Hello all
thanks for addressing the music issues. Something will be sorted very soon but, ahem, Donk, it won't be a unit like yours. I know Tassie is a quiet little place, but you're not really that far behind the times are you?? By the way, do you still play tapes in that thing???
And thank you Shaggy for your encouragement and words of wisdom. I found myself very emotional reading your message. You seem to have the uncanny knack of just 'getting it' on so many levels. After much ado, I finally feel validated. I am eternally grateful for that gift.
And you're right....I knew this was not going to be an easy ride. There's been a succession of boats throughout my life from my Sabot, Moth, Dad's Hood 20 and Triton 721, my Sunmaid 20, Cal34, foray across to the Dark Side with a Crowther 32, and now, reborn with the Folkboat. The difference back then was, I was a daughter or a wife. I had schoolwork to do or young children to care for while either my late father or my husband (ex) did the lion's share of the maintenance on our boats. Having said that, though, I mucked in where I could, and that included annual out of water stuff. No division of labour there....dawn to dusk...filthy, exhausting...time on the hard is money. Rhetorical....we all know that

. My point is I had no romantic illusions.
I really like Nic Douglass' Adventures of a Sailor Girl. Nic is the kind of girl I would like to have been as a young thing - gorgeous, fit, bubbly, competent, confident, socially capable. I am the absolute antithesis of Nic! I'm old, grumpy (just ask me about MY music!!); AND I have developed a transom the width of, well, the width of a Pogos'!! I reckon I could do
Misadventures of a Sailor Girl! You see, it's not only disasters with dropping sunglasses in varnish then upending buckets of Turps that I have orchestrated. Oh no, dear reader.
My little Folkie has delicious tan vinyl upholstery on the inside of the cabin ...original....straight out of 1977 when she was built. Complete with 39 years of mould spores spreading throughout the funky pattern!! Wanting to keep her original, envisaging fondue parties, free love and psychadelic drugs ...okay, not really, it's just I can't afford to remove the vinyl for the time being....I set about cleaning the upholstery with a spray-on bleach-based product. The boat was open with what I thought, plenty of air flow. I had only completed behind one settee berth before my eyes and nose were burning; coughing madly; and feeling downright ill. That little episode ended in a smokers-like cough and shortness of breath which lasted for weeks.
Then another time, I go down just to sand one handrail. (You see, I steal little bits of time away from my daughters and the boat is only 5 minutes from home hehe

) It's warm, but I don't feel that hot. I'm sunscreened on all the usual places. I ignore the fact that my t-shirt has ridden up at the back and I am sustaining what turns into being a very, very nasty stripe of sunburnt flesh. Mmm,,, what is that smell?? So, one last little job before I pack up. Just want to try out the Oxalic Acid crystals and water mixture to see how it brings the timber up. There's no tap on the pontoon, so I walk up to the side of the house, fill the bucket, and suddenly I am overcome by this crushing sensation of my skull. I'm not sure whether I'm having a stroke, heart attack, I'm going to faint, or just drop dead. I don't have my phone. No-one's at the house. I'm a bit bloody scared actually. I wonder whether my girls will be worried? I lie down on the patio at the back of the house for a good fifteen minutes and I'm okay...not great, but okay. I pack up quickly, go home and, my body so exhausted from my little turn, fall into a deep sleep for a couple of hours. When I wake, it's 5.30ish in the evening. I confess what happened to my eldest daughter. I ask her sheepishly whether she and her sister would have come looking for me. She looks at the clock, notices the time, and says, "yeah, well, it's getting on for dinner time, so we would have come looking". She was wearing a smile as she said it
Object of my desire