What a night followed the day before. No heat: not the end of the world, wrap up warm, use my quilt when I’m watching TV, although problem not solved, at least it’s alleviated. Funny looking toilet water: OK, don’t flush it; use the sink to drain what needs to be done. Don’t tell anybody, whose to know.
But last night now, I surely didn’t sleep a wink. All through the night I’m hearing waste or water or waste and water, or water and waste, what ever the hell it was, rolling around in the three huge banks that this green giant of a baby holds. There’s a sloshing this way, then a sloshing that way, a deep rumbling murmur as the boats pull and rub up against each other. Not really a situation which promotes peace and tranquillity. Although the boat must have been pitching an awful lot in the night for the thing to make such a much damn awful noise, this must be one aspect of living on the river which I must have got accustomed to. As when I’m lying down I do feel as if I am straight. A small mercy in this novice boatman’s life.