The final journey of NB Friendship

Early this morning - at first light, my ex started on NB Friendship's journey to Whilton Marina, where she will be sold.  My ex has lived on her since we split in October 2014 and has decided that he does not want to buy her, hence she is being sold and the proceeds divided.

While he is taking her on her journey, I'm at work - conscious that he has a difficult journey in quite cold English weather.  I'm joining him on Friday to take him through the Hatton flight of locks - but he will be taking the boat on the rest of her trip. She is empty now, aside from fuel and firewood for the journey.  All our personal possessions have been removed.

I recently signed up for Facebook's "reminder" service - where the app shows you what you posted as status updates years ago.  On November 20, 2009, I posted "I'm now the proud owner of a Narrowboat".  It's a little hard to imagine that at some point in the future I won't be.  The boat was my home for almost 5 years - and being a boater was a huge part of my identity.  Living on land in a flat somehow seems - well - quite ordinary.

I've said a lot of goodbyes and closed a lot of doors this year.  This feels like that last big door to shut before my divorce is finalised and the next chapter begins.  It's still not easy - but it is getting easier.

Going to bits over bits and pieces

One big bit - my home.  It hasn't been my home in over a year, but when you spend 5 years living in a place - or rather on a place - it becomes a big part of who you are - or were.

NB Friendship is going up for sale.  Almost 6 years to the day when we first bought her, she will be at Whilton Marina where, hopefully, she will be bought by someone who, like my ex and I, is looking for a new way of life.

The boat was good to us.  She was cold, she was cramped at times - but she took us up and down the UK, to corners of the country we'd not have seen otherwise.  If you've never seen the hills of Flecknoe - if you've not moored under a 200 year old wrought iron bridge - if you've not seen the detail and intricacy of the stonework on the aquaducts and tunnels that carry the canal through this UK - you won't know what I mean.  If you have, you will.

It's hard not to feel sentimental about it.  It's hard not to feel like something special is going - and I'm not able to stop it - nor should I - but it hurts a little bit.

Hurry up and wait

First week at work done and dusted - and only a few hours until the next working week begins.  

It's been a busy week - and yet it seemed to drag by.  Now that I've made the decision to return to Canada at some point, I want my Divorce, the sale of the boat, and all the other bits and pieces that need sorting to be - well - sorted!  These things take time, though.  Too much time.

Someone is coming to look at the boat on Wednesday to potentially buy it for cash.  I really have no idea what sort of an offer we'll get for it - but it's a starting point at least.  

As for the Divorce - that's complex.  Complex because I was married in Nova Scotia.  Complex because although same sex couples can marry in the UK, divorcing in the UK for a same sex couple is not as straightforward as it is for - well - straights.  

One thing at a time, I guess.  Get through another working week, and get through the boat valuation visit.  

How many days until Christmas?

Still here - and still here

I really shouldn't read my old Blog posts - but that said, if it's confusing for me, it must be confusing as hell for anyone else reading it!

So, after some thought, I decided that I would start a new blog.  Or not.  Or maybe just forget this whole blogging malarky.  Or, as it turns out, not.

After further thought (I'm good at thinking) I decided - the point of a blog, perhaps, is to create a bit of a record of what's happened and what is happening.  If, every time my life took a twist, I decided to create a new blog I'd have dozens of blogs.  So, this blog will stumble on - if only as a way for me to record what I'm up to - you folks read if you want to - or don't.

I enjoyed finding this blog was still online when I rediscovered it a few months back.  It was a bit painful to read, but it reminded me where I'd come from, where I'd been, and helped me to reflect on where I'm going.  Not bad for a little corner of the interweb!  I'm glad I took the time, then, to record what I was doing and hope that in continuing to take the time now to keep a record - albeit haphazard - that one day down the line I'll look back at what I'm writing - well - today!

Put away your hankerchiefs.  I'm staying.

Another new start

Thankfully this one doesn't involve having to move, change jobs, or find a deposit of any kind.

I can't work out how to archive my posts in this blog.  I don't really want to continue using the blog in this format as it's - well - it's just not me anymore - but I don't want to lose the posts and the memories either.  So, I'm just going to stop updating it.

I might start another blog - in fact, I think I will - a blog about my journey back to Canada - but the "novascotianboy" is now a 38 year old man.  I don't live on a boat - I live in a bedroom in someone else's house.

So.

That's it.

Past Pity

Generally, I tend to be a pessimist - a 'glass half empty' type of person.  I'm not sure why - but for as long as I can remember, I've always found it easier to notice what I don't have rather than what I do, or what I can't do rather than what I can.  I'm having this challenged lately, as friends support me to look at what is possible in my life and encourage me to try new things, explore, and 'get out there'.  

There have been too many 'new things' over the past 10 months to count!  A new home, a new job, and new relationship status to mention the big changes - but along with each of those big changes have come dozens of smaller changes.  Despite having survived the past year (and that was an accomplishment in itself) I've actually managed to - dare I say - thrive a tiny little bit.    

It's easy, though, to think of all the things I've lost - a partner who I could share every intimate detail of my life with - a home which I'd had for 5 years and had really made my own - and a lifestyle which I've enjoyed.  Walking past a canal is bittersweet when I remember all the happy times I've had on my boat and happier times in my marriage.  

It's not easy to keep reminding myself that I'm going forward - not backward - and that new things are on the horizon - new things that I don't need to fear.  I have to work hard to remind myself that 16 years ago I arrived in the UK with one suitcase and no idea what the hell I was doing.  I have been brave.  I can be brave.  I have accomplished  fair bit in my life.  I can accomplish more.  

The worst thing about self pity - for me at least - is that it colours and poisons every aspect of my life - not just the things I'm unhappy about - but also the things I'm happy about.  It really is a poison - that contaminates and kills.  I may never become a 'glass half full' person - but I've got to become a person who looks at what I have rather than what I haven't, and what I might be able to gain instead of what I've lost.  

Something new somewhere old?

Shropshire Hills

I'm finding it hard to identify what exactly it is that's holding me here in the UK.  I know that I've loved (and hated - but more often loved) living here for a variety of reasons.  Back in Canada, if something is 100 years old it gets a plaque slapped on it and becomes a 'heritage' building.  Here in the UK, it's all relative - 100 years is old, but 100 year old buildings are pretty common.  I love history - and being surrounded by it all the time can be pretty awe inspiring.  This is also a beautiful country - despite the best efforts of the English to ruin it!  If you ever get a chance, Bill Bryson describes England beautifully in his 'Notes from a Small Island'.  There are some dramatic landscapes, sure, but most the landscapes I've come to love here are the gentle landscapes - rolling hills, quiet lanes, small cottages, perfectly formed fields.

What this country doesn't have, though, is my family - and I do miss them.  It also doesn't have my husband - well, it does, but he's not my husband anymore - so I often find myself wondering why I don't just up sticks and go home.

And yet I don't.  Yet.