Perfect day?

[EventualBoater]

Time for another random question of mine. But im genuinely interested. 

Purely hypothetically.

You're out in the middle of nowhere on your boat. There are no major jobs that need to be done. You can actually spend the day relaxing and doing what YOU want to do.

How are you spending that time?

[Tony Brooks]

Not now because of health issues, but when we had the boat, sitting in the shade of a tree on a comfortable chair supping iced Rosé wine, possibly with lemonade, and watching the world go by.

 

Also on the cruiser stern in the evening, after a days work or boating and watching the wildlife and sunset.

[matty40s]

Can't beat setting off on a cruise on a day like this morning.

 

[mrsmelly]

1 minute ago, matty40s said:

Can't beat setting off on a cruise on a day like this morning.

 

Those were the days

[Arthur Marshall]

[dogless]

A substantial  flight of locks with a good road and a pub at the end of the day 👍🏻

 

Rog

[Hudds Lad]

Stood on the back with the binoculars scanning the fields for anything interesting.

Looking and waving at passing boats.

Sprawled on the bed reading a book whilst J watches whatever rubbish she likes on the TV.

Measuring stuff for upgrades i'll probably not get round to.

Poking in the drinks cupboard to see what needs supping before it's too out of date.

Looking at maps to see what's coming up or what we've gone by.

Taking pics to send to a mate in the village who likes to see where we are.

Doing that days Birdle and getting tripped up by the size, again.  

[The History Man]

3 hours ago, Arthur Marshall said:

So you were serious Don? 

[Russ T]

Just a perfect day
Drink sangria in the shade
Moored in the Reeds
Just a perfect day
Drink sangria all's okay 
Then later, a number two and then noooo

The Lou is full

Oh, it was such a perfect day
Until I filled up the loo
Oh, such a perfect day
You just keep me hanging on
You just keep me hanging on

Just a full cassette 
With nowhere to go
The bog is brimming to overflow
No Elsan point near
It was such a perfect day
You made me forget my spare
I thought I could hold it

Oh, it was such a perfect day
Until I filled up the loo
Oh, such a perfect day
You just keep me hanging on
You just keep me hanging on

 

You're going to reap just what you sow
You're going to reap just what you sow
You're going to reap just what you sow

[Russ T]

Having recovered from the effects of last nights beer,and being somewhat embarrassed about my last response,I have given the question some more serious thought.

 

A day is usually perfect if nothing goes wrong. It will likely start off well,and slowly degrade through things you can't control. It's your response to these outside influences that will determine how perfect your day remains........

Starting at 100 Points: You wake up on your narrowboat to absolute stillness, mist rising off a glass like canal. The birds are singing, your cuppa tea is warm, and you slide the hatch open feeling like a serene river captain. Everything is good in the world; it is a truly immaculate day,a perfect day

 

95 Points: You immediately smash your kneecap clean into the squirrel stove with the velocity of a cannonball while trying to step out to untie the ropes.

 

85 Points: It takes three separate, deeply humiliating attempts to untie the dripping wet bowline because it has mysteriously frozen into a knot harder than a diamond encrusted engagement ring, despite it being a scorching 30 degrees in mid July. During the time it has taken you,you notice the front of boat has drifted out and is now wedged in the opposite bank.

 

70 Points: You successfully reverse out of your mooring spot, only to misjudge the turn and gently kiss a moored residential houseboat, eliciting a blood curdling, gravelly roar of, "Watch the bloody paintwork, ya helmet!" from a vest wearing local who is the exact spitting image of Rab C. Nesbitt nursing a hangover.

 

60 Points: Before you can even catch your breath, someone dives out of a nearby side hatch and screams bloody murder at you for going past on tick-over, claiming your three mile per hour idle speed is generating a tsunami capable of shattering every heirloom tea set within a five mile radius.

 

50 Points: Seeking solace, you attempt to pass a notoriously shallow bridge hole while daydreaming about a new life as a hermit, completely misjudge the clearance, and drive the boat so hard aground you displace about four tons of silt.

 

40 Points: You are forced to perform the traditional canal dance,scuttling back and forth across the roof of the boat like a demented chimpanzee to rock the hull off the mud, all while a queue of six holiday hire boats glares daggers at you and cracks open fresh cans of warm lager just to watch you suffer.

 

35 Points: Miraculously escaping the mud, you manage to navigate around a bend and moor up in a seemingly idyllic, sun drenched spot right by a picturesque lock, completely alone, surrounded only by peaceful, innocent ducks.

 

30 Points: That absolute serenity lasts precisely four minutes before the tranquil afternoon air is violently ruptured by the booming, ground shaking bass of club anthems blasting from a massive hen weekend boat that aggressively moors up on your rear button fender.

 

25 Points: Just as you try to block out the shrieks of "Man! I Feel Like A Woman!", a stag do boat every single member of which is dressed head to toe in cheap, sweaty Scooby-Doo costumes arrives and slams its bow directly into your front fender, completely sandwiching you between two competing festivals of pure psychological torture.

 

20 Points: Sweating through your shirt and desperate to flee this circle of hell, you leap to the controls to escape down the canal, only to slam to a halt and discover the lock is broken with an official red  warning sign strapped across the gate like a crime scene.

 

15 Points: You grab the tiller to reverse out of the death sandwich, only to realize with sheer, unadulterated dread that your boat is too long to turn around, and the last winding hole is a grueling, 15 mile reverse trek backwards.

 

10 Points: Hyperventilating and desperately needing a soothing brew to cope with your ruined life, you flick on the gas stove, hear a pathetic, hollow hiss, and realize you have completely run out of gas.

 

5 Points: In a blind panic to just move the vessel anywhere else on Earth, you fire up the engine to try your luck, only to be greeted by a terminal, metallic spluttering cough as the boat violently runs out of diesel and dies.

 

2 Points: Driven to the absolute brink, you stumble into the bathroom to relieve your bursting bladder, only to discover the toilet is completely full to the brim, and you accidentally left the empty spare cassette back in the boot of your car three counties ago.

 

0 Points: You lock yourself inside the humid cabin with a squashed packet of McVitie's digestives, listening to Shania Twain playing simultaneously at maximum volume from both ends of your boat while a six foot tall Shaggy the dog bangs rhythmically on your hull asking if you have a corkscrew.

 

-8 Points: You try to distract yourself from the abyss by logging into your favorite narrowboat internet forum for some digital sanity, only to discover that some absolute clown has written out your exact, miserable day verbatim in response to a prompt about what makes a perfect day.
 

Edited July 26 by Russ T

[EventualBoater]

@Russ T both of those response are *chefs kiss*

[Naughty Cal]

Having a few beers and watching the seals.

 

[Russ T]

2 minutes ago, Naughty Cal said:

Having a few beers and watching the seals.

 

This fella posed for us last year 

[Naughty Cal]

11 minutes ago, Russ T said:

This fella posed for us last year 

Our picture was taken literally around the corner from there in Blakeney Bay 😀

[Russ T]

Waking to the soft, rhythmic percussion of the tide lapping against the hull, today unfolded like a gift. As the incoming waters coaxed our keels from the slumber of the sand, the boat shifted in her gentle dance against the mooring lines, welcoming the first golden breath of morning sun across the hatch.

 

Only hours before, a heavy rain had drummed its urgent cadence upon that very same hatch, while we drifted in profound security just feet below. It is a shelter known only to those who rest warm and cocooned, cradled by the wild elements yet untouched by their storm.

 

More tomorrow if I cba