Holy shit

Day 9: 2 clementines, bread with nutella; egg & bacon Pret bap; leftover pasta with broccoli and parmigiano; 1 beef burger, half a fennel, slice of sourdough & rye bread; red wine.

Found myself saying that quite a lot over the past week or so. It’s only been ten days since I’m living on the boat, and yet it feels like I’ve been here for much longer, my life in the warm flat where I’ve lived for three years now oddly foreign. I’ve waited with anxiety the day (today) when I’d have to move the vessel and now that I have done it (with the invaluable help of a friend and without drama), I can’t believe it’s done. ‘Do what you fear and fear disappears’, says a little piece of paper on my friend’s fridge. My neighbour boater also told me something along those lines yesterday. So many times I’ve looked back and thought: holy shit, I’ve done that! That’s probably not a very good sign, because it means that I’m constantly surprised by the fact that I CAN do many things I thought I couldn’t. If I was a man I wouldn’t be so surprised, probably. But I’m not going to go there now. It’s been a nice day.

On another note: this boat is very, very holy. I have a shiny metal Jesus lying down just by the front entrance. A postcard of a radiant Sun-Jesus hanging by the other side of the same entrance. And a rosary with a small Jesus on the cross hanging from the window by the bed. I have not put them there, in spite of my Catholic upbringing. And even if I don’t think I believe in God anymore, I’m somehow glad they are here.

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