Right place at the right time. Bonjour Paris.
You seem so far away from the boiler room on
the boat I've been spending more time in recently.
No central heating or hot water for the last
few cold days, after getting a new hose for water
supply and filling up the diesel tank. But that's
not the biggest problem for me. More than for
my comfort and convenience. I'd just like to
have things fixed, problems solved. The semi
-regular electricity trip doesn't shock me (get
it?) especially now that I know where to go to
switch it back on, and doing the washing up in
borderline icy water probably has some health
benefit (who knows?) I have neighbours I've been
sending my home cooking to, almost as regularly
as the boat needing water supply, and... I can
always have a hot shower on their boat now, apparently.
They have promised they won't look or tell the
other neighbours. I've been enjoying good friends
coming over for a casual Indonesian dinner on
the boat. Though I must admit, I enjoy my time
alone more. Probably too much more for a social
creature. I take pleasure in going up and down
the gorgeous narrow red spiral stairs a hundred
times a day to move things around and tidy up;
in making and sipping my coffee or soy matcha
latte upstairs in the bright open plant kitchen;
in sitting at my creative desks to read or write
something or at my work desk to do admin and
video calls with clients; in playing music on
my Roberts radio upstairs while cooking; or on
my record player downstairs while just thinking.
And I think a lot. The idea of living on a boat
doesn't excite me. I'm loving it, even with the
regular surprises, but I don't see it as an excitement.
Well, if you know me at all, you know I don't
get excited. I'm loving the unusual space, the
water around me, the movement, gentle or less
so, the isolation it provides for me, and the
constant learning and problem solving. It makes
me feel closer to myself as I get to know myself
better. Terrifying, I know, but I watch horror
films regularly. You seem so far away, with all
the paperwork required for my long -stay visa,
and when there's any delay in getting any document,
you feel even further. But not forgotten. Yet.
I guess I'm just living in the present more these
days. Because when there's still enough water
in the tank to flush the toilet, I'm reminded
of my existence. I can flush, thus I exist. That,
and my casual meditations. I feel that I miss
things, places, or people less here on the boat.
Since moving in two weeks ago, my son has been
once to take me to a fancy jazz dinner as a birthday
present last weekend. My teenage daughter arrived
yesterday on the train by herself this last couple
of times to stay for a few days. My old friend
Katie, who knows my antics quite well and coincidentally
doesn't require showering regularly, is visiting
from Paris for a few days until tomorrow. And
my Parisian boyfriend knows where to find me
when he misses me badly enough. Things are going
well. No, things are going great. I'm not planning
on rushing into trialling my supper club on the
boat. I'm just going to do what feels right.
At the moment, it feels right to have solitary
hours to contemplate and brainstorm internally
and type a few words peacefully in between my
mundane, boaty activities. I am in the right
place at the right time, even when the toilet
doesn't flush, occasionally. And I believe this
acknowledgement is what will take me to the right
places at the right time. Always. Albert Bridge
says hello. Londres. Le 26 octobre 2025. Je t
'embrasse.