New Year, Glue Ear

I am sitting in an actual room.  With actual walls and doors, that have actual heating within them.  I am back in what one boater called the "Push-Button-World" and it appears that, after five months of being out every day in all weathers, showering (occasionally) in an ice-box and eating stuff I found in bushes, my immune system has decided that this sudden rush of modern comforts (plus a glut of luxury Christmas foods) is all too much to enjoy alone, so has invited a nice, friendly cold virus to keep it company.  The most unpleasant manifestation of said contagion is a build up of goo in my head especially around my lugs.  I am, to all intents and purposes, deaf as a post in my left ear.

You probably did not wish to know this.  I only mention it to solicit some sympathy, really, especially since I also plan to use my cold-related lethargy (and, of course,  the glut of luxury Christmas foods) to explain away my four week blog silence.  During this time I have been dealing with several culture shocks:  Moving off my beloved boat, which included a seemingly never-ending merry-go-round of packing and unpacking; starting back at work which was not so much shock as horror; getting used to a loo which flushes (why all that water??  Honestly, is it to suppress some sort of coprophillic troll that lives in the U-bend and will rise and strike unless it is routinely drowned on a twice daily basis?); and trying to sleep in a bed that  sits in a centrally heated room that will not move anywhere new tomorrow no matter how hard I try to find the tiller.

Then there was all the time spent shopping for luxury Christmas foods.  And eating them.  All takes time and energy, you know.

Truth is, I lost the habit of writing in this thing.  Stopping my journey and dealing with all that is Push-Button temporarily drained my brain of all its tall tales and colour.  Plus, if I am honest, I spent much of the Christmas period lightly pissed on the sloe gin that I made while phfutting my way up the river Avon in the Autumn.

Now, though, I have a load of memories, tales, near-misses and odd characters from the five months I spent travelling the canal system rushing back into my head, like a New Year party that decided to bugger going home and instead nipped out to the offie for more supplies.  If you have the patience and will be good enough to read 'em, I will join this party, have a listen, and attempt to write some of these buggers down.  I'll probably write them even if you don't.

Don't go expecting 3 posts a week though....there's Buttons need Pushing nowadays, you know.

Happy New Year.

Comments

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Truth is, I lost the habit of writing in this thing. Stopping my journey and dealing with all that is Push-Button temporarily drained my brain of all its tall tales and colour. Plus, if I am honest, I spent much of the Christmas period lightly pissed on the sloe gin that I made while phfutting my way up the river Avon in the Autumn.