My husband sold a boat today. A boat which he re-named with the Norwegian name for ‘bathtub’, as a reaction to someone’s joshing comment about how suitable it was for a North Sea crossing he was planning.
He successfully and single-handedly achieved the crossing in his bathtub more than 5 years ago: spending around 6 weeks aboard, rigging up a cleverly arranged tent each night, and tying everything down to avoid losing stuff over the side. Since then, he has acquired another boat which has – luxury of luxuries! – a small cabin, making sleeping and cooking just that tiny bit (ie LOADS!) easier. It has taken a while to decide to sell the bathtub. Strong memories, and no doubt an affection for the craft which gave him back some of his self-belief after a serious illness.
We watched her being towed away this afternoon with her new owners, ready for their own adventures. Quite a sad day…
…but on the bright side, the shed has now been emptied of all the related paraphernalia. Just waiting, I expect, for some new bits and pieces.