I really am running out of things to say, amazingly. I'm posting too often, I think. Perhaps I'll give the blog a break for a while, until I'm in a situation which no longer feels very much the same day after day. Like, when we're cruising again! Whenever.
Still, it's been good to have the rain again, hasn't it? I can't remember the last time it fell before that, how long ago that last hot, dry spell started. The canals needed it just as much as the wildlife, and everything needs a lot more still, I'm sure. Around the marina, there were smiles on the wet faces of boaters picturing their craft cutting through swollen canals some time in the future. The smiles waned a little when they tried to imagine just when that might happen.
I'm fine with the rain. I don't mind getting wet - it's only water, after all, and I'm about 60% water, so what's the harm of a bit more? What I do get a bit tired of is the wind. It gets pretty strong on the marina, as regular readers will have been told many times, and it makes what I would like to be my daily walk rather unpleasant - difficult, even. Carrying a bag of rubbish to the skip is out of the question at times. It'd be shredded before I got there.
But if it's not raining and the wind isn't too bad, I still have my afternoon coffee ritual at the end of the jetty. It's a great place to meditate, to read, simply to be. But listening to music through earphones when it's windy is a no-no. (Saying that, I'm reminded that Grace's headphones totally enclose the ears, and must keep out the rush of the wind. I must try them.)
Last time I was out there I saw a huge crowd (shoal?) of tiny fish (fry?) eating Kantara's waterline weed with great excitement. The odd thing was the gathering of a dense, black swarm (?) of them half a metre or so away from the hull. It was like they were having a meeting, a confab about something. Comparing notes on the quality of the weed, were they? Checking up on each other? Individuals would peel off from the throng on occasion, and return to the feast while others left the weed and joined the crowd for a stint. I'd love to know what it was all about.
Meanwhile, crows noisily patrolled the marina, chasing smaller birds away, as if claiming the water for themselves. They were completely out-manoeuvred by the swallows, of course. It was funny to watch. Strangely, not only do these corvids seem to have become more vocal lately, and more violent, but also a lot more numerous, though not by Hitchcockian standards. Yet.
We have a pub at the marina! Well, it's the best that can be managed at the moment. Licensing would be an issue even if pubs had been given the go-ahead to re-open. But they haven't, so near neighbours Bob and Jenny have opened
The Bench and Jetty. Following the "party" we attended there back in May,
The Bench is now the venue for regular social gatherings (subject to the weather and social distancing regulations, of course), where "patrons" bring drink and nibbles to share, and enjoy balmy afternoons and evenings of each other's company. Perfect! More smiles.
The centrepiece of The Bench & Jetty. It's a bit too breezy
right now, so the pub's not patronised.
Recently, in a moment - well, in a lot of moments actually - of madness, I posted a thousand of my favourite
boating photos on Flickr. Please go and browse, comment, enjoy, smile.
And while I'm self-promoting shamelessly, you might want to take a look at my best-selling book this month. I'm sure there's a lot of you desperately in need of a new read. Les Heath, book reviewer for Towpath Talk certainly enjoyed this one.
and this, my second-best-selling book at the moment.
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