LIFE ABOARD Life Aboard BY MARIANNE BARTRAM
MARIANNE LIVES ABOARD THE MV TRESHNISH ON THE RIVER DART WITH HER HUSBAND NIGEL
Halloween! I have two – equally peculiar – possibilities currently under consideration. One: by some strange coincidence, we are both simulta- neously trying to have each other sectioned under the Mental Health Act, or Two: the boat is haunted. Examples: we were sitting in the Day Saloon so, about nine feet from the Port gunwale, chatting over the day, when we were interrupted by a very loud (and close) cross between a snarl, howl, roar and growl all in one. We shot to the gunwale (rendered fearless by wine) but there was nothing to be seen and the water was a flat calm with no disturbance. Hub tutted … which as responses go for some reason had me in fits. The next strange event was when Hub was in bed but had indiges- tion. He likes to make his presence felt by fidgeting and moaning until I wake up. My berth was leaking so I was sleeping on the other side of the door and offered to fetch some indigestion tablets as I was nearer to the first aid kit. I handed them in, closed the door and went back to bed. He felt a female touch checking his pulse and place a hand gently on his stomach and assumed it was me (as if!) and said “I’m fine now, thanks, love”. It was then that he heard me snore. His hair lifted gently from his scalp but he knew he had to turn over to see what or who was there. Nothing, of course. In the morning when he told me about it, I declared, merrily, “It was an Angel” because I knew it would annoy him. He tersely stated “be that as it may, I take great exception to being “interfered” with – even by an Angel”. I felt obliged to
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point out that at his age he should be grateful to be “interfered” with by anything, human or not! One night I woke up to hear Hub on deck. He was obviously having trouble dragging something heavy. I wondered if I should go up and help him.. He stomped loudly around and then actually rang the ship’s bell! Given it was two in the morning I thought this was a bit antisocial so I called up “Hang on, I’ll come up”. From Hub’s berth came a sleepy voice, “Wake up! You’re talking in your sleep”.
“You cannot imagine the vile things that cling to and gnaw at your hull which have to be scraped off. There are ropes of mussels and clusters of limpets. It is beyond disgusting. Since my mouth is seldom closed, I suffered greatly.”
I informed him there was some- body on the deck but he said he was always getting up to check on footsteps which weren’t real and anyway, it was “my turn”. So, armed with the ship’s axe (I don’t take prisoners), I went up to check. Dead calm, no wind, nothing. This has happened many times, sometimes in broad daylight! There was a time I’d have asked fellow Dart users if they experience this sort of thing but these days I know better. They would take huge delight in regaling me with tales that would guarantee I never sleep again for the rest of my life! Moving on to Poltergeist activity. I
am the first to admit that even after all this time we have yet to master the art of stowage. I can never find anything; it drives me mad. Exasper- ated, I went from stem to stern writing down where everything was, but then I lost the list. I think I may have burst into tears at that point. When we lived ashore, not in mansions, but large-ish houses, I don’t recall ever losing anything or not knowing where it was. Here, in a much smaller space, it just drops out of the universe. We lost a saw. I ask you, how can you lose a three feet long yellow handled saw? We searched the whole boat and gave up. A few months later I noticed it on the sole in the wheelhouse. “Found the saw then, Hub!” “No - why?” We were astounded. We have found a way round it though. If you buy another one, the original one will instantly appear, or if you are looking for your penknife, pretend to look for your glasses and the penknife will be right in front of you. Is it any wonder that I can feel my (always tenuous) grip on sanity begin to loosen?
I decided the answer was to have less stuff on board. Especially rust- ing tools. I filled two bin liners but unfortunately Hub intercepted me and rummaged through, pouncing and retrieving various items with an anguished squawk, stroking them and looking at me reproachfully as if I’d binned baby ducklings or some- thing. Somehow the tools all seem to have belonged to his Grandfather. High time for a new one then, I’d have thought … On a completely different subject
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