A year later, Autumn 2021

Summer is over; I feel sad. I was swimming in the Thames daily in September, and I think it did me really good. When the first cold day arrived I chickened out, though. I can't get myself to go in when the outside temperature is cooler than the water. Autumn has arrived so abruptly, hasn't it. Today we've had the stove going all day, and I'm sure it will go on most of the evening, and probably most days from now.

Three years we've now been on Coddiwomple. We had our anniversary a few days ago. Wow - how time flies. How are we doing? I think we're doing alright. Our boating community is growing, we've done more cruising this summer than the two years before together, and I learned a few tricks about mooring. I hurt my hand once, when I tried to stop the boat bumping into a narrow boat - what a fool. Now I know what to do, fortunately. I always seem to have a kind helper nearby when I'm struggling. Ewan has improved his skills a lot, and I'm proud of him. 

Going into winter, I am fretting again. Just feeling the cold on my face and head last night I thought, "here we go again, freezing nights ahead. When will I be allowed to have the central heating on during the night." Ewan is not as easily cold as I am. Strangely, my swim sessions have not changed my sensitivity to the cold; I thought it would. Ewan has started to bring wood and coal over to the boat on a daily basis. He has a 20 minute walk to his van, so he can only carry a bag at the time, bless him. He's a man of his word. He promised me to always keep me warm, and he hasn't let me down.

Jack the dog is sleeping next to me on the sofa. He's now ten years old; that's 70 in human years. He's still quite fit, but his hips are now and then letting him down. Sometimes he doesn't manage to get up the 4 steps onto the stern, poor little thing. And sometimes he doesn't quite manage to jump into the boot of the car. But mostly he's still okay, fortunately. I wonder what it will be like, if/when we'll have to lift him up the steps, out onto the bank, and into the car. He's such a wonderful companion, but now and then he's got the cheek to disappear for nearly an hour. He picks up on a barbecue scent and goes off to get what he can get. Often he appears all filthy, and I have to wash him - little idiot. 

I'm often yearning to move back to land. My back is not getting better, and my bones feel the damp and cold so badly. I remember that an acupuncturist warned me about moving onto the river; she told me I'd feel it in my bones. She was right. But I'm getting better at accepting that this is our life now, and that it will most certainly be many years before we can go back to land. At least I'm doing something about my diet now; maybe that will do the trick. Good, healthy food, yoga, walks and swimming - I should feel better in a few month's time.

Through the first 1.5 years of the Corona crisis I felt busy (at first), low, anxious, isolated and then kind of frozen. But as restrictions have been lifting, I've been a lot better, and I'm finally working in the physical realm again, offering my workshops and seeing clients in person rather than online. I now see how much of a difference it makes seeing the whole person and being in the same room with them. I've entirely stopped online workshops, as they tired me out so much. Staring into a screen for hours is just exhausting; and I don't think it's good for my eyes either. I'm still not my old self; something is missing. I think I'm feeling the societal division. Not only my own family is divided, but also my friends; and all of society too. I'm finding it very difficult to witness that. I also see so much suffering, confusion, anger, frustration. It permeates my world, and I'm sometimes finding myself in the middle between sides or holding back with my feelings and don't say what I believe. Of course everyone is different, and there is not only black and white. I guess we're all on the spectrum between the two poles. But these days it seems very important to check each other out, where one stands, before openness is even a possibility. All of this makes me feel sad and lonely. I feel judged by some of my closest family and friends and don't feel safe to be myself anymore. There's also a sense of internal change. I may not ever be my old self again. I do miss being light-hearted, silly and careless.

Living this boat life means I have more freedom than I would have living in a house; it means being part of a like-minded community of people who enjoy nature, the seasons, sitting by a fire, being satisfied with little money, stepping out of consumerism, sharing kindness, things and food. I'm so close to nature wildlife, and we have the most amazing views everyday. How precious is that. When I reflect on how life was before boating, we definitely did the right thing. We have no debts anymore, no credit cards, and we have very little to lose. I feel much freer than I ever did. The summers are definitely worth suffering the winters. And so far, everything has been working out well. I feel very grateful.

In a couple of weeks we'll drive to Germany and visit our one year old grand daughter. Finally. I can't wait. I really can't. We saw her last when she was a week old. I'm glad we'll be celebrating her birthday with the family. We've had a few video calls, and I believe she has kind of an understanding that we're somehow family, but of course she is far too young to understand that those people on the screen are her grandparents and have their own smell, and she has no idea how it feels to be around them. I'm so excited. She's growing up so fast. I feel sad that I'll miss most of her development. Well, it is what it is, and it doesn't help having these thoughts.

Just before we leave, we'll go back to our winter mooring. It feels like going home, and I look forward to being there again for 6 months. Spring and summer felt like an adventure, although we stayed in places for quite a long time. But still, it lacks the feeling of home. Funny, isn't it, as we have our home always with us, wherever we moor. But our winter mooring feels like home home, and we are lucky to have the most lovely, caring lock keeper, who feels more like a friend than a member of an authority. We love him and his family. A lot. Our neighbours too.

There's not much to say about the last year, really. No big news, no amazing stories to tell. We felt it was a disappointing summer, and we missed warmth and long summer nights. Looking back, it will go down as the summer of sadness, loss and yearning. Sure, we had good times as well. We just hope that winter will be kind to us, that the diesel heating will keep going alright, and that we can all breathe freely again soon. In the meantime, the only thing we can do is hanging in there and keep taking good care of ourselves, our family and community. I sincerely wish for us humans to remember (or find out) what we all have in common, and that we learn to respect our differences. Let's be kind to one another. I've noticed that I've been unkind a few times. And it troubles me very much. I really need to connect with my heart more, so that I can be sweet again. I guess I'm just super tired, suffering from insomnia since about August last year. I'm really not myself anymore. Hey ho. 

Here are some pictures from the last few months, in no particular order. Hope you enjoy them: