flush down the wee I mean- maybe this is a little more information than anyone really needs?). SO- tomorrow, a new pump needs to be purchased. I also had an issue with the communal toilet on the mooring which involved me not being able to flush it, and then a pile of furniture and toilet paper falling in it when I turned my back to get a bucket to flush it with (hence the idea for the on-boat bucket). So all round, an eventful evening. Oh, and I also had a dinner of one-pot water cooking, to keep with the ‘water-in-pots’ theme of the night. Corn on the cob, boiled egg and asparagus. All cooked in one pot!
the water situation
I’ve had a long and prosperous day, which started with me waking up late after a very good sleep. Anyway, I set off this morning via the very special botanical gardens on my doorstep- it was very decadent. I had a cappuccino and a chelsea bun for breakfast. And I sighed with joy at this new life I’m leading. Last night I was tucked up with a good book by 11.15 and was privy to a boat load of revelers turning around outside my porthole. They were dancing away on the Thames. Anyway, all of this has nothing to do with anything. Except that I had a lovely night last night and a good morning, and then when I got home this evening there was, would you believe it, a live fireworks display courtesy of one of the boats over the river which was having some sort of low-tide celebration. So on the mud banks between our boat and theirs, some poor soul was tasked with setting alight the display and running (maybe swimming?) back to their boat. The fireworks were pretty impressive actually- not just bog standard home fireworks but quite professional. So, this was marvelous, and I looked out over the water wearing my new ‘dutch barge shoes’ that Pat bought me and thought, ‘oh-ay, oh-ay! ’tis a sailors life for me!’ and that was nice.
Then I came back in after the display, parched. So off I went to the tap, as you do, to get a drop of water. Well, a drop turned out to be optimistic, for there was nothing. Not a drop. The pesky pump. But it’s late, and Pat’s away, and I miss him anyway, but when he’s not here, then I have to be the one to poke the pump and sometimes that can be a chore. So anyway, it all became very complicated. Because it’s night time and there is no light in the wheelhouse, so first things first- I needed to get a torch. And I know where all the torches are because I made a system of storage for them all when I unpacked. I was determined to always have torches to hand for precisely this sort of situation. So I find the torch- I find five torches. But do any of them actually work? Of course not. So then I start looking for batteries and suddenly this is all becoming very convoluted. I want a glass of water, but first I must find the batteries to put in the torch to illuminate the engine room (which does have a light but I can’t find the light switch) so that I can get to the pump to poke it so that the water will come out of the taps again and fill my glass. Well, in the end I found the batteries and put them in and had to go down the scary engine hole, crawl through the engine bits and give the pump a good slap. That did the trick, so then I filled up a big bottle of water to keep me going so I don’t have to make any more visits to the scary engine hole tonight. It’s preferable to go in the morning.
All of this is a good reminder that whilst it’s very romantic and beautiful on a boat, there will always be holes to contend with and pumps to poke.
come the chickens!
Today we received gifts in clay-form! Many, many pots and mugs and beautiful bowls with birds on them. Mum made them all for us so that everything we have in the kitchen could be BESPOKE!!! SO BESPOKE is our boat. It’s like a ’boutique’ boat. If it was an advertising agency it would be a ’boutique’ advertising agency, with a ‘holistic’ approach to tableware. Or maybe that doesn’t make sense. Anyway, they are gorgeous. Mum say’s “they are organic things, because they are not industrial looking, they are made by hand. They are chunky and delicate at the same time, with a hint of naivety. Especially the bird bowls because they look chickens instead of birds”. We are proud to have them. She also adds “If anyone would like to buy some, I can make more!’
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