Monday 18 February 2008

Licence arrives

The licence arrived today in an oddly long shaped envelope. Opening it produced the identification number plates with 516513 written on them and two tax discs. Lisa and Terri (up from the big smoke for a funeral) decided that it was a lucky number. I reluctantly agreed whilst rolling my eyes. I had applied and paid for the licence on the 21st January so four weeks seems a reasonable amount of time for the thing to arrive.

Am I the only boater (for that is what I am) who doesn't care if other boaters have a licence or not. It seems to be an obsession with many boaters that there are some others who don't have them. My thinking on this is that it has absolutely nothing to do with me. If you think that, all of a sudden, if all boaters unexpectedly bought one that your licence fee would go down is cloud cuckoo land. We are all turning into the French. A country where everybody grasses up everyone else on any matter, however petty and where their whole culture is build on collaboration of one sort or another. Well if you want to be French get collaborating and get on that licence evasion hotline whose number (bizarrely) is printed on the back of your licence holder (01923 201122 for those who only speak French). Anyway haven't had a rant for a while and that buttered my biscuit.

This house clearing thing is really taking up my time. After several rubbish runs to the local recycling centre I went down to the boat to check the first coat of blacking in the water tank and found that it was still tacky. I decided to give it another 24 hours for completion. That was a dreadful job. The first coat involved me climbing into the depths of a tank barely larger that me in the foetal position through a hatch one foot square so as I could reach all the nooks and crannys. It only took an hour but I have spend better hours. In fact I have spend better hours in mud filled ditches in the pouring rain being shot at just outside Crossmaglen in South Armagh or in a snow hole in northern Norway at minus 43°. It all seems more fun in retrospect.

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