Blissfully Stranded

Scenes from a snowy riverbank, taken a couple of weeks ago when I was blissfully snowed-in....

Betty's Words

I wanted, Dear Readers, to share some photos of The Magnificent Gangplank but am experiencing a few minor technical difficulties....

The less said about my incompetence the better.

Regrettably therefore (much as I value them), there will, for the moment, be only words to paint you pictures with.

Betty's words on a card to me, paint a vivid and affecting image.

She wrote: "...maybe Davenham has met the boats in the picture at some time. Perhaps boats have some contact with each other...." 

They make me wonder about Davenham's sister ships...

She must feel their loss.....

Herman, one of our neighbours, works with boats.  He believes that they do have a personality, a persona.  Some boats, he says, are unwelcoming, even hostile.  He has known vessels who resist, who try to repel; no matter what you are doing to fix them, things will go wrong - problems, delays, accidents - they will not accept you, there is a negative aura about them.

Davenham's personality is strong and inviting,  he answers to my inevitable question.

"If it wasn't, I would never have come aboard".

A Momentous Occasion

Davenham's magnificent Gangplank is the only possible way to begin this post.
As the Captain has said, its installation was a momentous occasion that heralded a new chapter in our lives and THANK YOU, THANK YOU Wayne, Splendid Man, from the bottom of our hearts.

That heralded new chapter is entitled: "Work Commences!"

Whether men are from Mars and women from Venus is a question best left to psychologists and inter-planetary explorers.  My own and only contribution to the debate has invariably been a derisory snort as such thinking seems only to further the division of the human species.  It has come to my aggrieved notice however, that there may be a genome of truth in the argument and plumbing - mechanical, not anatomical - is at its core.

Davenham is without plumbing although not without pipes.  Of these there are many and of great variety.  They served purposes that are not always obvious - purposes we are still discovering - egressing, ingressing and protruding their snakey forms throughout our Little Ship. In plastic, copper, rubber, chrome, brass, these conduits must have delivered oils and gases, water and steam to numberless destinations over the course of Davenam's life and some, we hope, will do so again.

This preamble leads me to Hattie.  Hattie wanted to be a surgeon.  She became a plumber (the two not being unrelated of course) and what a felicitous happening that was for us because she formed a company of women plumbers, superbly named, "Stopcocks".

In order to find a plumber who would return my call/turn up when arranged/ address the conversation to me instead of to my chest or the nearest man present (none of whom, incidentally, were connected in any way to Davenham) I had, rather shockingly in the 21st century, to Google "female plumbers".
Within five minutes of sending an e-mail, Stopcocks had replied, telephoned and arranged for one of their plumbers to contact me. They have photographed, measured, cogitated, and researched on our behalf since the summer and have - as though it was meant to be - a sea captain in their team!
One has to conclude therefore, that Venus is where the most reliable, concientious, inventive and delightful plumbers reside.

Having said all that, no actual plumbing has been done yet. Hattie is, in fact, working on the floor of the hold.

The smell of sawn wood and ground metal is delicious; sparks are flying, drills are whining.  Above, a fine coating of dust has settled over the fine coating of soot. The armchairs are sheeted and much of the china re-boxed; the walls look naked without the cards and pictures; the room  is full but feels bare, its cosiness packed away.  Festooned across the balcony, the  Captain's jolly flags are the only remnant of the dancing, the gatherings, the festivities it has hosted over the past few months.
Our first party was in this, then empty, space; Boat Husband, and Luke and I had a picnic here, almost a year ago,when Davenham was moored, waiting,  in a creek off the Thames, to go into dry dock.   We were chilled to the bone but what fun it was!
One day,  in the not too distant future, it will be our library-study....

So, Davenham's transformation has begun.

Electricians and carpenters and other knowledgeable people come and measure and pace and ponder and offer suggestions and some even follow up with the promised quote.  Lots do not.  Wayne says this is standard practice, that the building trade is notorious. "They probably think you're tyre kickers," he says,  explaining about garage forecourts and furrowed brows and giving the tyres a kick and walking into the horizon never to be heard of again, having wasted time and sales patter; " ..time wasters."

Sharp intakes of breath are not uncommon.  I find those with respiratory  problems deeply irritating and swiftly remove their names from our list. Davenham  will only be entrusted to the care of positive and creative influences - the Hatties of this world.

Being a novice in all things nautical, I unashamedly ask everyone's advice about Davenham. It is given generously, in abundance, and all of it is contradictory.
Boats are permanently a Work In Progress we are told.
"Challenge" is a word that is used a lot in the same sentence as her name.
We are assured by everyone that, whatever our budget, add another nought and plan in years rather than months.
"But", I wail, "we are planning a grand party in the summer!"
"WHICH summer!" comes the riposte.
"THIS summer!" I proclaim determinedly.
Boat Husband and I are writing the invitations.

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The Cat

We have a cat.

Catherine (spiritual friend) reported this revenant feline sashaying through the (closed) door, very much at home.  Donna (spiritual cousin) espied its tail disappearing under the table.

We long for cats and dogs to share our home so this otherworldly creature is most welcome. 

I have interrogated Kip and Moira, both of whom  have form when it comes to psychic episodes but Puss hasn't made itself known to them.

Neither has it appeared to the Captain although he HAS sensed a presence in his cabin on a couple of occasions. He thinks that may be human....

I have not seen it.  Apparitions never reveal themselves to me. I do wish they would.  Or, well, suppose they do and it's just that I don't see them.....?  There was a cat flap in the door of my cabin; I plugged it with a piece of wood to stop the draught.  Maybe Puss was affronted, took it as an unfriendly act and ....
Perhaps I should unplug it.

Very exciting news !   We now have a proper gangplank.    An auspicious day for Davemham and her crew.
Created by the marvellous Wayne H, who sketched it one weekend on our kitchen / galley cum room-where-we-do-everything table after saying he could design and execute such a wonderous feat of engineering.  That day dawned, Yesterday.  Crisp, so cold your breath announced the temperature in front of you, but with a hint of sushine.

After several visitations including from Karen and Mike of the sparklingly shipshape and prstine looking Amiens (and how very lovely to see you twas, freshly 'happy new yeared' and now up to speed on all News,  then we had kind Dave and Sue his lovely wife.  They came bearing gorgeous Gifts of frankincense, myrrh ... NO.  Stop!  Wrong blog and film.  Rewind:  in fact they came bearing Wood. 
What good and kind friends they have turned out to be.  They probably don't realise how grateful we are.   Without them our woodburner would be starved, cold and insert.   They have brought us several Leylandii in chopped up form (burns like petrol) over the last 12 months.  

So, they came again, bearing gifts of lots of more wood in all its many different but highly combustible forms such as carpet track, logs, interiors from wardrobes and wooden shelving, chip board, loft insulation stuff etc.

Then arrived Wayne the Gangplank Master, the lovely Karen / Kip and Billy, their friend, a lovely kind man who has been assisting Wayne with the gangplank's coming into being.

The Admiral-Grease Monkey was also very much in attendance, running hither and thither, creating scrumptious venison casseroles, sweet potatoed mashes and gourmet cheesecakes, interspersed with handing me ropes, tying knots and moving our deck furniture to another part of the ship as we manoeuvered the gangplank into place.

Ah Hoy there shipmates, tis the Captain calling ... I have been Silent hitherto as I was becalmed in the Doldrums with my Empire building (ask the Admiral-Engine Wench & Grease Monkey-Empire Secretary - she can explain All if you're very nice to her and elaborate further ... ).  Now returned and wish to put this blog to rights; so brace the mainsail and splice the mainbrace, shiver me timbers and all Hands on Deck for Action Stations !