Legends from our own lunchtimes

Wednesday, April 06, 2011

For the past three years we've watched the boating season coming to an end.

Slowly the numbers of boats on the water diminishes as each finds it's own particular burrow in which to hibernate for winter. At that time the harbour is a hive of activity, slowly filling beyond capacity with a sort of sleepy buzz as people go about applying covers and taking home the remnants of their summer aboard.

Now, as the leaves are arriving on the trees, the harbour is stirring, but ever so slowly.

We were the first to take up residence for the new season, the first to remove the covers and give the boat it's scrub for summer. Those who remained for the winter see us as another sign their ordeal is over. On Friday we shall all celebrate. The canal is still closed at Nancy and the complete absence of traffic exaggerates the stillness. About a third of the hire fleet is still ashore, and the team are busy with the steam cleaners.

We've made a list of things to make and do too. The fridge has coughed and spluttered and wheezed and told us it's time. We've got the new upholstery in place and will one day come to terms with the colour, the bed is back where it belongs until we work out how to replace it.

I suppose we should get on with it, but the sunset through the trees on the opposite bank looks for all the world like purple lace and at the pace we are moving it may take quite some time to actually do anything at all.


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