November now, and the first frosts making the gangplank treacherous. But it's snug inside the boat, with the stove going. And we've had a run of beautiful dawns, like this one two mornings ago. There's my boat, waiting for me to go back and get the kettle on. Unimpeachably canalcore, that picture.
And it is indeed a fine way of living, even with its inconveniences, like yesterday when I woke to find Eve (my boat) listing rather alarmingly, because some clot had left a paddle up on the top lock in Devizes, and the Long Pound, fifteen miles of uninterrupted water between Devizes and Wootton Rivers, had been draining away during the night. I eventually managed to heave the stern off the bottom and floated freely again, before things started falling off the shelves.
And we've had two deaths by drowning since August, one of a good friend and boat neighbour.
I patched up my gangplank with some fresh rubber matting, to make it less slippery, though it's still a menace in the frost.
Paul on the Ozzie Fuel Boat came by, and we stocked up on Calor gas and coal. The fuel boats on the network are a valuable resource; heaving stuff on the bicycle is extremely hard work!
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