Dear Motley Crew,
In the end, we need not have rushed. Two days after arriving in the marina and whilst packing clothes, and wrapping Christmas gifts for family in Turkey, we received a terse email from Turkish Airlines. Our flights had been cancelled. Not for us then a Christmas in Turkey, or, indeed, turkey for Christmas. The country had closed its borders to anyone travelling from the UK and it was not alone in its decision. The ominous rumbling that we could now hear, was the sound of multiple European borders slamming shut to the UK.
By contrast, the UK was demonstrating great generosity, and Christmas spirit in abundance, by encouraging residents to gather for Christmas and welcoming the world to its shores.
As families came together to celebrate the festive season, the daily new-cases rate was sitting at around 25,000. A fortnight later, long after celebrations were over and the tinsel and lights had been packed away for another year, it had risen to nearly 70,000. For thousands of these, this Christmas was to be their last.
It came as no surprise to anyone then, that on the 5th of January, in what was now becoming a depressingly familiar cycle, we were again plunged into a national lockdown. The press had their own opinion of how matters were being handled.
“What’s that Skippy? Boris has screwed up again? I don’t think even you can help him out of this one.”
Once more, all canal travel was banned and many marinas immediately shut down, refusing to allow boats to either enter or leave. Once more, we found ourselves confined to barracks. However, in contrast to our first experience of lockdown, this time we took much comfort in having access to plug-in power, our very own water tap, and a laundry with a clothes dryer. The days were now drawing in by 4 pm, rain was a constant, and daytime temperatures were hovering around 0. Not having to travel was a luxury.
But the question remained – how were we to fill these long, dark days? The answer, of course, was obvious; renovate!
For some time now, we had been carrying with us a roll of new, vinyl flooring and the box containing our recently-purchased composting toilet. The former was languishing behind the sofa and the latter was taking up space in our living area, being used variously as a pouf, a coffee/drinks table, and a repository for last weekend’s newspapers. It was time, we decided, to get to work. Installing the new toilet obviously involved un-installing the old one – a delicate operation and one that would require precision timing. The change-over also necessitated the removal of various plumbing bits and the installation of various electrical bits. In addition, wall panels behind the toilet had to be fitted and painted, and the new flooring under the toilet had to be laid.
The change-over was achieved with admirable proficiency and speed and Matanuska is now the proud owner of a fully-functioning, composting loo, replete with new flooring and new walls. No more will The Captain have to endure the disagreeableness of “slops duty” – a fact for which he is extremely grateful.
A picture is indeed worth a thousand words
We now had the renovating bit well and truly between our teeth and with hardly a moment’s pause, we set about the task of laying the new flooring in the kitchen.
This called for much measuring, cutting, and snipping,
but in no time, our galley was transformed from this,
into this.
Those of you who have visited the Wallaby House will by now be remarking, "hang on a minute, this looks a bit familiar", but as Louis the Fly can attest, “when you’re on a good thing, stick to it!”
Renovations completed, we were now restless, and keen to begin exploring the villages around the marina. In Blisworth, we discovered thatched cottages,
and cottages being thatched.
We found former corn and spice mills doing service as canal-side apartments,
and of course, we found sheep
In Gayton and Rothersthorpe, we located dovecotes,
(I did warn you,...)
more stunning houses,
and views.
And then it snowed,
and everything was transformed.
And so, dear crew, we have settled into a state of near hibernation, broken only by long, rambling walks through small villages and along muddy towpaths.
Oh to be in England
But we are hopeful. Each day now, the numbers being vaccinated grows, and with it comes a palpable sense of easing and loosening of tensions. Perhaps it will be OK after all.
The Captain, The Commodore, and The Cat
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