Four and a half years into boat life

We have now been four and a half years on our river boat. I have truly never looked back or wished we had not done this move. But I do see us moving back to the land in the future. When that will be, I don't know. We also don't know how. In the meantime, what I can say about my life on the boat is that the winters are challenging, and it sometimes feels a burden to get heavy items and big shopping to the boat. The positives are

- affordable living
- the closeness to nature
- wild swimming in summer
- meeting lovely people all the time
- a sense of independence from the grid and the grind
- having learnt to manage resources responsibly
- million-dollar views
- being cool parents
- witnessing wildlife during all seasons
- the possibilities of moving our home wherever we want to
- that summers feel like holidays, even though we're working.

The cost of living crisis has reached us too, of course. Diesel has gone up considerably (from under a pound per litre to about 1.55); coal and wood, as well; and - like everyone - we're spending a lot more on groceries. During the first three years we bought a lot of local and organic produce. Now we cannot afford that anymore and have to go to Aldi or Lidl's. 

Our little dog has arthritis and finds it hard to get up the steps these days. I keep wondering when we'll have to carry him up, and when he'll land in the water instead on the boat or mooring, because of his hip issues. I keep praying.

I find myself longing for a warm bathroom and a hot bath, and to be able to shower every morning without having to think about the water level in the tank. We are also struggling to find the right sofa for our lounge. Right now we have sofa number three, which is an easy to use sofa bed, but it is really uncomfortable to sit on. The last one was a recliner, really expensive, but it was too soft, and my back hurt too much, so we gave it away. We have yet to find the perfect one. Trouble is, that we can't just get any because it has to fit through the door.

Ewan is still working and has another two years to go until he'll be retired. My coaching practice is only just (finally) taking off. So, we might have different needs then. But that is in the future, and who knows what it brings.

Last year, our water pump gave up its ghost and flooded the inside of my wardrobe. In the bedroom water came through the floor boards. That wasn't fun. As we noticed it too late, the wardrobe was full of mould, and lots of clothes needed to be thrown away. The fixing and drying took weeks.

End of 2022 we had a cork floor layed, which has proven to be a brilliant. But some of the click boards were much brighter than the rest, which looks a bit odd. But hey. We have a warmer floor, and the rooms stay warm for much longer.

Our central (Diesel) heating packed up three weeks ago, which was another real downer. The part needs to be ordered from Germany, and thanks to Brexit it's taking ages. Heyho!

Last but not least, a few river and river bank impressions from 2022:

I can't wait for Spring after this long, cold winter. And it is exciting to see the first signs:

Bless you guys 💗 Wishing you all a happy Spring and Summer.

Love,

Silvia

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:

In The Flow

I know. It's been a loooooong time, again. I think I have some kind of blockage with regard to writing. Well - here I am, with some news and reflections about our recent ventures.

I just read through my last post, which was written on 17th February this year. Oh. My. God! Then I didn't know what was about to happen, just one month later: The Lockdown. Corona was already around, I now know, and I remember having a cold with quite a cough, which was over by the time we had to stay at home. Maybe I had it, maybe not. I certainly haven't had any symptoms since, for which I am eternally grateful. Ewan neither, fortunately.

So, we had to stay where we were, at the Winter mooring South of Oxford. A blessing. We absolutely loved it there, especially during the very wonderful April and May sunshine with our very lovely boating community that had started forming over Winter. We really were lucky, as we were always having a beautiful time and never felt isolated or truly locked down where we were. Many people walked past every day; some chatted, some didn't; but it just didn't feel lonely at all there. We were of course also able to go walkies without endangering other people, and we had a good excuse: Jack the dog. 

On 1st June the lockdown for boaters was lifted, and we coddiwompled further South (not without some drama at Abingdon Lock LOL). We found a beautiful field to moor at, and we stayed there till two days ago. We were surrounded by nature, had a post office and shop nearby, a car park as well, also a pub, but the best about that place was it being one of the most beautiful wild swimming spots in the country. And swimming we did - quite a lot. I can not easily put into words how much the wild swimming has given me. It was making me feel so alive and connected with myself and nature; I simply somehow just drifted into flow. God, I love being in wild water, and I can't wait to do it again next Summer.

We've had no glitches, no hiccups, all has been running smoothly, and we feel ever so proud of Coddiwomple. Our tin float is much loved now and even more appreciated. Gazing into the evening sun is always breath-taking, especially when it is reflected in the water and surrounding nature's scenery. It can only be described as magical. Having boaters, cows, sheep, waterfowl and other birds, insects and flowers as your neighbours is Living The Dream, certainly our dream. 

When Lockdown happened I stepped up and offered all my services online. Wow - what a journey that has been. I gained long-term one-to-one clients whom I support through the global pandemic, and I've been holding Family Constellations workshops on health issues every Saturday afternoon since. This virus has truly given me a bit of a kick in the backside and got me going. I guess, my response to a traumatic event (global pandemic) is being busy. So, somehow I was just very, very lucky. Ewan kept his job going all the time, as a so called key worker. Yes, the bridges in Oxfordshire have been looked after as thoroughly as ever; bless his and his colleague's cotton socks. 

I did feel a big dip in my mood, though, after all that business of the first 4 months, and I realised that even I had to somehow face the reality of this global crisis. Not as in suffering myself. But I've been definitely feeling the suffering of others and seeing much more clearly what the economical effects are. My heart goes out to all those who have been having a very difficult half year, and I truly wish that we will all pull together. It is community we all need, and it is technology that is helping us to stay connected.

We are now in a new place, a bit further North, mooring here and there on our way back to Oxford, which is the place we'll be moored at during Winter, again. We feel blessed to have such a wonderful Lock keeper who is always helpful and welcoming; always good for a chat and a laugh; and a real sport. We will very much miss the family who was locked down with us with their three-year old sunshine called Zeri. They have chosen to leave boat life and live on the land for a while. We are so grateful to have had these guys around during this most fantastic Summer (in terms of weather). Our Winter community is therefore going to be different, and I am looking forward to reconnecting with last time's peeps and meeting new lovely neighbours.

Life is good.

We're in the flow.

Our plan is to go to Germany for the whole of October, because my eldest daughter is becoming a mum for the first time. I'm so very excited to become a grandmother. I really hope we'll be allowed to go. As the numbers of infected are rising, our near future is quite uncertain, and we have to be prepared not to be permitted to travel. It would break my heart not to see my first grandchild in the flesh. But I won't be alone suffering from the consequences of another outbreak, and we'll just have to deal with reality as best as we can. We have a plan B, and if plan B doesn't work, then something else will come along and tempt us. A whole month on Coddiwomple would also be absolutely wonderful. I am very grateful for my life, and I'm very grateful for my Ewan.

Because the internet reception is shite in the current place, I will only upload one picture this time. If you want to see my pictures, you can follow "sparkling_silf" on Instagram.

Till next time,

Silvia x

Life's Ups And Downs

Hi Peeps!

I'm resting today, as I've got a cold. No worries, I'm on the up, just taking my time to look after myself. I've heard from so many that their cold has come back several times. I wonder if it's down to them trying to get back to work or back into action too soon. I'm lucky that I can rest and take it easy, thanks to my full-time working man, who makes it all possible for me to go slowly. Oh, I do love my hubby so, so much for being such a super star; I appreciate how he's soldiering on while I'm building up my life coaching business. It's growing organically, as I'm not one of those who wants to be in everybody's face with online posts and webinars all the time. I love it when my name gets passed on by happy clients. Oh, have I even told you what my work is all about? Well - I support people in finding ways out of the metaphorical fog into more clarity. I also do healing work, which involves a systemic approach called "Family Constellations". Has nothing to do with the stars. It's a bit like role play, only, it's not role play; it just looks like it is. Basically, once a client presents their issue, I help them set up their family of origin (family system) or current family (partner, kids) by using floor markers. Like this:

The floor markers have an inward triangle cut out to indicate the direction in which the family member is looking.

Each marker represents a different member of the family. Then I ask the client to step onto those different markers and feel into the representations (mother, father, partner, children ...). It's a felt, phenomenological experience.

The client feels into the representation of their family members.

We all kind of intuitively know how the others in our family are feeling towards ourselves and each other, especially when we step into their 'shoes'. In doing this, the client gets a much clearer picture of the dynamics within their family, their place and role in it, but also an insight into the entanglements that hold them back. There's a lot more to it, of course, but I don't want to bore you about that here. Just, some bragging: Clients come away with a sense of healing and deeper understanding, but also knowing their next step. Yep - that's me as a Life Coach.

A new car

We treated ourselves to a nice new (used) SUV, a silver Honda CR-V. We had it just about 10 days, ...

 
 

... when a pub customer bashed into it at about 11pm. That was the end of it - a write-off.

 

That was over a month ago, and we still haven't got our money from the third party insurance. They offered us £255 less than we paid. We're not amused. We're fighting our corner. Wish us luck!

So, how's life on Coddiwomple?

We're actually finally at a point where we have sorted all issues (I hope I'm not jinxing it), bar the bow thruster, which will hopefully be fixed in March. The solar panels work, the heating works, the composting toilet was a brilliant idea, and the water filtering system works too (although we're not too happy about already having to replace the filters as the water went yellow - probably down to the fast river flow). We have the furniture that we want, the kitchen looks lovely, and our guest room is being used by friends and family quite regularly.

It's great to have more day light again, which means we don't have to run the engine for so long anymore. On a sunny day, we're actually totally fine. Probably, because we had decided to switch off the freezer during winter. I shall be glad to have that one back on soon'ish, which means that I won't have to shop so often.

We have some very lovely friends who help us out with freezer space and laundry now and then. I'm volunteering at the local 'Talking Shop', a community shop and cafe in a village hall, baking my German style cakes, which are well received, and helping out at the till sometimes. I love it.

Ours is the white-dark-blue one in the middle.

We're on our Winter mooring, at a Lock south of Oxford after we had stayed on the free meadow mooring a little further up since late March. Just as we thought we could stay there another Summer, we've been told that mooring is now forbidden there, because the opposite house owners felt annoyed by the view of our boats. Yeah, bummer. But hey - we live on a boat, so we might as well roam the river from 1st April. Just - with us both using motorised vehicles, it's going to be a challenge to park them nearby. But I'm sure we'll figure it all out. We'll certainly be back on the Lock for the next winter, as we really feel safe and supported here. Those house owners clearly seem to feel the free view onto the meadow across the river is a given and included in the ownership of their million dollar houses, and, unfortunately, the owner of the meadow doesn't want to upset them. So, our little community will be dissolved from April to October, but we'll most certainly all be back next winter.

I'm - just like you - so, so much looking forward to Spring. The first signs are clearly visible, and I'm having a lovely time taking pictures while walking my Jack. Of course, I love the sunrises and sunsets most, as the light is magical then.

View out of our kitchen window in the early morning light.

At sunset, beyond the Lock, on a wind still evening.

The wildlife is certainly fully waking up and making a lot of noise with the sun rising. I guess they're starting the mating process as well as sorting out territories. It's amazing to witness it all, and I now really am relaxing into this life style.

 

 When it was cold and the heating didn't work (several times), I dreamed about a house in a warm place during Winter - six months there and six months on the boat. But actually, when the heating is working, it's really quite nice in our floating tin. Maybe one day, we might be able to have a little house somewhere down south.Coddiwomple withstood the two major storms, Ciara and Dennis, very well indeed, and despite floods on the main river, the mooring at the Lock has been well managed and flood-free. We can park close by on either side of the Lock, which is very handy indeed.I am nervous about us having to move away from 1st April, but nervousness is my default setting, - I know it's irrational - and I'm managing it with positive thoughts and remembering that I have my captain Ewan look after me, and friends coming to help if needed. All is good, all will be good.Aho!