Another Year, Another Winter – Getting Ready for Winter Aboard a Narrow Boat

I am very pleased to announce that nearly a month after our first fire of the season, namely as a result of my temper tantrum (It was seventeen degrees outside), we have not re-lit it! So I’m sat here feeling pretty proud.

In honesty for our first year the start of the cooler season and the ability to light the fire was very welcome, we wanted to experience it’s cosiness and the quaint cuteness of life aboard in the cold months. This year, I’m over all of the rose tinted malarkey, I now except the reality that the winter is long, cold and hard, and the longer we can get away with it not being here, well the better in my opinion. (If only for to avoid the ridiculous price of coal).

The summer has been simply fantastic, if not a times a little too scorchio, but as we close down on our second cold season aboard we go into it knowing exactly what to expect.

Hello Darkness My Old Friend

3ec

We all know how rubbish the winter is, when you wake up in the morning and it’s dark you come home in the evening and it’s dark. Only with boat life you can times that by ten. You see with boat life you more often than not find yourself in more remote places than your average house, remote places, by default are darker. It’s rubbish! Add to that slippy muddy footpaths and you have the perfect recipe for an unexpected and particularly rancid bath!

The Storm is Upon Us

49bfd5575ee3496103d50e0c1fb576e3

Last year seemed to be particularly awful for storms, or maybe it’s just the new Met Office decision to name storms, makes you remember them more, like an old adversary. You can take it on my official word that storms aboard are hideous. You often go to bed wondering what county or in some cases country you will wake up in. Part of the problem is that the boat seems to magnify the sound greatly, a bit of winter drizzle can easily sound like a downpour, your best bet is to remain under the covers until May.

Can We Just Make Human Hibernation a Thing

download

Do you know what, the lovely compact space of a floating home, combined with a roaring fire and fluffy new winter slippers is honestly fabulous and the cosiest experience of my life. There is of course a major problem with this, it’s too cosy to want to leave. You’ll find me being the ultimate winter bear, eating my body weight in cheese (To be fair this is standard all year round), then dosing off at 2pm on a Sunday afternoon. If I start a petition for human hibernation can I count on your signatures fellow boaters?

Lets just burn all our money

download (1)

Have a mentioned coal is flaming expensive, and that’s more than a tad annoying when you rely on it to not be frozen alive. We wrote at great lengths last year on how just throwing notes directly onto the fire would be the same, and not involve the hassle of having to stock up on coal. On this note being bad all year so Santa loads his sleigh with coal for you is seeming like a super idea!

Goodbye Space

21

I’ve wittered on about how we’ve found the boat to actually have more space than we ever imagined, a proportion of it is massively under-utilised by us. However the winter see’s the end of this, the winter just takes up more space, whether it’s your big winter coat, fluffy socks and snuggle jumpers, or the build up of Christmas gifts and champagne (and Christmas cheeses).

But anyway here we are, you can really start to feel those colder months knocking on the door, but this year my friends the rose tints are off, winter we are ready for you missy!

James and Kirsty

Could you tell I was craving cheese at all in this post?

A diary of live aboard life

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s