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Life Aboard BY MARIANNE BARTRAM


MARIANNE LIVES ABOARD THE MV TRESHNISH ON THE RIVER DART WITH HER HUSBAND NIGEL


first reaction was “good! - it needed a wash”. Reality kicked in and I knew I had to taste it. Unhappily It was salt. I enquired of hub, “ Are we sinking?” He thought it over. “Not yet.” After a pause I asked, “Is this an emergency? “ He glanced up from the aft hatch and informed me “ Not quite.” Frankly, I didn’t know whether to admire his sangfroid or punch him. We set all our pumps to work but we needed more clout and called Harbour Patrol. As always they were brilliant. Rob came aboard, pumped out three tons of sea water (it’s not as bad as it sounds on a 36 ton boat). He strode from stem to stern checking sea cocks and the stern gland. We were blown away by his calm confidence and cabability but I was a little hurt that he didn’t notice my new curtains - still, thats men for you... and we were nudged over to the scrubbing grid. The problem was immediately obvious - a little caulking had been nibbled out by fish - probably grey


J


ust as I thought life couldn’t get any worse, it promptly did. We woke up to find the galley sole had an inch of water sloshing about. My


mullet - pulling on weed. A lesson to us to antifoul her more often - it’s just that I swore I would rather die than do it again but I didn’t mean it! We fixed it promptly and she has been bone dry ever since. So now we are on the scrubbing grid, we may as well


A lesson to us to anti foul her more often - its just that I swore I would


do it. Oh God. It was our wedding anniversary. Most women are wined and dined in a restaurant but I was ankle deep in stinking seaweed (heaving) crouched under the hull of a very large boat. I felt something on my head when


rather die than do it again but I didn’t mean it !!


I was spading off a rope of mussles. I demanded of hub “What is wriggling on my head?” He was delighted! (he loves all wildlife) “It’s a little fish. Must have come out of the mussels”. He batted it off (rather hard in my opinion). I am partial to a dish of mussels in garlic and cream. I must


have scraped off a ton in the last week and they are laying forlornly on the grid crunching as I stamp over them, enraged, on the wrong end of a hoe yelling “get off the hull you hateful little b******s” (you can imagine the word yourself.) I will still order a plate of them, not being one to bear a grudge but I might pass on the slimy yellow anenomes despite the orange scrabbling creatures they contain which might be tasty. I love seafood but antifouling gives you pause for thought. It is truly disgusting. I am cut to pieces by the sharp edges of shellfish. And yet - how odd - I am having fun! Clearly I have finally lost my wits and there is no further mental downward spiral to be achieved. We shall see. The boat has given us a savaging recently. A beasting.


Maybe she doesn’t want us to sell her but all I can say is that the television broke, the water pump followed it so nothing comes out of the taps, the underfloor


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