Well, I never did tell, did I what our secret source of fun was. It was... whisper it... being on the committee of HNBOC. Oh how we love a committee (until we remember how much we hate it, that it). Jim has been co-opted as Fens rep, and it appears (subject to a sample press release) I may be about to become their press officer. Last Saturday we went to a committee meeting, prior to a very interesting and enjoyable presentation of photographs of Birmingham by Bob May. So there it is, our secret vice revealed.
And so to bring this bang up to date, here I sit in Chertsey's cabin, the kettle burbling away and my cheeks reddened from the heat of the stove, looking forward to setting off tomorrow for what promises to be a bit of real winter boating. I did see a forecast last week that promised as low as -9, so that's what I shall claim it was, as I don't have a thermometer. I am, wardrobe-wise at least, fully prepared for this eventuality, starting with two thermal vests and finishing with the arctic parka, while for lower down I have my marvellous three sizes too big jumble sale Rohan padded trousers, and more thermals. Less dance of the seven veils, more pass the parcel.
So, hopefully we are all set. The car shuffle has been done (dear old Fang starting first turn of the key. Tufty, we have discovered, is a summer car, as the heater doesn't work. I returned from Braunston last week all wrapped up and with a blanket over my knees - proper motoring!) A quick lok at the new mooring shows it to be very nice indeed, and I was reminded that not only is there a toilet there, it actually has heating! Oh luxury indeed. Tomorrow then, we should leave with the dawn. Allowing three days for a trip that would take only two with longer daylight hours, so should be OK.