Today at work I've been showing my photos of Chertsey to anyone who'll look. Mostly they think I'm mad. Are you going to live on it, they say. Well, no, probably not, though I'd like to spend lots of time on it. When I tell them that no, I won't be putting a cabin on it, they look at me uncomprehendingly. What can I possibly want it for? To make it beautiful, more beautiful than it already is, and then get together and compare rivets with lots of like-minded people ('lots' is a relative concept, of course). Sounds perfectly sane.
No sooner was I back at work last week, than I became aware of the new perspective ownership of a boat like this brings. The building housing my office used to have a resident caretaker, but since he retired, his flat on the top floor is being converted to more offices. All sorts of ancient kitchen appliances, sanitary ware and general rubbish has appeared in the area in front of my basement office window, stayed a while, and then been spirited away. But what did I see there on Thursday? Two 100-gallon water tanks. Fate or what? Having had no success in locating, let along negotiating with the builders, tomorrow I plan to ring up the Estates department and see if I can effect their salvage.
Had a meeting this evening of all the people involved in teaching a particularly broad course I was involved in this year. One of the other people present taught history, specialising in London in the 30s. One of his classes was a walk around Docklands, but I wasted no time in accosting him in the tea break and persuading him that what his students really needed was a trip on Tarporley. This was received with some enthusiasm, and it was also suggested that I might like to give a talk to some of his other students about boats and carrying on the GU and stuff. I thought at first I probably don't know enough about it, but I bet I could crib sufficient material to fill half an hour or so, and think of all the lovely slides I could show.