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On the deck

It surprises me that this is the first time I’m writing from the boat. Considering I moved here in February, I’ve made shamefully little use of evenings that could’ve born long and reflective blog entries. So here I am, ticking off an item from the ever-growing (and rarely decreasing) to-do list. I’m sitting out on the deck of the boat, surrounded by the evening sun and its reflection in the water. The river is full of young ducklings, goslings and signets*, and thanfully the only disruption to the peace comes in the occassional form of a plane overhead or of a passing train over the bridge. There’s a woman reading on the deck of the boat opposite, and most pleasing of all, I’m the only person out here on the deck of this one. Strangely but pleasingly, everyone else is inside.

One of the worst things about infrequent blog updates is that each new and rare entry seems to cry out for a summing-up-of the time since the last. Of course, there’s far too much to write down, and if there’s anything that needs conveying about my recent past, it’s a sense of relaxation, winding down, and – dare I say it? – happiness. By and large, this is down to my change of surroundings, and despite the lack of privacy and the frustratingly thin walls, life on the boat is good, and in Richmond I have found a new home (for now), to the point where I don’t think I could ever live in another part of London. The day I move out of Richmond will be the day I move out of London.

Duck In A Pot, behind me, is shuffling. Apparently, she has a new chick, although how it’s breathing underneath her I’ll never know. But then, making a flower pot your home is not usual duck behaviour anyway.