Ships That Go Bump in the Night

When a heatwave is forecast for Pembrokeshire, Tom checks the tide times and we decide to head for the boat. I pack thermals, a winter hat and gloves and, at the last minute, throw in my bikini. We leave the berth at Neyland late afternoon, when the tide’s in our favour. There’s very little wind so we potter down the Haven with the engine running. Apart from a few commercial vessels, there’s almost no one else about and it’s a real privilege to have the waterway practically to ourselves.

We pick up a visitors’ mooring under the fort at Dale just after half past seven and sit in the cockpit enjoying the evening sunshine, sipping Prosecco - because, hey, we’re on holiday - and posting smug pictures to social media.

Mrs Smug-McSmugface

At 1a.m. we’re woken up by a tremendous bang. Strong winds have arrived out of nowhere and are blowing in completely the wrong direction for our mooring. Blue Nun keeps trying to sail off the mooring and is snapped back by the lines like a very angry dog on a very short leash. Tom and I are rolling around like two peas in a very rattly sieve as half a gale moans through the rigging. Pretty soon, I’m moaning too. It’s a long time since I’ve felt this seasick and I’m utterly felled; I can't stand, can’t think, can’t sleep, can’t do anything except lie there wishing the world would stay still. When dawn breaks, Tom casts off and we make a very lumpy crossing to a sliver of a bay on the other side of the Haven where we’ll be a little more sheltered. Apart from the huge swells rushing in from the open sea which roll us from side to side…

With the sun coming up, the cabin starts to get hot. I crawl on deck then have to crawl back down and find my bikini and factor 50 suntan cream (remember that skin cancer? Yep, once bitten…). At last, a day of fabulous weather on the boat and I’m too ill to enjoy it! Even when a message appears on my phone asking me if I can write an urgent homes interior feature I have to ask Tom to reply for me as staring at my screen makes me feel queasy.

Late afternoon, when the tide’s turned again, we decide to head back to our berth at Neyland. The strong wind is against us, so it’s a very choppy passage, but I cope! I come to life! I’m not sick! Hey, what the heck, we’ll spend the night on the boat in the marina! Tom cooks a lovely meal, I manage to eat some of it, and we turn in for an early night safe in the knowledge that we won’t be rocked around by massive waves… At 3 a.m. we’re woken by blinding flashes of lightning and a deafening barrage of thunder which continues for an hour. The next morning, we decide to go home for a rest.

My First Book Signing!

It’s a fine, dry day and there’s an Italian market in the square outside Waterstone’s. Good for a book signing? ‘Bad,’ says Tim. The stalls are blocking the view of the shop and the fine weather’s keeping everyone outdoors. Hmm, that must be why they’ve only put one small poster up for my event, I mean why waste the Blu Tack? Tim demonstrates handing off the marauding hordes After much refolding of a black tablecloth and a rummage around for some books, I’m invited to take up my position at the author table somewhere between ‘fantasy and horror’, children’s books and a poster of the next author, Bobby ‘Iron Duke’ Windsor who’s signing on Monday. Once Tom, Lily, my lovely daughter, and her partner, Russ, are all sure I’m not going to run away, they leave me to it, taking it in turns to make sure I’m all right and bring me tea. Very soon, I notice a small boy watching me. When he returns with his family I learn that he would like to be a writer. His method, he tells me, is to rewr...

Since You've Been Gone

Well, Ma Mère, There have been so many times when I’ve gathered up all the little shiny moments I’ve collected during the day, ready to present to you in our evening phone call and then I remember all over again that you’re not there. But, Mum, so much has happened since you’ve gone - maybe you know, maybe you don’t - that I’ve decided to write to you instead. A few days after you died, we sold our house! After all those months! We even joked about you rattling cages somewhere. At first, nothing happened and then suddenly everything happened at a breathless pace and the next thing I knew I found myself driving (yes, me, driving!) along the M4 to Bridgend and the Time Capsule House, the one you said you and Dad would have bought. I remarked, when we first viewed it that if it was meant for us, it would come to us. Over a year later, when it had been under offer twice, we moved in. Oh, Mum, you and Dad would have loved this house; it’s peak Seventies and the decor - the pampas ensu...

Forever Young

Looking at the blurb for my new Lacura WrinkleStop from Aldi, I see that its active ingredient has been ‘proven to help • Reduce forehead wrinkles by 52% • Reduce crow’s feet by 24% • Restrict 82% of wrinkle muscle activity’ That’s quite a claim, isn’t it? Frankly, after years when my face looked like a lunar landscape thanks to the joys of acne, these days I’m just grateful to see a fairly blemish-free skin. Part of me wants to believe that the wonder cream’s making everything looking a bit smoother and tidier, but, hey, there’s also a lot of ‘aqua’ and ‘glycerin’ in the stuff, too. Besides, I could tamper with my skin as much as I like (and I don’t), but I’ve only got to stand next to my beautiful daughters to see the difference. Ma has wonderful skin, so the chances are there are some helpful genes in the mix, but my dad died far too young of cancer, so it’s not all good news. My dad was a carpenter. ‘You can’t get age from a tin, Miss Chris,’ he’d say when rubbing his hands o...

Home Thoughts Weekly

Search This Blog