The older you get, the more robust your inner critic becomes – you’d think it would back off a little by the time you have chugged through a few more decades with a reasonable amount of competence, but no, it learns as many new tricks as you do. The latest is that nagging feeling that continue reading »
The first time I lived afloat was twenty five years ago, on a tiny gaff cutter, a mile upriver from my current mooring. Each summer I set sail with a crew and headed off down Channel to the West Country, the Scillies or Brittany, taking in festivals of sail along the way and trying, not continue reading »
When I lived in a house, the contrast between seasons was not particularly stark. On a boat, the difference between summer and winter involves a whole different way of living. Summer afloat is a glorious, expansive picnic. The entire river is my living space, into which friends ebb and flow with boats, music and continue reading »
What do you need when going over to a friend’s place for supper? Oilskins on, boots, torch. Supper – a container of caponata (aubergine casserole), loaf of bread, bottle of wine, all in a plastic box with a lid. Then step carefully onto the pontoon, which is rocking in the gale even this far up continue reading »