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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