A Busy Sunday and Finally.........
Sunday morning, always a wonderful start when I hear the words – do you fancy eggs. No disappointment on the ‘egg event’ front, no sooner than the water was boiling than I heard some bad words. I’ve dropped one in using my new twongs. Oh. When I saw it though, what a quality event, there’s more outside the egg than in it........... I do hope today doesn’t follow this pattern though.
Well, I had to face it, it was time to leave my cave – permanently. Still behind on road trip in Mabel blogs but everything that can be spreadsheeted, every film that needed to be moved, every TV and police drama is where it should be. Every cupboard has been sorted, every everything that can delay the job I have been dreading starting has let me dangle. Oh well. Knife in hand, I made the first cut. The old, crispy, mucky vinyl with the discoloured sealant has to be stripped off, everything cleaned, replaced and my new hatch covers put up. Finally, knowing I would end up with bruised knuckles, probably a cut or two and several hours with my hands and arms up over my head..........I got on bravely, I had just stripped the one in the kitchen when Rod and Mary popped in. Brilliant, let’s hope they stay all day and we can teach them how to play backgammon....... No, they wouldn’t stay, things to do..... Back to it then. Oh it’s lunchtime. Can we have a game as part of our break. OK. That was a bad delaying ploy, I got hammered five nil. That dropped my three ahead to two and I lost some money. Then I had a brilliant idea, if I replace the vinyl having to use stainless steel staples that the shops have locked in a jewel case because of the cost of them, what about if I rub down the old glue and put a coat of white paint on and judge the result. Sounds like a plan. That spurred me into real action. No sooner the blow than the lounge one had been stripped and it too had a first coat on. I should say that accomplishing the said lounge strip was achieved with some shaky moves. I WAS NOT going to dismantle the dining table, so I covered it with a trimmed and split dustbin bag and went on deck to do some of it from above. Bear trusted me with his Stanly knife and things went quite well. It was finished by standing on the settee, one foot on the table for balance and some dodgy goings on. Left hand holding window frame, right hand slashing – one slip and it would have been one heck of a story explaining myself in the Accident Department.
The paint was International boat paint. A lovely white. Oh, but my brush had only had water soluble paint on it so between uses I had plunged it in methylated spirit – the hairs went like a deranged hedgehog on speed. No worries I’ll just give them a short back and sides. I won’t ask as the skipper came through to get something out of his potting shed - for the fifteenth time........., brush now trimmed, lounge window got first coat. Back went my tame hedgehog into the jar of spirit.
A little while later I heard loud, threatening words, something to do with something being ducked and hissing, mastered and ducked again. I went to investigate. There was Bear, everything out of the back lazerette, him in situ. What’s wrong. Oh its always the bolt furthest away that wants to be a so and so.
Back I went to strip the hatch in our en suite. Now this is filled with ‘stuff’’, not to be thwarted in my task, I shook out my bin liner, covered the offending pile, half the job done on deck, half in. First coat done. Just started the hatch in front of the potting shed, when in and out came the captain, my mess trampled through Beez. Sorry. If you come back through one more time I will inflict serious damage on you. Yes dear. I’m getting back into my cave now. If I get cramp can you come and help me out. I’ll think about it.
Now although the next hatch was the easiest to strip, the glue didn’t scratch off like the first three. I know, I’ll try spirit. That went quite well but the tiny paper-like cuts on my fingers really started to sing. The glue balled up and made a mess all over my fingers and was dropping off in sticky dollops. I know, I’ll try acetone. Nope, that wasn’t any better, I’ll go back to spirit. Acetone moist tissue in bin, that happens to stand next to the gas detector and all hell broke loose. Bin moved, bread board used as a fan, noise stopped. Back to cleaning glue. All done, painting, oh there’s a bitey on my middle digit poised with jaws wide open, quick thinking I’ll paint it, that stopped it. It was a success story, however the paint managed to work its way on to the pair of adjoining digits, now I have a white mess on three. Brush back in jar, spirit tissue to fingers. What did I do, throw the tissue in the bin, guess what........... more fanning with bread board. Paint lid shot into washing up bowl urrggghhh, give me strength. Last hatch to strip, our bedroom.
I went back into our room - Oh my word. The combination of meths and acetone Beds was off his face, haven’t seen him in that state since he flew on a magic carpet in Morocco after helping himself to a lit hookah. Bernie had wisely buried his head in his dads pillow, Bobby and Claude were nowhere to be seen.
Getting tired now, the last hatch was beastly. Once again done half in, half out, the temptation was to join the boys under the covers, thoughts of cave dwelling easy on the memory. All done, eventually, time to check on the skipper.
Walking past the sea toilet, I sigh, will Beez ever be back to rights......... The skipper is still happy in his cave, would you like supper brought out I sing cheerily. I’m not going to answer that, I’ll just say no comment. Grrr. Don’t you growl at me, I don’t think you are in any position to be giving me attitude and lip. No dear. I can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel but I do now feel the breeze. Lucky you, my job list has only got the merest dent in it........
I wistfully look past the recumbent Bear, one day I will look out off the back of Beez and see water, crystal clear, azure blue water – won’t I ???
ALL IN ALL THINGS WILL ACHE ON THE MORROW METHINKS
APPROACHING THE LAST BEND IN THE TUNNEL