I have been reliably informed that the definition of my boat, or any boat for that matter, is a 'hole in the water that you pour money into'. But it's a secret, dear bloggees, between you and me. My wife MUST NOT be informed. But what the heck - in for a penny, in for several pounds. After all, it's not every day that one gets given a boat, so at least one can do is to look after it. And a couple of hundred quid for bead-blasting sounds quite reasonable. And with mooring costs and moving costs, insurance costs and licensing costs, it is, er, cough cough, the season to be jolly. And if I were to be writing this post-sunset instead of pre-sunrise, I'm sure it would all sound jolly cheap indeed, as I sleepily sip my port at the end of the day. Somehow, this morning's tea only serves to make the reality more clear to me.
But good news - I may be joining the Norman Boats Appreciation Society, if the Boat For My Potplants turns out to be a Norman 22. Or could it be a Teal 22? How exciting! Sooner or later all will be revealed as my membership to Yachting And Boating World Forum proves to be invaluable, in the unfolding story that is The Boat For My Potplants.
Now! Under which mattress did I hide that brown paper envelope? Because sadly I can't seem to find it. I'd better buy a Lottery ticket today.
Welcome to my blog about an old boat that used to cruise the Norfolk Broads in the '70's. I was given it to renovate and bring to Wivenhoe in the early noughties, and since then it's morphed into a few guises: a pirate radio station, a home to a gorilla, an open garden, a Writer's Retreat, a party venue, a vinyl haven, and even a golf course. Most importantly it's always been a peaceful sanctuary for a few pansies and other flowers. Welcome to my Boat For My Potplants...
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