Don't you just love it?

Don't you just love Google? Don't all shout at once. Personally, I've been using so many of their products for so many years that deciding not to be a Googlite would be very inconvenient.  I was sorely tempted the other day, though.

I wanted to post here on the blog but, for reasons I could neither fathom myself nor discover from the web, Blogger simply wouldn't work. I gave Google the benefit of the considerable doubt, and waited a few days to let them discover the problem and fix it. The few days later, there was no improvement. I spent less than two minutes deciding that, though I would very much like to be shot of them, I valued my sanity too much; sanity which was very likely to be compromised if I actually tried dumping them..

Then it occurred to me that, at the very heart of all of the Google products I use - GMail, Blogger, Maps, YouTube, Drive, Calendar, Photos, Keep, Slides, Translate, Earth and Meet - is Chrome, their browser.

I installed Opera, Blogger worked! Just like that!

How is it, then, one may ask, that Google Blogger doesn't work with Google Chrome, but works with someone else's browser?

Rant over. Sorry about that. I only came here to wish you all the very best possible Christmas, and the same for the new year! I got distracted. Apologies for letting off steam on you.

It's entirely possible that some of you might be forced to spend Christmas alone, and that's really not a happy prospect. I'd hate it with a loathing, I'm sure. So I hope that this will help. It's a list of tips on how to make the most of being alone over Christmas, written by someone who has a lot of experience of that... (@MittenDAmour on Twitter)

If you are suddenly facing Christmas alone, I have tips. I LOVE Christmas alone, so get on board.

Food: What would you ideally like to eat if no-one could limit you or judge you? Nothing but pigs in blankets? Just cake? Pot Noodle? Get that! I’m having cheese and crackers.

Drink: Same goes – what would be a decadent treat? Endless cups of strong tea? Babycham? A robust red? Get it, you’re worth it. If you know booze makes you cry either limit it or buy extra tissues. No judgment.

Activities: Make a plan, don’t leave it to the day and find yourself lost. Doesn’t have to be a rigorous agenda but ‘wake up whenever, hot buttery toast and tea for breakfast, bubble bath, watch films, go for walk’ will give you a structure to enjoy.

Company: Many people can feel rotten lonely in a house full of relatives. Remember that. Even people in bustling houses can be miserable. Arrange to make call one or two people, just to say Merry Christmas and hear about how they dropped the turkey or what they’re watching on TV

Decorations: Do it! Get some decorations up – it makes a huge difference and shows that YOU are taking control of this fate, plus twinkly lights and bright things are cheering. I like to put on Christmas music and pour a hot mulled wine while I put mine up.

Gifts: If you have gifts to open maybe you’d like to arrange to do that at the same time as a friend over video chat. If you don’t have gifts please consider a spot of self-gifting and YES, wrap them up so you can open them on the day. Hard recommend on this one.

And lastly... hold on to the fact it is just 24 hours and doesn’t have to *be* anything. Even if you spend it sobbing, it will not last forever, it ends. Be gentle to yourself, make your own rules, turn it into your ideal lazy selfish Sunday. I learnt to lean into it and love it.

Oh and by the way, going outside for a stroll on Christmas Day is also a strong recommendation. Cheery cries of “Merry Christmas” exchanged with strangers and their dogs is an absolute tonic.

Own it, make it selfish and decadent. You deserve it, and I hope you enjoy it.

So, from Grace and me...

*******

Something very special amongst all the vlogs

There are lots of boaters out there who put a lot of time and care into recording, editing and publishing vlogs. I've seen many, but there are very many more. All of the ones I have seen are about the vlogger's waterway travels. You'll see them cruising through countryside and town, village and city. You'll see them going through locks and tunnels, swing bridges and lift bridges. You'll see them moor and cast off, fill up their water tank, top up the diesel, light their stove. At some point, they may take you down into the engine room.

Many of them give useful demonstrations of how to get weed from around the propeller, touch up the paintwork, change a battery, service a toilet cassette, clean the cratch cover, change the gas cylinders. I'm sure there are hundreds of boaters or would-be boaters who find these vlogs an excellent source of information, and I know that the most popular vloggers have followers in six figures.

A new face on You Tube, though, isn't interested in those details of travelling on the cut. He has a totally different reason for vlogging. He's Dave Thompson on board Narrowboat iSNESS, and this is his story, published with his permission.

After losing my wife to cancer abroad, I moved back to the UK with just a suitcase, a bike and an inflatable kayak. I came back empty and saddened. I didn't own a home so I slept on my mother's sofa near Birmingham. Not staying there long, I couch-surfed from place to place. It was getting me down, not having a home where I could settle and properly grieve for my great loss. I was uprooted and with no real income. My world was falling away and I decided to give up. 

I woke up in hospital after taking an overdose of medication. That morning, a light switched on within me and I realised how close I had been to not being here, but more importantly what my my family and friends would have had to go through. My waking up was a new beginning. I was determined to push forward and survive. I got work, made lots of new friends and, through having faith that there was a light shining again, I was happy.  

And the greatest treat for me was buying a narrowboat and living on it. Being surrounded by nature, wildlife and beautiful, tranquil scenes has changed me and my life. I love who I am, and every moment. And my experiences as a boater I share with you now via a vlog I started during lock-down. My vlog is about my narrowboat life and my experiences. It's relaxing and chilled out. If you haven't seen it, then please take a moment to check it out. If you enjoy please share, subscribe and like. 

This is not just about me, but sharing something that may bring wellbeing and good change to someone else out there who's been or going through difficult times. Namaste, thank you. Dave.

Dave's fabulous vlog is to be found HERE and I recommend it to you highly. The physical and mental health value of being near water, in the countryside, surrounded by natural beauty - which is what this vlog is all about - is being promoted by CRT, who are encouraging people to use the towing-paths for walking, jogging and cycling. )This doesn't meet with the approval of a number of boaters, needless to say, but there does seem to be an increasing number who love to whinge!)

Please don't be put off by the fact that clicking the link above takes you to a page where you are asked to confirm that you want to continue. I don't know why that happens, but I assure you, Dave's vlog site is totally safe. I've been there several times.

Enjoy!

Stills from Dave's vlog

Stay home, essential travel only

Those of you who read this blog because it's usually about our life on board NB Kantara are going to be disappointed for... well, who knows how long? I mean, in any other year I could say with a fair amount of certainty that we'd be back on board in February or March, but the big C has demolished one's chances of being even half sure about anything beyond the next meal.

Suffice it to say that we went back to Kantara yesterday. We were there for less that an hour, picking up a handful of bits and things that we hadn't realised we'd need when we returned to the house last month. We were able to verify that the electric heater and the dehumidifier were working properly. Then we drove back, feeling just a tad guilty as we drove under several matrix signs on the M1 telling us to stay at home unless our journey was essential. My excuse for carrying on was that we couldn't stay at home because, in fact, we were not at home, but driving down the M1. Though a more intelligent response to these perfectly reasonable signs would be that we were "simply completing the process of moving home - an activity which is permitted under current regulations, constable".

We weren't stopped by the police.

So now our life has moved from the well-ordered, peaceful solitude of the boat to the utter chaos of the house, though it's not an overly noisy chaos. The home that we're being told to stay in simply isn't big enough for the amount of stuff that seven people have. (Well, five in fairness. Naomi and Eddie live pretty tidily in the totally separate annex.)

Our bedrooms belie the word 'room', because there's really not much room in them - though, fortunately, there are beds in each. Grace's studio has been renamed the box room because it's full of boxes - and stuff. The former box room is now the library and archive. The front room doubles quadruples as a day-time workplace, evening TV and dining room, home for a silly number of musical instruments, and an occasional recording studio. The dining room table has no space for dining, the living room five-seater sofa seats two - for eating and TV-watching. The hall, stairs and landing are holding areas for things on their way out and things on their way in. Plus the several things that have no idea where they're going. The loft is full. It became a little less full yesterday when I took the boxes of Christmas decorations out. But they're now in the living-room. Three cars sit on the front drive, but there are two parked on the street. There's a work van in another road. 

It's... interesting, challenging! And, perversely maybe, I love it. The house is really lived in. Three kids, two parents (us!) and two in-laws.

But we won't be sad to get back to living on the boat next year, and nor will Steve and Karolina when they move into their own house. The house space we four vacate will be considerable, but Jess is perfectly capable of gobbling up all of it, believe me. I'll let you know next winter.