Not so sure what that opening image was – but I like it!
It’s not so much that I’ve got tired of London. Rather, I think that London is getting near to wringing me out, bleeding me dry, squeezing me until the pips squeak, opening up a chute down which all my meagre stash of money is disappearing. It may be time to depart to East Anglian sunsets.
More than 48 years in London, 23 of which on a boat – marriage, births, death, divorce …….. but perhaps I’ll do the reminiscences when the event has actually happened. Meanwhile, what an adventure awaits. Dry land and countryside are beckoning.
However, the not-quite-conventional persists – both first time round and this time governed by finances rather than any romantic notions of alternative lifestyles. So the move is to be from a boat in London to a mobile home on the edge of a Norfolk market town, which will place me within day-trip distance of places I love on the north Norfolk coast, and within day-trip at a push – or overnight with lovely friends – of London.
Nevertheless, even though finance is the driving force, I have to acknowledge the joy of living in a slightly alternative environment on board a boat, and look forward to another small-space environment in a mobile home – the closest I’m ever likely to come to living Australian bungalow style – should I get this mobile home I will be severely tempted to put in a veranda – just to complete the picture (actually there’d have to be a broken-down old sofa on it for absolute authenticity).
I’m picturing the woodwork that will go on in the generously sized, electrically lit outhouse.
The workbench will be here, next to the metal tool-box. The bike will live just over there, through the door and propped against that wall. The two water butts already in place behind, with tap, will water the pots and the raised beds. Washing will dry (or not, or freeze) on the rotary line.
Inside, in the smaller bedroom, there will be a single bed, a wardrobe, and I reckon space for a sewing table. In the front room, a sofa, perhaps an armchair – or even a rocker (but perhaps that will be for the future veranda) – the work-table will be under the front window. Possibly a piano keyboard will fit in as well. So that will be woodwork, sewing, writing, painting and music-making all covered. The kitchen looks like it could handle something the boat galley couldn’t – a mixer – for bread-making and baking.
Blimey-O’Reilly! I’ve moved in before I’ve even put in an offer! Hold back! Take a breath! Stay calm. What will the next few weeks bring?
Meanwhile, I think I’ve almost defeated the digging cats with slate chippings in the new bed. The honeysuckle has been all but murdered – is currently in intensive care and might possibly pull through. The radishes or beetroot are coming up – can’t remember which I planted where.
No sign yet of peas or anemones or tulips, but there are two flowers on the aubretia and buds appearing on other alpines.
Leaves are opening, fresh green, on the gooseberry bush
and the rose bushes are glossily producing leaves in abundance.
Soon the walkers, cyclers, joggers, buggy-pushers and dog-walkers on the lane behind will disappear behind the burgeoning leafiness of the hedgerow.
The birds are on a feeding frenzy – Great Tits, Blue Tits, Robins, Green Parakeets (and the blue one), and of course the pigeons and crows and Magpies. The coots are displaying and mating and fighting and starting construction works on their crazy nests and it won’t be long before the swans are murdering young Greylag geese. Ah, the blossomingness of spring!
Fortunately electricity pylons go with you wherever you go.
Coraliesays Two 