Kissing goodbye to ninety-nine tenths of my worldly goods – eek!

I'm telling myself that this is a far, far better option than having been bombed out during the Blitz. No Blitz and no bombs, for one thing!
I'm telling myself that this is a far, far better option than having been bombed out during the Blitz. No Blitz and no bombs, for one thing!
I’m telling myself that this is a far, far better option than having been bombed out during the Blitz. No Blitz and no bombs, for one thing!

I have this day bade farewell, adieu, so long and thanks for all the fish to much more than nine tenths of my worldly goods. Gone, done with, sold for a purse of farthings to two chaps with a pantechnicon, to two chaps who could barely contain their farts of glee as we played negotiation-tennis over an imaginary net.

I am moving onto a narrowboat. Sometime soonish.

Ooh yeah.

I didn’t sell my books. I am sorting through those. A generously slack handful will remain with me.

My CD collection has been decanted into some nifty DJ-style al-yoo-min-ee-um cases, reducing its footprint to a mere shadow of its former shelf-space.

Family photographs have been set aside, as have a few items of memorabilia.

I’ve kept a smidgen of the household Spode, two of my least-flamboyant candelabra, a soupçon of the itemus generalis domesticus, some tools and – for which you will be grateful – all of my wardrobe, including the underwear.

All I require is my sleeping-box, half-full of soil from my native England. Oh, and a cushion for my haemorrhoids.
All I require is my sleeping-box half-full of the fresh, damp soil of my beloved England. Oh, and a cushion for my haemorrhoids.

Oh – and my typewriter, I’ve kept my typewriter. No sense in being a writer sitting on a canal-boat unless I can bang away at a clapped-out old typewriter each day as I watch the world drift past, or as I drift past the world.

Note to self: do a spot of revision on tying knots, to prevent unwanted drifting.

I won’t be just moored up in one place, it is my intention to explore every inch of the network that I can get to. Expect one or two “boatish” posts here.

The task now is to take Occam’s Razor once again to the remaining tenth, and to reduce it by another nine-tenths.

My suspicion is that this final reduction will be harder than the initial reduction!

I won’t quite walk away with a suitcase in each hand, but it won’t be far off that as I dance a jolly jig towards the horizon. One tenth of one tenth of what I previously thought necessary to civilised living will come with me.

Let the boat search begin.

Yep indeedy, I don’t yet have a boat. Oops.

Still, a new episode of “Hutson” awaits, as soon as I find one!

Another complete re-write of the series in fact.

A new story on something about 57′ long and 6′ 10″ wide. Perennially lost somewhere on England’s two-thousand miles of canals. Rushing about at two miles per hour. A tramp upon the water. A traveller without wheels. Once more unto the topmost high-diving board. Shut your eyes, Hutson, and leap off…

Tally ruddy ho, eh?


  1. You can never have too many pairs of knickers. We weeded out the past the when we moved to Turkey. It was both sad and liberating at the same time. Good luck with the your life on the water. Permission to come aboard, Capt’n!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you! At the very least it should give me more fodder for blog posts. At best it will ensure my position on the family tree – as the one always drawn as hanging upside down from his branch and facing the wrong way! 🙂


  2. I’m envious not just of the lifestyle you’re about to take on but of the ability to cut your possessions by so much with nary a twinge of regret. I think I’d need the Queen Mary.
    Very best wishes to you, I hope the boat is found sooner rather than later.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Don’t forget the Shire Horse (to pull the barge) and the obligatory barking dog (to keep pirates at bay and annoy both you and the horse) Ian.
    Although Manchester canals abound, I’d avoid them if I were you (they go through some very insalubrious places) – however, Cheshire canals are very scenic, with closely spaced watering holes for horses and dogs near convenient Pubs (with good food and liquid refreshments aplenty).
    PS Shouldn’t that be Tally Rudder Ho? 😃

    Liked by 1 person

      1. Well, now that you’ve left the land of land-lubbers, I’ll be waiting breathlessly for rollicking tales of your adventures (and lots of photos)!!

        Liked by 1 person

  4. Ooh, what japes! Jolly good luck old bean. You have retained your camera equipment, haven’t you?

    Liked by 1 person

Comments are closed.