Happy Anniversary!

It’s blowing a gale, as usual. The sky alters between glorious blue and dark gray. We have had rain, sun and high winds on a daily basis for over a week now. It seems almost impossible to think that exactly one year ago today we woke before the sun, made coffee, slipped our life jackets on and slipped out of Hull Marina - and never came back.

It had been a long three weeks waiting for the right weather window and even though we had checked, checked and checked again we still ventured out with trepidation. “We can always come back in if it’s not good on the river” we told ourselves. We knew however that once we had made the commitment beyond Spurn Point there was little in the way of a safe harbour before Wells Next To The Sea, our first chosen Port of call. The initial sadness of leaving Hull behind was soon overshadowed by the fear of the unknown. We knew little of how Elephant Daze would cope in the varying different sea states and with the knowledge that this first leg of the trip would take around eight hours, we really were reliant on an accurate forecast and calm seas. We never gave much thought to the effect other vessels might have her. We were very quickly awakened to the reality that other boats could be as much of a problem as the sea state. An overtaking manoeuvre by a ship in a hurry before we even reached Spurn Point brought home to us just how small and vulnerable we were in this busy shipping lane. Glasses were broken, coffee pots lost and for the first time - but not the last - the fridge tried to spill its contents on the floor. So began the first of many rituals, moving things to safe places, namely the champagne collection that we had acquired, presents from former colleagues and friends. Those bottles lucky enough to survive each leg of the journey spent travelling time wrapped up in our bed.

It was a frightening moment when that ship passed us. I remember seeing the wave heading for us. It looked to be towering over us, I really thought it would break over us and turn us over. Instead it picked us up then let us down, over and over again until eventually calm was restored and we headed out sea. The voice in my head was telling me to turn around, go back, ditch liggings not so bad really... From that moment on I always kept a good watch out for vessels approaching from behind. I can only imagine that the ship was sent to warn us, to remind us that we are not really in charge when we’re out there and that you can never rest on your laurels. Anything can happen.

Once we had passed Spurn Point everything changed again. Very quickly we were alone, apart from the seals that waved at us as they played together. The sea was so calm, much calmer than the Humber and it was beautiful. Looking back, the mouth of the Humber soon became a dot on the horizon, before us was nothing but sea. I remember the point at which we noted that you could look North, East, South or West and see nothing but water. No boats, no land just water. I also remember Martyn deciding he really needed the loo and handing me the wheel. A few minutes later he returned to find I had been taking us round and round in circles. I don’t know how I did it, I just couldn’t keep a straight line. I giggled nervously and tried to look cute hoping that my stupidity wouldn’t increase his stress levels any further. Once he got us back on track I was put on ‘crab pot watch’ duty. He saw the funny side a couple of days later.

We arrived at Wells around 2pm just the right time for the tide and after an interesting approach we pulled in and tied up. The first leg of the adventure was over. Elephant Daze had done us proud. We sat and drank our first bottle of champagne, glad that it too had survived and we toasted ourselves - all three of us. Now all we needed was that sea state to take us all the way round the coast, if only. I have never to this day seen a sea like that one. I sometimes wonder if it was all a dream, if it actually happened or if we were sucked up by an alien space ship and dropped back down in Wells.

If we had stuck to our original plan of action today we would probably be sat in Hull waiting for that weather window. Who knows if it would ever come. We were meant to leave when we did that is one thing I am certain of. Many things led up to us making the decision to begin our adventure last year and of all the decisions we made, to leave on the 22nd June 2010 must have been the right one. It was magical. I have a photograph of us leaving Spurn Point that day. It took me a while to spot it but if you look very carefully you can just make out a small cloud that takes on the figure of an angel. Whether you believe in them or not I like to believe that someone was looking after us that day and saw us safely back into Port.

Tonight we will not be on the beach with a barbeque drinking champagne. We will be on our lovely boat probably with the heating on, eating spag boll and drinking a cheap bottle of fizz. We will however toast our adventure and toast ourselves - all three of us.

Maybe it's the lure of the sea...

I have been secretly passing the days in my head as I remember the weeks that lead up to that day in June when we finally set sail. The memories begin in February, the day we left Goole for Hull. Then to April and the day I gave notice on my job. They build up to the 4th of June, the day I finally said goodbye to my job and the people I had worked with for the best part of seven years. There are a lot of feelings that I still remember so clearly about those days. The mixed emotions, the endless hours sat on the M62. The days passing the Humber on our daily 70 mile round commute, looking at the water and wondering, can we do it? The weekends in the pubs around Hull, notably The Minerva, sat watching boats, ships, barges passing by. Trying to work out just how choppy it was - too choppy for us mostly! It was exciting, terrifying and hugely emotional as we set about making a huge change in our lives. We sold what we could. Sometimes it feels as though we sold parts of our lives. Part of the things that made us who we were. But we are still here and we are still us, maybe a little different, maybe not so much. As the circle of time begins to complete I’m not sure how I feel. Proud, happy, sometimes lonely and sometimes a little homesick. I love what we have achieved but I wonder what is round the corner and what we are missing out on. With friends and family so far away it can be hard sometimes.
Last year in my penultimate week of employment we went to Strummercamp. Strummercamp is a festival that celebrates the life and music of Joe Strummer and The Clash. Joe Strummer is my hero (after Martyn of course!) so when I heard back in 2007 that there was a festival dedicated to him it was clear we would have to go. The only problem was that the festival happened on the last bank holiday weekend in May. The same weekend as our favourite rally - Kelso. We decided that we would skip Kelso for one year and go to Strummercamp, I believe since then we have only attended one rally at Kelso! There is a feeling at Strummercamp that no matter who you are you belong and you are welcome. As long as you love music, have respect for others and leave your prejudices at home you will have a good time. It’s a very special place and probably the only time in my life that I never stop smiling from Friday to Monday. The post Strummercamp blues that follow as you head back to reality can last for days. Leaving Strummercamp 2010 was particularly emotional for us as we didn’t know what the future would hold. We told everyone we would be back to tell tall tales of the sea - parrot on one shoulder a wooden leg and an eye patch - if not please call the coast guard - we may well be lost! This being the case we had to go back this year - there was no question. The bus was loaded up and we headed north once more, this time to Manchester. It was a great weekend. My sister and her boyfriend joined us for the Saturday where Wheelbarrow racing seemed to be the name of the game (best not to ask!). Sunday was a more subdued affair and Monday saw us wake us to rain. If we had stuck by plan A and taken the tent down on Sunday and slept in the bus, Monday might have been a little less soggy! We finally left the Strummercamp site saying goodbye to Simon Spoons the infamous Strummercamp Spoons player and thanked our new friend Brian for repeatedly re-tuning Martyns guitar. Not only did we get a free tune we got entertained with some beautiful Irish melodies. A fine way to wake up on a Sunday morning after a riotous Saturday evening! We headed back to Hebden Bridge and following a scrub down at my Dads house we spent Monday with the relatives before heading back South. All in all it all went a little too quick. Work commitments meant we had to be back fro Wednesday which didn’t leave much time to spent with family and I think we felt a little bit cheated. This was followed by the 4th June and the realisation that it was exactly one year since we both left the world of employment and ventured into the unknown. Strange to think as I sit here watching the sea vent it’s anger on the sea wall and cover my windows in salt that I would be sat here one year later.
Martyn has a great job which he loves and I am very lucky to have finally got my own job. We are looking forward to summer (if it ever arrives!) and have plans for our future down here. I can’t help but to think about last year though and two people preparing for a new adventure. I almost feel envious of the person I was last year and the things we acheived. Yesterday I took a walk up to the sea wall and just stood and stared. The sea was a beautiful green colour with small white caps rising and falling with the waves. It looked so inviting - too choppy for us still - but very tempting. Maybe we just need a couple of calm sunny days so we can at least take Elephant Daze beyond that sea wall again. We have not been able to get out since last year, work and weather don’t play well. Weekends are windy, Mondays are calm. We will get out one day and I will get that picture of me on my boat next to the pier - It’s a promise!
We left Hull on June 22nd 2010 the day after the longest day of the year and probably the only flat calm day we will ever see. This year I’m hoping we will celebrate that day with a barbeque on the beach and maybe a bottle of the fizzy stuff. We will toast our friends, our family, ourselves and most importantly Elephant Daze. At that point I suppose we will finally be able to say the circle of time is complete. Just remember though, a circle is never ending....

...Mini Madness (Part two!)

…continued.
I’ve always linked Brighton to scooters and our yearly holiday beginning with the Isle of Wight. It wasn’t until I began writing this blog it actually struck me that the Mini Rally was the beginning of so many things. It was really the first adventure Martyn and I ever embarked upon. It was our first road trip and the furthest we had ever travelled together. It was our very first rally. Looking at all the minis on Madeira Drive this weekend I could see so many similarities between the Scooter scene and the Mini scene. There was a mixture of old and new, classic and customised, clubs and solo travellers. Even the slogans they displayed in various different forms had similar themes to those found on scooter rallies.
As we headed South that day in 1993 we had no idea that this first trip to Brighton would certainly not be the last. We got lost on the M25 which, I believe is something you have to do on your first visit. We crossed the river and eventually found our way to Crystal Palace where we set up camp for the night and had a barbeque. It was an unusual evening and neither of us slept well. The sound of parties, car horns and sirens sounding throughout the city kept us awake most of the night and we were ready to get up and go to Brighton by the time morning came around. As we queued up to take our place in the convoy you could sense the excitement in the air. Clubs gathered together, the sound of air horns was deafening and smoke filled the air and our car! We were off… There were minis as far as the eye could see it was an amazing sight. Everyone was smiling and waving to each other. As the journey progressed more and more minis could be seen at the side of the road, bonnet up owner peering inside at the engine. The gaps in the convoy got bigger and we were glad we had brought a map especially when the mini we were following turned out not to be part of the rally just some poor soul trying get home. After a small diversion we found ourselves in Brighton and on Madeira Drive. It was very exciting, we actually thought there were a lot of people there at the time, little did we know it was only the start of what was to become one of the biggest events on the Mini owners calendar. Nothing else much happened that day, we ate chips, went on the Pier and bumped into somebody we knew from home. It was all a bit of an anticlimax to be honest. We expected a party to be going on somewhere but nobody seemed to know of anything going on. They were all going home! We were tired from the lack of sleep the night before and didn’t want to face the long journey home. We were also skint, there was no thought of B & B’s back then they were well out of our price range. We headed back to Crystal palace with the thought that we might able to stop there for the night again. It wasn’t to be though, the place was disserted and not very inviting so we hit the road. I was desperately looking through the map for a possible campsite that didn’t take us too far off route. What I found was Spellbrook! The name should have been a hint and we should have carried on but Martyn was too tired to carry on driving and there appeared to be a problem with the exhaust (or lack of...!) so we made for Spellbrook and the farmers field we had been directed to. Martyn made some repairs to the exhaust and we put the tent up.  If we thought we would get some sleep here we were very much mistaken. A huge thunder storm with sheet and fork lightning woke us up and we peered outside to be greeted with the vision of people walking around the fields with shotguns in their hands.  We headed for the car!!  I'm not sure why we thought we were safer from the lightening in a tin box or that bullets wouldn't go through the glass windows.  It just seemed like the best thing to do at the time! It was all in all quite a terrifying ordeal. How it didn’t put us off travelling anywhere in the future I’ll never know. One thing I do know is that I will never forget a spooky little place somewhere near Cambridge called Spellbrook! We survived the night and made our way home with a tale to tell. It had been an adventure. That’s the thing with travelling you never know what’s going to happen. You can make plans if you like or just set off and see what happens. Either way you have to expect the unexpected and hope you survive to tell the tale. The closest calls always make for the best stories…
At the age of eighteen we had no idea what was around the corner. We didn’t know what would happen to us both while I was away at University. We didn’t know how we would change as people and what would happen when I returned to the Calder Valley. We certainly didn’t know that at the age of 21 we would set off once more on a journey south that would take us around France on a Vespa. Or that by the age of 22 we would buy our first boat. We certainly never entertained the idea that we would take our first boat on an adventure through the canals and tidal rivers of England and end up in a town called Goole where we would build a boat that would take us south again. It never crossed my mind that day in Brighton as we ate chips on the pier that one day I would end up living in Brighton… Maybe that night in Spellbrook as the skies collided someone was setting our destiny…?

Mini Madnes...

I am now into my third week of being gainfully employed and so far it’s been interesting. The people I work with are very nice which is always a huge bonus and the four hour day is lovely if not a little strange to me still. In my last job I worked relatively long hours and had to commute 15 miles each way. Now my working hours are much more civilised and my commute involves a 10 minute walk through the marina. Oh the stress of it all…! I feel very lucky indeed and glad I didn’t succumb to the agencies who promised me I would be perfect for the buyers position in the factory down the road. It will still be a stretch on the finances from time to time but I have convinced Martyn it’s worth it to have a happy me to come home to on an evening. That and the added advantage of having his washing done, boat (reasonably) tidy and food (sometimes it’s edible!) on the table.
As the year begins to fly by at an astonishing rate the events in Brighton seem to multiply week after week. We have the Brighton Festival, The Fringe Festival, there are open house events, photography festivals and most importantly the Mini festival. We have been waiting for the Mini festival to arrive and it did, this weekend 15^th May 2011. We awoke a little late after making the most of Saturday night which led into Sunday morning. Sometimes we have no idea when to go to bed although I have a suspicion that most of the evening are usually spent fast asleep! We tried to watch a film on Friday night, I saw the first bit and the last bit and Martyn saw most of the middle, between us we managed to piece most of it together, I digress… We awoke to the sound of beeping horns and screeching tyres and surmised the minis were in town. We tried to gather our limbs and finally hit Madeira Drive around lunchtime, it was heaving! When there is an event on Madeira Drive it usually ends quite a long way away from the marina, not today. There were row upon row of minis, flags flying, club banners everywhere the atmosphere was amazing. We couldn’t believe it. It was as if as one child noted ‘ all the minis in the country must be here!’. They stretched from one end of Madeira Drive to the other and they were still arriving as we made our way towards the pier. It was quite a shock and very different to the rally we experienced back in 1993. Martyn first car was a mini KOM 14P. It was green, well greeny yellow, not the best colour but it was good fun. Minis somehow have a way of making you smile, they are cute if you take away the rust, the oil and danger factor. We had fun in the mini and decided we would do something daring, something that involved travelling a long way… down South OMG! We registered for the London to Brighton Mini Rally and looked forward to the adventure then disaster struck! It think it must have been Easter because I was at home and not in Hull at University. I was waiting for Martyn to pick me up to take me to the pictures, he was late and I was getting anxious, he was very rarely late as he only lived in the next village on from mine. In the days before mobile phones there was nothing you could do but wait a while then start ringing round peoples houses if you were looking for someone. It was getting close to the point where I was going to ring his Dad when he turned up at the doorstep, without the mini. “Where’s the car?” I asked “Upside down on the heights road” he replied. My heart skipped a beat and everything went in slow motion. I remember my Dad got a sweeping brush and we set off in the sooty van back to the scene of the accident. It looked dreadful. The passenger side roof was completely caved in and poor old KOM sat on her roof facing the wrong way. Thank god it hadn’t gone down the hillside. It was so close to the edge, if he’d gone down there who knows when we would have found him…! Poor old Martyn was then told off for leaving the scene of an accident - what else are you supposed to do when you’re in the middle of no-where? And had to watch his little car be towed away never to be seen again. It was a very sad day and I think the guy who ran him off the road got away with it. Our dreams of attending the London to Brighton Mini Rally were shattered and we thought that was the end of it. Luckily our parent took pity on us and another mini was sourced and prepared for the grand trip! Our first rally - of any kind - Wahoo!! She was a 1275 GT in blue and she was lovely. We left Hull in may 1993 took our first trip over the Humber Bridge and headed south. We were bound for Crystal Palace and a small place by the sea called Brighton, which apparently is a little bit like Hebden Bridge by the sea…! (To be continued…)

Goodbye to old friends, hello to new ones!

If my memory serves me correctly this time last year I had just given one months notice of my intention to leave the employment of Tunstall Healthcare. It was this time twelve months ago that we made the decision to change our lives forever, to embark on an adventure that we could barely believe would actually ever happen, but it did. I have had eleven of the best months of my life and the adventure just keeps on going. Next week sees a new chapter in my life, a new job and a new routine. It comes without the stress of driving anywhere and allows me more than enough free time to do as I wish. This is something I didn’t bank on. I never thought it would be possible for us to live on one wage for so long, never mind be able to afford me the luxury to start part time work. It’s very true what they say ‘you live to your means’. Selling up before we left helped, it enabled us to streamline our finances. We were no longer paying for tax, mot and insurance. I cancelled the ridiculous number of direct debits for things we never used, including the ‘charge’ for having a ‘prestige’ bank account with benefits I had forgotten were included! It’s amazing the things you just continue to pay for just because you don’t get around to canceling them.

In the past few weeks we have further reduced our collection of vehicles. We decided we needed a change. Martyn was getting fed up of the embarrassment of driving a yellow Saxo (I did point out that this is Brighton... Nobody would think anything of a bloke driving a ‘girls’ car down here...!). We also needed a vehicle that could transport Martyns Lambretta back from Yorkshire. Martyn has always liked the Mazda ‘Bongo’ cars. They are Japanese imports that convert into motorhomes. Enough room for a bike but not too big to drive to work everyday. After many internet hours and a trip to Chichester we decided the Bongo wasn’t for us, although I did like the name...! We were introduced to a Nissan Elgrand by one of the Bongo dealers and really fell for the look. They were much chunkier than the Bongo and commanded a bit more respect. More importantly they came with leather seats. They also came with a price tag that I wasn’t all that comfortable with and after further research I finally found the perfect vehicle, the Nissan Largo. Slightly smaller than the Elgrand but with a much better price tag! The nearest one was in Bournemouth a mere 80+ miles away. I thought we were onto a winner. I had researched the prices up and down the country and this seemed like a fair price. We were worried we might lose it so Martyn rang the company and told them we were interested and would be along the next weekend to see it. We were childishly excited at the prospect of buying a new toy and didn’t even mind the early start on a Saturday morning. The company selling the vehicle looked well established and respectable. Our hope was that they would take my Saxo in part exchange to save taking it back to Brighton and trying to sell it privately. By the time we arrived in Bournemouth I was desperately hoping they would take it off my hands. It was a dreadful journey with tailbacks and bad drivers. The Saxo has never been the most comfortable of cars and we were more than ready for a stretch by the time we got there. Straight away we pulled into the wrong forecourt. We had found the town ok and found a sign for the garage however it appeared they didn’t own most of the forecourt just a tiny bit to one side. Ummm, first worry...! We parked the car and got out. the Largo was taking pride of place in the middle of the ‘forecourt’ and it looked as though they had been trying to wash it, with some grubby water in grubby bucket. All the doors were open ready for us to view the soon to be ours pride of the road. I hid my initial disappointment. The stickers on the side were faded and some of the paint on the doors was peeling off. The inside looked great though, as long as you didn’t get in, shut the doors and breathe! Martyn seemed happy though and that was the main thing. It took around four hours to seal the somewhat ‘interesting’ deal, the details of which should never be published. The Saxo found a new home ending my final link with Tunstall. The car was bought as transport to and from there and it held many memories good and bad about the place. It was good for me to be able to finally say goodbye and move on. It was also a massive relief not to have to drive it back to Brighton to be honest. As we pulled out of the forecourt in our new ‘bus’ we waved goodbye to the guys there and I couldn’t help but feel slightly anxious about the whole deal. They seemed glad to see us go! One other thing struck me as we lurched out onto the road, not just the strange knocking sound from underneath the car but the disgusting smell. We literally drove back to Brighton with our heads out of the window. I barely dared to touch anything inside in case I caught some deadly disease. Whoever had owned this vehicle was not big on cleanliness! We decided the first thing we needed to do was get it cleaned. We pulled into a valeting shop in Lancing, just outside of Brighton and got a quote. The very nice chap looked at the bus and shook his head. I thought he was going to decline the job, instead he said “Bring it round when we open at 9 am, give me four maybe five hours” “How much?” “£80.00” After spending two hours smelling in the aroma of the stinky car we agreed it was a fair price.

Bright and early on a very sunny Sunday morning we set off for Lancing. We had to go the long way round because of the Brighton marathon, how inconsiderate of them to close the road we needed!! We arrived dead on time and left the bus with a different chap which didn’t bode well. He looked and laughed and said “It will be three to four hours mate!”. Our precious new purchase was left in his capable hands as we headed into Shoreham on foot to find some breakfast. It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining and we walked via the house boats and over the bridge. If all went to plan we would be back to pick up the bus just in time. We had left our number with them so they could ring us when they had finished. We found a lovely place for breakfast and had a good look around Shoreham including the yacht club before making our way back towards the valeters. It was around midday and we decided to walk up the beach. I had my suncream at the ready and thought I was well prepared. We discovered a lagoon we didn’t know about and a little sailing club. We sat on the beach for a while before deciding we needed to get out of the sun. We walked and walked and walked in the search for a cafe without success. We found a shack selling drinks but all the table in the shade were full. 1pm came and went then 2pm. We had walked past the place a number of occasions and noting that work was still in progress left them to it. By 3pm we really couldn’t stay in the sun any longer, we went round to see if they were nearly done. “Nearly done” The chap said. “It’s been harder than I thought, the owner must have been a smoker and dog owner”. ‘You don’t say’ I thought to myself. “Why don’t you go sit on the beach a while, it’s just up there, I’ll ring you when I’ve done, about ten minutes” ‘You mean that beach we’ve been sat on all afternoon getting cremated?’ I thought. He was oblivious to the crimson skin we were both now sporting. We had no choice but to leave him to it. Ten minutes didn’t sound too bad. An hour later we returned, we had still not received a phone call. We couldn’t wait any longer. Martyn was starting to look particularly peaky and my head was feeling very burnt. Note so self, always take a hat out with you. They found us some chairs and it was clear the chap was under pressure now. The guy we had seen the day before had taken over the job and it soon became apparent why it was taking so long. He had a hangover! It seems that he had decided to take a trip to London the night before and had been called in when we arrived. I’m not sure when he began the valet but he obviously didn’t expect us to turn up. As five o’clock approached so did closing time. The other guys pitched in to help so they could finish for the day. It was an epic! We finally got away just after five. I had missed the Grand Prix and was now sporting a red stripy tan complete with burnt ears. Those of you with good memories will remember that burning my ears is not a new thing for me and yet I never learn to apply suncream. I spent the next few days sporting ears that glowed in the dark, a red nose, shoulders and scalp. While Martyn sported a fabulous pair of bright red arms. There was one good thing though, the bus now smelled much better.

All in all it has been an expensive few weeks. Luckily the knocking noise was easily dealt with courtesy of a couple of new, relatively cheap bushes. The bus has taken us to Yorkshire and back complete with Lambretta. It has survived the Pennine hills and the M1 and more importantly is the comfiest thing I have ever sat in. I have not yet been brave enough to drive it but I guess I will at some point.

On a sadder note we finally said goodbye to the Herald. It has been a part of our lives since we were eighteen but had become difficult to keep. It needed lots of work and we don’t have the space or the money to do it now. It was a sad day but one that needed to happen so that we can move on. It has gone to a good place we think and to a very nice chap who seems to know what he is doing.

So starts a new chapter in this adventure. A new job and a new bus! We are hoping the bus will enable us to explore the coastline down here a bit more. The seats convert into a bed so we can set off in it at the weekends if we fancy. Martyn is even talking about taking up surfing... That should be interesting...!

The tide is turning...

As a new season begins so does a new chapter in my life. It was way back in February when I sent an application for a job working for a company right here on the marina. By the middle of March I figured they had found someone for the position and put it to the back of mind. I was gladly surprised to be invited for an interview a few days later, on April fools day of all days! The invitation arrived by email and I quickly responded that I would very much like to attend the interview on 1st march 2011... Not a good start. The following week I spent debating what outfit I should wear, something new I thought. I had a week or so before the interview so didn’t panic buy. I mooched around the shops getting ideas together. My plan was to do my shopping the week of the interview. I booked in at the hairdressers and thought I had a foolproof plan. I didn’t bargain on getting a cold. Martyn started with it first. He had had it a week before I started to feel the sore throat coming on. Then the headache, the bodyache and finally the runny nose. My interview was on the Friday and by Monday I was walking round with pockets full of tissues. The weather turned lousy which didn’t encourage me to go shopping. On Monday I thought ‘I’ll feel better tomorrow, I’ll go then’ The same thought crossed my mind on Tuesday and Wednesday by Thursday morning I had nothing new to wear and finally admitted I would have to cancel my hairdressing appointment. My nose would have made Rudolph proud and the little bit of colour I had got back in my cheeks the previous week had been replaced by the pallor of Casper the Ghost. It was not looking good. I was just relieved that I didn’t have to travel far for the interview. I managed to pull together an outfit and make myself look somewhere near respectable. I packed my bag with tissues and just hoped that my nose wouldn’t run or that I wouldn’t start to cough halfway through. Of course that was never going to happen. it started with a cough that went on for a good ten minutes which inevitably made my nose run. I felt so sorry for the lovely people interviewing me. I just hope they didn’t end up with it too.

Of course the cold cleared up almost immediately after the interview but I still had a problem, I really wanted this job. It sounded great, very exciting and just up my street. The people were so nice and very polite about my germs. They had more people to interview the following week so a tense few days followed. I kept my phone my side constantly, checking all the time. By Thursday the following week I was trying to prepare myself for disappointment and decided to wash the boat in the lovely sunshine. I still continued to check my phone, or so I thought. It started to get hot around midday so I ventured inside for a while to cool off. Six missed calls... It was actually two missed calls but because the callers had left messages 121 continued to try calling. Nervously I checked the messages. The first one was from a friend, doh! The second was the call I had been waiting for. I dialled the number back and got through straight away. I got the job!!! It was an amazing feeling. I was happy excited, relieved all at the same time. I wanted to jump up and down and shout it out to everyone. Of course I didn’t - the first thing I did was send Martyn a text post it on Facebook. I am not yet actually working and don’t know my start date but for the first time in a long time I am really looking forward to going to work!

Typical English weather!

Yesterday I had to wear my winter coat to go to the shop in.  I was not impressed.  I thought I had put it to rest for one season but no, this is England.  I had been fighting the urge to wear it for a few days if I'm honest but thought I would do the tough 'Northerner' thing and bat it out.  I have been accused by some on a particular social network site of becoming a 'Southern Softie'.  Mainly as a result of my complaining about falling foul to the recent germs that seems to be spreading across the country like an epidemic.  I don't mind the banter as I sit here on my boat on a Wednesday afternoon, the doors are open and I have a view across the marina reaching as far as the mansions on the seafront.  The sky is blue and I have a coffee and a bar of Lindt by my side.  The cold has gone along with the bad weather, now blue skies and a clear nose are making today a particularly good one.  So the tough guys up north can mock all they like, this 'Southern Softie' is going to make the most of it!