The Tour Continued

My favourite place of all:  

We contacted a specialist Gardner engineer not long after our move to the marina. 
Ray arrived with a torch he had purchased for £1 in ASDA , a spanner and a white flannel.  
His examination was single-minded and silent.  After half an hour he looked at me, looked at the engine and incanted my name three times:
“Fleur, Fleur, Fleur.”
The tone of it suggested that he was actually addressing the engine rather than me. 
There was some further tinkering before his intriguing pronouncement:
“You know the story of Henry the Eighth and his six wives.  They were all lined up and he thought: Well, I know what to do but I don’t know where to begin.”

More comfortingly, he left me with: “I’ve never been defeated yet.”
In addition to the flannel which was no longer white.

 
He visited us again on Sunday. 
“I’m like an engine,” he said, “a little fuel, a lot of energy.” Accepting two warm mince pies and declining a fry-up.
Spoke wistfully of days gone by, apprenticeships and esoteric knowledge and of machinery, of his wives and adventures, a twinkle in his eye all the while. Has invited us to his workshop where he is reconditioning another old engine.
“People ask me when I’m going to retire.  I tell them my days will be numbered when, like an engine, the bits start falling off and can’t be repaired.”
Eager to tackle our engine and the steering gear, he will bring his friend to test the starter motors.  The engine will certainly work he says.
Davenham sailing under her own power. 
We cannot imagine any sight more beautiful, any excitement so thrilling.
 

Entrance to the Engine Room, portside



Down the ladder....



The Engine

The heart of our Gorgeous Little Ship.  

In the not too distant future, that heart will be beating again.

 

An Invitation

It was a glorious morning, with the clearest blue sky but bitterly cold. A sharp frost had descended in the early hours and the woods were silent apart from the occasional rustle from piles of leaves and the Green Woodpeckers' laughing cry.
Mrs Badger drew back the curtains to this beautiful scene, a dusting of icing sugar on the branches round the window, sparkling in the sunlight. A plump Robin glanced back at her and flew to the rickety gate which led into the woods. Then she went into the hallway and saw the post had arrived early.
' Oh look dear, we've been invited, festive drinks on Davenham!'
   Mrs Badger rushed into the back room where Mr Badger was just putting a large rather mossy log onto the grand fire he had been building in the inglenook.
' Oh my dear, how very exciting.' Mr Badger took the card, his claws now much more delicate from all the sessions at Paws & Claws. ' Shall I send an email to accept the invitation?'
' Oh no dear, it must be handwritten and in quite a formal way, I feel. We are so honoured to have this invitation. After our dreadful behaviour in August, I am surprised that we are invited at all. I suppose we did tidy up as much as possible and I believe there is generally a warm welcome on board.'
'Come along dear, come and sit on this log here by the fire and start to compose your reply. Excitement, great excitement indeed! '

                                         Moira Amey
                                                2nd December 2012.