Boogie Nights

A sweary hyperactive maritime professional, really very keen on laughing a lot, doing their best to avoid all the trappings of societies' expectations by acting on impulse to any adventurous idea that wafts by. Let's go!

bienvenu, hola, ciao!

09 February 2007

Snow Place Like Home

Snow! Yes! Snow!
Forward planning after looking at the weather forecast. As a hardened work skiver I was most over joyed to see a nice layer of snow covering everything when I woke up on Thursday.
I had already agreed with my boss that if it snowed I was staying home.

Pentonhook Marina - hemmed in diagonally which means we at least get a view from one window. 

The arrival of snow meant I had a day to spend pottering about on the boat alone, the first one ever since moving on board at in late December.
So far since I've co-owned this boat there hasn't been one day where I could just sit in front of the fire and do sod all. I dragged a bag of wood off the roof (not before making a few snow balls and chucking them at the dog) and lit the fire. I looked at it for a bit, then got almost instantly bored. I nipped outside to inspect the scenery and there was a few chimneys whispering some smoke signals but none I could understand, certainly no signals were saying, hey, pop over here for a chat and a hot cross bun. It's a strange feeling to be closely surrounded on all sides but still feel quite alone, like an outsider.

Banjo aka ships dog - aged 3 -  looking at the carpet recently salvaged
from a house where the owner died and had bodily fluids spilled on it.
The widow, despite having the brand new carpet scrubbed, could still see where it was.
So we gave it a home. Along with bodily fluid of a dead man. Does the dog see dead people?

The brushes on the roof were covered in snow so I thought with all that clean snow it would be a great idea to clean some green algae off the gunnels. A few minutes of scrubbing later and lots of satisfying green gloop washing into the water I caught a glimpse of myself in the window reflection
"shit the neighbours have turned me, they've turned me into a freakish boat cleaner." 
I stopped right there, made a few more snow balls to chuck at the bushes in frustration and headed back inside.

Looking around for something to do, I picked up something from the shelf that I found when I was at the laundry before.
It was a book. I actually read a book. 
Now anyone who knows me will realise that times are desperate when I start to read a book, especially if its not an engine or mechanics manual or something similarly practical. No, this time, thanks to a marina book exchange,  I had my nose into 'Doris Stokes'. She saw dead people apparently but didn't look anything at all like Bruce Willis from the 6th Sense. I'm still a bit unsure about her.
Perplexed at the thought of dead people being arsed to talk to an old lady with curly hair, asking her to talk to living relatives to remind them their car tax is due at the end of the month or that the lost remote control for the telly is in grannies arse crack... Surely they've got far better things to do, like, ooh, I dunno, learning to play harp or flying lessons, maybe practicing with white sheets with the eye holes cut out so they can go for walks in public during Halloween. I wonder if there's a directory of folks who can channel the dead so they can find their nearest convenient psychic "booth" for quick messages home. You'd think they would have learned to use the internet by now.

I got the rope tying book out after that, desperate for something practical and factual. Randomly opened it at an interesting page on how to tie . Mr X had pissed me off that morning with his usual morning bad temper and general cuntyness.
I now know a good cure for that. It involves a decent length of non elastic rope.

Rope tying. Useful when co-habiting with an annoying twat.  

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