I can’t believe it’s a week since we gave up the relative safety of our onland home. We have lots of thanks yous – to my parents and to Lynn in particular for their support.
This is utter madness. Just as winter’s looming we take possession on 35 tons of waterborne metal to live upon. The journey this week has been one of laughter and tears, and lots of tired, terse communications – when we could actually communicate with the outside world. The problems we have faced have all been niggles and resolvable, with the exception of broadband access, which has totally NOT lived up to promise – the absence of it has had me tearing my hair out and often tearful, and I’m resisting the temptation to vent my frustrations here.
Our exit from ‘home’ was fraught and despite having halved our possessions, an attic load of unimportant important stuff (like children’s pictures) descended throwing us into disarray – I had no idea that we had so much stuff. (We are still opening and moving boxes onboard, which gives a feel of temporariness.) The treated water tank has tainted our water supply, which we were promised wouldn’t happen.
But these are niggles. ‘Grace and Favour’ arrived in dramatic style on Monday evening, apparently having been photographed by half of Reading. She had taken three attempts to heave from the water onto the truck, meaning that she, the escort and David, the seller, didn’t arrive until very late. Her descent into the waters of the Thames, where she is now afloat with us on board, was suitably dramatic and I hope to share the films soon. She was a little grubby and her paint has rubbed after the journey, something we’ll fix up this weekend. As someone said to us before we embarked on this adventure: “canal boating is a contact sport – be prepared to repaint regularly.”
We have now started looking at names for her. Perhaps we should run a poll!