The water has
been coming up gradually as it seems to rain every night. First it’s coming up near
the walkway, then it’s over the saggy bit in the middle of the walkway, then
covering the walkway. AB brings a milk-crate
and I can put my wellies on, climb out onto the milk-crate then onto the
flooded walkway slosh through the water and reach dry(ish) land. I come home after midnight on Saturday concerned
that I may not be able to get back on board but the river hasn’t risen any
further and I can slosh and climb my way back onboard. It doesn’t rain during the night but somebody
pulls the plug in Northampton and the river rises another couple of feet. On Sunday morning the milk-crate has been
washed away, AB is upset because evidently it was a very useful milk-crate. My
herbs have been submerged and I can’t get off the boat.
The rescue party arrives at midday carrying a planky thing covered in chicken wire with rails attached and with a great deal of skill and ingenuity (more commonly known as trial and error) aided only by coffee and beer and words of encouragement from the boat and by utilising a bit of child labour for the nasty cold bit of securing bolts under water they cobble together an escape route. Now I can get off at the back, walk along the gunwale, lower myself onto two concrete blocks which have been piled on the rear platform, slosh through water, step onto the contraption of rails and ladders and chicken wire and concrete slabs and then once again I am on dry(ish) land
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