Bradwell and back

I've sailed pretty much no where at all this year. It's been a write off.
Nothing doing.
But then, as I'm recovering from illness, having been struck down for two days my local sailing instructor took pity on me and said we should get out and enjoy some sunshine.
SO we did.
Up to Bradwell Marina and back
we shook the sails out and enjoyed the sun and the happy breeze that blew us there and back. While we were out, we practiced heaving to, so that I can do stuff below when I'm sailing alone.

forced pontoonage

So, it was with a sad weary brow I arrived home with a sore throat late from work and decided I should probably move the boat closer to some mains power so that I can put some heating on. I feel an illness taking over me and while I'm still capable of standing up, I decided I should head for the pontoon.

The friendly local ex-fisherman hopped aboard my dinghy while I rowed out and offered to take a line for me. His wife waited on the pontoon for us, also ready to take my lines. I must have looked ill.

Fired up the Yanmar with a bit of a struggle. Since changing the diesel filter it has struggled to get started. I think there's a bit of a leak somewhere. I have no inclination to work out where or what or how at the moment.

Ten minutes later I was along side and the longer orange shore power lead that belongs to the fisherman was put to good use as mine was too short to reach the only available power socket.
Heater plugged in.
Now to bed. I'm ill.

Mines a pint of mild

Unbelievable, nay unthinkable that we would still be enjoyiing such warm weather for almost mid november.

Somehow, I'm still clinging on to my beloved mooring spot on the buoy in the river. A pontoon berth awaits me in the marina. But the only reason for that will be to plug in to the mains grid power to power my electric heater.

Life on the good ship Varekai is currently as good as it gets.
Im run ragged between the sewing work for peoples boat canopies, photography work popping up and of course my day job in the city.
To make ends meet, it's a case of having to work and then work some more.

Except MY work doesnt really feel like work. Sewing in the evenings, or as last nights job was eyeletting which involved a power drill and a hammer, its rather theraputic. I just feel like im doing something. Wriggling my fingers a bit.
Creating. Fabricating.
Just as when I spend two hours each day on the train im creating, wriggling my fingers and typing. Fabricating a novel. I do it anyway, paid for or not.

Exhaustion rarely hits me. Except for this week.

Sunday I drove to see a gig in chesterfield and then drove straight back, but as I didnt get back until 6am, it didnt leave much time for sleep.
Now ive more or less got used to 4 or 5 hours nightly, but 2 hours, thats hard. And just 5 hours in 3 days almost turned me most queer.
I wonder how much sleep a solo sailor gets daily? Since its something I plan to do, I wonder if im capable of the high level of sleep deprivation.

Catching up now, im feeling quite full of beans.

I might get a fair bit done tonight, there's a mandolin needs playing. Ive neglected it recently.