Eject

My airbed seems to have auto eject. By 6am it has lost enough air that my arse has gone numb on the hard laminate floor, so I just get up instead of pressing the snooze button. I guess its one way to stop me being late to work.

Watford is within cycling distance of central London. I think Im going to give that a go next week.

My airbed leaks.

It feels strange to sleep with a ceiling so far away and such big windows.

Waking up without the smell of the fetid canal wasn’t too bad, but I miss the swans and ducks who used to come and say hello to me in a morning.

Goodbye old life

Glorious sunshine and there I was, standing at the side of Limehouse basin, a jar of fois gras in one hand and some stale bread in the other. A small laptop bag at my feet. Honey Ryder, my 57 foot narrowboat and home for the previous three years cruised away with it's slightly accident prone new owner in the direction of central london. My French boyfriend, recently made an ex, gone back to france and my dog, sent away and being looked after by my mum 180 miles north of London.

As I wandered back to my car that was stuffed to the ceiling with schtuff bound for storage, it finally dawned on me that I’m homeless and utterly alone.

After dropping the remainder of my life in at a storage unit I drove to a friends house in Watford, hoping that he might be in. His spare room has a very small space set aside for me amongst his vast amount of things. Just big enough for an airbed and a chair, this is going to be 'home' for a few weeks until I sort out my next floating home.