Sunshine and community

The gorgeous and totally un-British weather has made the whole living-on-a-boat thing something of a dream. We feel like we're on holiday at the weekends when we lie on deck reading the paper or cycle along the seafront to eat fish and chips on the beach. Friday is R's last day as a City boy - so goodbye office, suits, commute and all that crap and hello hanging out with wifey! I took on an extra job to ease his passage into unemployment (despite our outgoings going down two thirds, he was still very anxious taking this big step) so, rather annoyingly, now seem to be working waaaay more than I used to as I'm running my own business alongside. But hey, the plan was to spend more time together, that's why we did this, so I know things will work out. I might leave the extra job soon although I like the cushdi side of it; washing my clothes, eating and using the computer there are all nice little perks!

One of the most pleasing things about our new life is how many interesting and lovely people we have met. Although we lived in a village before where everyone knew everyone and there was loads of love and support (we went back at the weekend and felt like the prodigal children returning!), there's something about when you close your front door that shuts you off from the world. On a boat, your life is much more visible and whilst privacy is very much respected (noone stares at your boat if you're in, for instance) walking up and down the jetty or sitting on deck initiates many conversations. We quickly made friends here and everyone has been incredibly supportive of us two novices, offering advice, tools, time and kindness in abundance. We have been taken out on others' boats and shown the ropes (haha!). I have had cups of tea and coffee with all our liveaboard neighbours and some of the richer yachties, as they're called, too.

The difference seems to be time. Everyone has much much more of it here; they have purposely chosen this lifestyle so that they do. Most liveaboards seem to work part-time and spend as much time as they can sailing, fishing, reading, lying on deck and chatting. It makes for such a lovely chilled environment. Any problem and someone is there and willing - and has the time - to help. For instance, when our car battery died, a neighbour charged it up on his boat all day, removing and replacing it for the completely hapless me. Last night, when one of the elderly residents felt ill, an ambulance was called and he was taken up to meet it by what he called 'my own harem of women'! Recently, a cat went missing and everyone was looking for it and talking about it. When it was found, the owner popped over to tell us. It feels so good to be a part of a community that genuinely cares. What's interesting is the range of different people here: there are the 'yachties' who come down at weekends and the liveaboards who, obviously, are here all the time. Ours feels like the best pontoon to be on (well, I would say that!) as everyone gets on regardless of age, wealth or life choices.

So, despite R splitting his head open on the low beams in the living area last week, we're really enjoying ourselves aboard and I feel that I am finally getting used to it and loving our new life. There were definitely days in the first month when I thought 'ah sod this, I want to go back to space and greenery and running water etc etc' but this week I feel really chipper about being a liveaboard.

Visitors

There's something about visitors to the boat that reveals so very much. Who our real friends are, as in the people who really 'get' us, and how our own insecurities are only a niggle or a scratch away. It's made me curious about how our own security or happiness can be rocked by the opinions of others. This is very mood-dependant, of course, but there are ups and downs to our new life.

My mum and dad, bless them, loved the boat when they visited. Any concerns they harboured from the initial conversations (my dad did express a few at the time!) were masterfully hidden and they got stuck in with gusto, bringing champagne and nibbles, showering our little home with enthusiastic praise. R's mum was also vocal, but her fear of anything that does not fit the status quo came raining down on our little place like hailstones.

One friend stepped on board and spent ten minutes saying 'oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,' and not in a delighted way, in a what-the-fuck-have-you-done way. But later she sent me a heartfelt email about how we had followed our hearts. Another friend was so excited he didn't know what do with himself... Two of our dearest friends sent us a message saying 'what a beautiful and typically you-two-ful thing to do - we're so proud of you.'

Two friends came down from London yesterday and they were both quiet as if they were afraid to open their mouths in case of what they might say. The boat is small, our living space is minimal. There are plenty of opportunities to hit your head VERY hard and, if you're in a hurry, scalp yourself (I did this a few times in the early weeks). And yet, it is cosy and filled with love. Yes, we sleep with our heads side by side on the pillow, yes, we bump into each other a bit. But we have always loved being near each other. We love hanging out together.

After our friends had gone, we both felt our convictions rocked a little. Though we're both certain we've never wanted a stressy, sweaty, angry, cramped London life, our choice to leave an expanse of lush greenery and a country cottage for a boat sometimes still makes us question ourselves. It feels so good when someone visits and looks us in the eyes and says 'I think it's amazing' or 'I love the way you two always do something completely different'. Sometimes friends speak to your soul, they connect with you in a way that honours both your similarities and your differences. Though they might not choose the life you have chosen, they see the beauty in your choices. They respect and love you for who you are. Like all the big challenges and changes in life, it is special to discover who is really listening to you, who really loves you for WHO YOU ARE. I feel so blessed to have my friends that I can share this adventure with.

My brother is coming down this afternoon (shame about the weather!) to visit the boat for the first time. I am lucky enough to call both my siblings my best friends; they support, love and listen to me and I am soooo excited to show my bro the boat! I know he will 'get' it and us.

It has felt like we're on holiday with this gorgeous weather - cycling along the seafront together, watching the tide come in and the seabirds circling, having fish and chips on the beach as the sun goes down....magical.