Our lovely little mooring has been a bit neglected for a long time. When daughter number 1 and I came to view the mooring, it was completely overgrown. The owner, the lovely M, was quite happy to ‘shuffle a few boats about’ to avoid going near the overgrown bit but I was quite keen to be tucked away on the end mooring. M had no issues with us adding a pontoon, planting some nice flowers and generally doing exactly what I wanted to with the space. To be honest, I’m not entirely sure he was ready for me as we got the mooring start date to match the time we left Mercia, a good deal on fees and no limitations on what I can do with my mooring.
A mornings work with Keith, Dad and Jean had the mooring clear of major weeds and brambles with only a few sycamore saplings and random trees growing out of the side of the bank into the canal. Ever ready to enlist Dad into a bit more work and to help him to fill the empty days of his retirement, I left him to the task of sawing off tree roots. After several weeks of intense cardiovascular workouts, a few choice swear words and a broken saw blade or 2, Dad had the mooring ready for us to actually park the boat. Well, kind of, the moorings are quite badly silted up in a fairly shallow part of the canal so we were initially unable to moor our boat close to the bank and always had one end sticking out, helpfully by frequently being in and out of the mooring this has improved over time.
Having our own space is lovely but does require regular upkeep. At the marina, we never had to put time aside to maintain the pontoon decking or manage the landscaping. Here, we need to maintain the area next to our boat, otherwise it would quickly become unmanageable and we would be unable to actually get onto the boat. So, bearing in mind that I have the allotment as well, I treated myself to a shiny new cordless strimmer.
Armed with my new strimmer, a little pile of perennials and a few hours I took myself to the mooring. Dad has installed a little shed/cabinet type thing and we have a growing pile of offcuts from the renovations inside the boat stacked next to it. The nettles and brambles are making a spirited comeback so my timing is about right. There are a couple of CRT guys on the opposite towpath mending a fence over one of the little aqueducts and the canal is quite busy with boats. The weather is glorious so I am covered in anti-bug spray and suncream, wearing my linen dungarees with a strappy vest underneath. I am certainly no follower of fashion, if I cannot garden or boat in it then I don’t wear it! Betty the batty boat dog is overseeing my progress and so I start by strimming the area flat which takes around 45 minutes. I leave the many iris’ where they are and take out the weeds by the ferns by hand. After an hour or so, it’s time for lunch, so Betty and I go into the boat to chuck our salmon, couscous and salad out of the food flask and onto a plate. Boats are still passing and through the kitchen window I say hello and exchange a few words. Mostly, I speak to the women sitting in the bow followed by a chat with the men at the stern (as it’s often the men driving the boats) and everyone seems happy to have a chat with me. The CRT contractors give me a cheery wave every-time they go past and I’m feeling very sociable.
After lunch, Betty and I go back out and I plant my little pile of perennials, they will not be anywhere near their best this year but next spring and summer they will come into their own. Boats keep passing and chatting and, frankly, I had a lovely, productive and satisfying couple of hours. Feeling pleased with myself, albeit a little sad that I am leaving the boat without actually going anywhere, it’s time to pack up, check on the allotment on the way home and recharge the strimmer.
A quick bathroom break just before I go and…Girls, I have spoken to many of you today and what were you thinking??? Come on. Is there no sisterhood? No boob watch? No women looking out for women? No vagina fraternity? I spent an adventurous time as a young woman and never knowingly left another woman in danger or exposed or at risk. As an older woman I consciously choose to support my sisterhood, by not judging choice of clothing or lifestyle, by allowing others to live their own life with no interference from my opinion; I routinely keep quiet when I disagree with the way other women choose to parent or discipline their children (safeguarding aside), I am quick to step in if I think that a person is being abused or mistreated and am more than willing to assist a person in need. This extends to letting a fellow human know that she/he is flashing a bit of inadvertent side boob/testicle, or has a see-through swimming costume, or has a pair of knickers sticking out of the bottom of their jeans (we have all been there!) I always have tampons in my handbag, tissues for any emergency, anti-histamines, pain-killers and vaseline. So, if anyone has a personal emergency, and if I have my handbag, we can probably cope.
Essentially, I try to be a reasonable person and to not put other people down. I know how it feels to be on the receiving end of negative comments both well intentioned and deliberately nasty so I try to be kind to my fellow earth dwellers.
On the basis of all I have just said, I will never knowingly say hello to any of those women who passed me that day again.
Girls. In the interest of sisterhood. You could have told me I had my left boob out.