After a few days of somewhat vigorous autumnal breezes the Arsenal Villa end of Storm Callum has arrived, bringing with him 8/8ths thick grey cloud, lashing rain and 50mph+ winds. [Meteorological Office; Storm Callum.] Eire is getting a kicking, as are the more Atlantic portions of England, and tis set to continue tomorrow as well.
The Cardinal’s solar panels are fasting.
Being of sound mind (the same can’t be said for the body) I have us on four ropes and six pins, topside has been cleared of loose items (lifebelt &etc) and we are away from trees.
As is usual, we are also away – far, far away – from other boats, people and small but perfectly formed goats. The last boat packed up and left for their marina mooring yesterday just before dusk, and the Cardinal sits in his usual splendid, slightly disconcerting, isolation.
Dusk yesterday brought with it a magnificent, full-crescent rainbow and, yes, I made a wish but no, to the best of my knowledge it hasn’t yet been fulfilled.
Regretfully, we are not yet clear of Audlem. As “Sunnydale” was to Buffy’s “Hell mouth” (Hellmouth?) so Audlem seems to be to “Care in the community”. Two boats have just cruised past, both with persons at the tiller ranting to the world, ranting to themselves, ranting to anyone and anything around and about. Self-ranters. Damaged people. More damaged people. Insane people out in insane weather.
The Cardinal and I usually wear a cloak-of-invisibility, but these creatures see right through it. We seem to be unusually visible.
I am fed up with people who blink sideways and are trailing frayed canvas straps.
I am done with “caring”, and I now, quite seriously, advocate euthanasia.
Yesterday’s setting sun was determined to stare at me even as it sank through the trees.
A curry for lunch (perhaps with added brimstone) will cheer up this peculiar day.
I must make sure that the fumes don’t attract anything…
Nothing larger than a desperate squirrel, anyway.
There was a near-deceased hornet in the cold ashes of the stove yesterday. When I pulled the tray out to re-light the beast he was lumbering through the grey ash like a small version of Sigourney Weaver’s “Alien”. Thank you, Mr Universe, I so, so needed that. I have no idea how the hornet is doing now, I left him in the hedgerow to fend for himself. Can only think that it must have flown down the stove flue in search of either somewhere to warm up or somewhere to die, or both. Perhaps he had had enough of Audlem and had been trying for immolation? Understandable enough, if he was.
Next year is ear-marked for a spot of paintwork on the boat, and I am increasingly thinking “camouflage”. What do you reckon would be more effective, khaki and dull green splodges or perhaps a boat painted up with crosses and slogans? “May I introduce you to my mate, Mr Jesus?”, that sort of thing.
T-shirts of that nature are rumoured to be a guarantee of a seat to oneself on the bus, even what the USAeans call “the short bus”.
Now, rice or naan bread?
Extra chilli and extra garlic are a given.