Legends from our own lunchtimes

Friday, July 15, 2011

Home is..

Nothing I do seems to do anything but move the confounded leak in the water connection from one end of the joint to the other, and back again, so again I have resolved to do nothing at least for a few days and see if it goes away of it's own accord once it realises it's not getting any attention.

Sunny and Al are busy getting their boat ready for winter, a process which seems to mostly involve depositing somewhere in our boat, every manner of foodstuff and confection, not to mention enough potplants to start a small nursery. The surgeon arrives tomorrow to sever the invisible cord which has kept us attached through the last three weeks and almost one hundred locks, and I think we are all subconsciously practicing our best melancholy mood.

We too have been getting ready to move on, topping up water and fuel, fidgeting with things that don't need fidgeting with, looking at maps and ignoring leaking water pipes.

Thank goodness Jan and Ian are here to distract us all, and Paul and Bertha from the barge next door joined us as well for one final celebration. Deep down we didn't want it to end, but it will as these things have a habit of doing, and tomorrow we will say goodbye to the Canadian mob, and to Toul, where we have lived in the shadow of the cathedral for more than twice as long in the past twelve months as we have in our "new" house.


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