Lets Go to Wick.

Seeing as my all female crew (!) have blown my cover I may as well get on and write this.
I’m currently enduring a little forced exile at work. All boats eat money, a fact that many people who don’t own a boat (yet- but want to) don’t seem to grasp. They are the ones who say ‘oh, it must be so bohemian living on a boat’; well, unless I’ve got my history all wrong and bohemians actually do wear filthy overalls all the time, work 27 hours a day, never go to the pub, suffer near frostbite during the winter months and headaches the rest of the time, and also hemorrhage money on a regular basis before imbibing anything naughty- or even getting on board- then no, it’s not exactly a bohemian existence thus far. Wendy Ann is no exception, and because Becky and me have some fairly large plans for the very near future we’ve been quick to realize that some bugger will have to pay for them. Well, this time that bugger is me. Therefore right now I’m absolutely nowhere near my vessel, and have been for nearly three weeks, and I miss her terribly. What’s worse, I’ll still be nowhere near Wendy Ann 2 in four weeks time. There is definitely, as far as I’m concerned, a big downside to this particular fact. But on the other hand, some bugger has to earn the money. So yes, I’m in another country, doing the same thing I always do, in fact last week I was doing this:

You can take the boy out of the shipyard, but you can't tek the shipyard out of the boy. So there.

The only thing that galls me ever so slightly is that a few weeks ago, just as the date for departure loomed my work on board Wendy Ann was really going well and I was loving it. I mean, I was seriously fucking shattered, but boy was it looking good, and it was with a very heavy heart that I dragged myself away for the last time before this period of necessary abstinence.
I’m very happy that Becky is minding the vessel closely while I’m away, and I’m even happier that she’s roped a gang of her attractive friends into helping out.I just wish I was there to enjoy the privilege. Our boat is so much a part of my life that she’s ingrained herself under my skin indelibly, so it’s obvious that I find it so hard to leave her (this probably has something to do with all my blood, sweat, tears and money sloshing around in the bilges) but while I graft away in a foreign country for another boat shaped dream I’m reassured that my missus is deriving some pleasure from our creation that is, well, distinctly her own.
Meanwhile, whilst away from the boat my own experience of life has turned into something about as comprehensible as this:


Mind you, sometimes I'm wonder if it's always been this way. Hopefully things will soon be back to normal, whatever that is, and I’ll be back before you know it for the big plan. Then I promise I’ll make all the girls swab the decks. Naked.