Moored in splendid isolation – what do other folk know that I don’t? #narrowboat #boating #England

Well they’ve been on about it for days now, some great depression motoring in from the Atlantic. The latest “oh my good gods” from Her Majesty’s Meteorological Office suggests winds of 60-70mph, although their main forecast page for the nearest observation station here is more conservative at just 50mph. It’s an “amber” warning, apparently.

So I’ve found some moorings where we are on mooring rings, where the trees nearby would have to fall up an embankment to get to us, and we’re away from buildings, flying roof tiles for the avoidance of &etc. I’ve put out no fewer than four ropes and four fenders. The roof has been checked (there’s little up there anyway that is “loose”). There are extra bungee cords on the canvas covers. Everything on the well deck has been jammed in solidly. The front cover is rolled up and open, to present the least resistance possible to the wind, there’s no way to tie that on more securely than it already is.

I’ve been out to my solar panels (all bolted down flat, but one never knows, does one?) and told them all that I love them, just in case.

One thing worries me slightly.

The Cardinal and I are – currently – moored up here in splendid isolation…

Pure co-inky-dinks, or does everyone else know something that I don’t?

Just because I am paranoid it doesn’t mean that they aren’t still out to get me.

There was a most magnificent moon-set this morning. No photographs, there was insufficient light for the pocket rocket to capture the view for me. The sunrise though was distinctly more muted than yesterday’s.

Did, though, manage – just – to capture a robin while I was imbibing my morning caffeine. Extreme zoom, through glass, while sitting at my desk. Robin camouflage.

Notable Benny – the tree only looks “close” because of the effect of the zoom.

How brave and stoic do you have to be to be built like a robin and yet to sally forth every day to do battle with survival? Amazing little critters.

The winds here, when they come, ought to be mostly to our stern, with some swings trying to blow us off the towpath, others on. There’s rain rain and more rain forecast to go with these breezes. Yonder towpaths will be the consistency of rice pudding again, I suppose.

There’s a large pot of mushroom curry on the stove. I did that. I mean, it’s not a case of Spontaneous Mushroom Curry or anything, nothing too paranormal.* That’ll heat up nicely for, probably, the next three days, leaving just some (evil, unhealthy, but edible-whereas-brown-rice-is-not-edible) white rice to cook.

*Well, Officer, I was just sitting there when this enormous pot of curry appeared on the stove. It made a sort of “badoingg” sound, and then it began stirring itself with a wooden spatula. Against whom ought I to press charges? Will there be any compensation? Yes, it was delicious, Officer, thank you.

If the stove flue can manage to stay on (again, no way of making it more secure than it is) and Mr Stove stays lit and happy then I will be forted up here with warm toes, curry to nosh and a pile of books to read. That ought to help to take my mind off the sound of the wind trying to pull my boat apart.

If it doesn’t then I’ll apply liberal amounts of cocoa spruced up with (English) whisky (thanks, Sis!).

Again, it’s a lousy, rotten life, but someone’s got to live it.

Justin Case I can’t get out and about with Mr Camera I have taken a “during the storm” photo in advance.

I wonder where robins and other small birds go when it blows like this? Any bloody where the wind takes them, I suppose.

Odds being taken on the name of the first boat to “cruise” past in a sixty mph wind.

There will be several, since England closed all of its asylums years ago.

Chin-chin, chaps.

😉

Ian H., and Cardinal W.

p.s., here’s another nice tree. The trunk looks as though it has lots of stories to tell.

p.p.s., yes, a boat has just cruised past. That didn’t take long, did it? Perhaps they have some medical emergency to tend to, you know, such as an in-growing brain gland, or a conjoined rectum. We mustn’t judge. Some folk are just more …adventurous than I. 😉

Reggie, I didn’t get where I am today by being adventurous.

Actually, thinking about it – I chuffing well did.

I’ve been both the statue and at other times the pigeon.