030609

Did some more work last night on the boat. I have spent some time over the last few days putting together a small demountable wall panel for the bathroom. It is intended to be a stub-wall perpendicular to the rear bulkhead - extending 18 inches out. It will assist in affording some privacy when visitors make use of our sophisticated lavatory services. If we were a sailing boat it would be referred to as 'the heads'. S not convinced at the moment. But the selling point is that it is not fixed permanently.

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I was up earlier this morning in order to get over to London Bridge by 8 to assist with a bit of team coaching. I think it went well. They were good people and very responsive - 'up for it'. Got back to the office around 15.00 and sorted through some e-mails.

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Tomorrow I'm off to Homerton to get this thing removed from my left cheek so don't anticipate being in the office at all. Tiredness and hayfever is starting to overtake me and I can't wait to get back to our lovely Lysander. Just a few more days at Springfield Marina and then - Saturday - we are off again back to Limehouse with guests on board. S has planned the day (such that it is). Its only going to take a couple of hours although taking on water and emptying the porta-pottis will add to the overall journey time.

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The weather has turned cloudy.

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21.50
There is still light in the sky and I'm listening - on and off - to Radio 4. Its a cool evening which is a welcome contrast to the heat of the last few days. The rowers and their coaches have gone and just walkers, cyclists and chair pushers make their way up and down the path on the other side of the river. The glow of tungsten lights in the homes opposite is punctuated by the cold yellow of flourescent tubes in bathrooms and kitchens. These are reflected in the gently shimmering water of the river as it makes its way down to the River via Bow Locks and Limehouse. I'm ready for a sleep now after a long day and will text S before I shut my eyes and open myself to the viscissitudes of dream. Talking of which I've been re-reading Ian Marchant's book that W gave me. It's an enjoyable read but no great work. Its conversational laddish tone tends to get a bit tedious after a while. The writing style does not sustain the length of the book methinks. It would be a better book if it were shorter and didn't constantly play to the gallery. But I applaud its thesis with respect to 'The Railway of Dreams'.

Time for bed.