The dog days of summer are upon us.
The mould is trying to take over the boat as the rainy season continues. The battle is easier this year now we are away from the dock. The boat swings in tune with the wind and the currents in the river allow the side decks to air more evenly in the patches of sunlight that intersperse the torrential downpours.
Below decks the fans are kept busy moving the damp air around the boat and drying out the bed linen, cushion covers and general atmosphere that soaks up the high humidity that we endure through this month.
I have never liked August. There is a phrase: 'August is a wicked month' that I remember from my youth,I don't know where it comes from but it sticks in the back of my mind to be recycled every time this month rolls around again.
It's twenty years ago this month that my last husband was killed in a car crash, leaving me widowed with three small kids aged 3,6 and 9. They were tough days. Twenty years! The time hardly bears thinking about.
Seems like a lifetime and a fleeting moment all in the same breath. fascinating how life throws you these googlies( curved ball), and just when you are right you end up wrong and vice versa.
His death was a tragedy, a young vital and exceedingly good man cheated of a full life.He would have been 54 today. And yet from all the tragedy came great joy and opportunity. Had he not died I would not have found the glorious TBH, would not have fulfilled a lifelong desire to sail the oceans. Would never have seen the world that I am seeing now.
So I remember the good times, savour the memories, but I no longer grieve.