Home is where the owls are.

Summer was in her infancy when we started this build and now, as evening falls, the skies fill with skuas following the river north and thus mark her passing. There's a nip in the air and autumnal storms are due. We'll watch these storms from the comfort of our new home now we are in, cat and all. The boat isn't as yet finished and as those around us light their stoves to keep out the evening chill I look on in envy. But soon, very soon, I've been promised a fire of my own to keep us warm. Until then it's woollen jumpers and cosy blankets. 

The last time I posted we had just finished the bulkheads and stuffed them full of stories that will one day break free of their confines (hopefully not whilst we're still here). And now? Well, everyone has been busy...

Our bath is fully operational. We still need to add the side panels, and the bathroom still needs a basin and toilet to be installed. We are currently using facilities brought in from the camper van. 

I'm also now the proud owner of an airing cupboard. It all feels rather grown up... But now I have somewhere to dry herbs. 

Our fire awaits completion. Chimney is on order. This time around we've opted for a back boiler and so all through winter this stove should provide us with hot water and hot radiators. 

A wardrobe! Twice the size of our one on The Green Man, the thought of all that storage is overwhelming! 

Floors have been laid. Oak for the lounge, kitchen and bedroom.

White pine in the study/music room. 

And stone tiles in the bathroom. 

Lolly helped lay most of the flooring... 

And here we are, in possession of our very own sofa, in a home we can't quite believe is ours. 

I will post a full photographic tour of the boat when we are fully settled in and nearly finished. The study at the moment is called The Shed and is non-operational as a living space. Our degrees start again next month and it would be nice to have a desk in there by then. 

But for now, wherever my owls are is home. 

The stories in the walls.

Building this boat is not just about the end result. It is the story of how we got here and how it changed us along the way. And who will want to know, in years to come, where this boat came from and who dreamed it into existence? This boat is a part of us and hidden in the walls is our story and that of its birth. There are gems and notes and tidbits about who we are and the summer spent toiling away. It tells of family and love and hope of a new life in a bigger boat for the mad woman, Morris man and fat cat-who-thinks-she's-human. And it shows the people who we love who have brought us this far and who will be the ones to carry us over the finish line for without them this big boat of ours would still be an imagining.

Family together on a hot, hot summer evening. The Green Man on the right. From one home to another.

But there are other secrets too, hidden in these walls of ours. Some have a practical element and some are just for fun - because we know they are there and that someday they will once again come to light.

This is not a wardrobe...

Old favourites, threadbare and torn, reveal that I wear a lot of green and gray. Old clothes sealed behind the walls act as insulation to stop sounds traveling the length and breadth of the boat. Strange it may seem, but we have a music room on board and music enjoyment is often dulled when one person is trying to sleep whilst the other is taken by musical inspiration.

It is these little things, these snippets unseen in the daily run of our lives, that is the time capsule of our build. And in these we honour those that brought us here. For it is their story too.

The pace quickens.

The build has been storming along but with family help progress is even greater than I could've imagined. The boat is beginning to look less like a steel shell and more like a home. 

Mum and dad L helped me sand the kitchen and living room walls before attacking it skilfully with varnish. 

Dad C and Rob have fixed the most-awkward-sink-known-to-mankind into one of the kitchen worktops and in front of one of the windows so I'll have a lovely view when washing up. I get washing up duties because Rob is the chef. And a very good one he is too.

Beer and bricks. Sorted. 

They've also been working on building walls and hanging the first of our three doors. A home with doors? Imagine that.

And not only that, we're very close to having a space that can officially be called a room. 

Walls! Internal bulkheads take shape. 

We've even had chance to try out our new sofa. 

The boat might look like a building site but it's currently a damn comfy one. 

Of tubs and, maybe one day, suds.

We're adding a bath in this new boat build home of ours. It's been nearly a decade since we last had one to call our own and the near giddiness of longing we reached upon realising we could once again incorporate one into our home was nearly overwhelming. It might sound extreme, and we're grateful for having any means whatsoever to scrub clean our pikey selves, but a bath? Somewhere to lay and read and ease those aching joints? How could we refuse?

And so today, with hose from the water point outside, we tested the waters to see how she lies. 

and those waters were sun-hose warm and sparkling bright. And the tub leaked a little. But we stood in it and marvelled at it before seeking out the means to make it fully watertight. Soon, very soon, our bathroom will have walls and perhaps, one day, we won't need the hose to fill our little tub.

Salad gardener.

I have been inspired of late by Zhoen's beautiful garden as she transforms and develops it and so have returned, once again, to gardening on a small scale. There's not enough room on the back deck of The Green Man for much in the way of plants but as long as it's edible it's allowed onboard. I'll have much more room on The Gabble Ratchet but for now I am content to see little pockets of life spring up around me.

My pot of trusty rosemary, that has seen many stunted seasons pass, has been joined by a basket of thyme, mint and oregano with nasturtium seeds scattered between

A tin of wild strawberries waiting for the sun to blush the fruit, leaves dance in the cool summer breeze.

Sentinels of celeriac, young and still to form ball roots.

Tomato for Rob, though it's frail after a cat attack.

Rocket behind, peeking through the soil, and spinach already eager to grow five days after the seed was planted.

Coriander, another solely for Rob, a favourite in his curries.

Basil, chives and parsley.

There's something so calming and fulfilling about having plants around me again. I never realised how much I missed tending them.

Sofa so good (did you see what I did there?).

The build is coming along. We've only had part of the bulkheads constructed so far because the sofa we ordered is too wide to fit through any of the internal doors. In fact, it will only fit through one external door and that is at the opposite end of the boat to where we want the sofa. So, for the last few weeks whilst we've been awaiting delivery of said sofa that has to be moved through walls to get to its desired location the walls have looked like this:

With cat. She oversees the build and judges the build quality of her soon-to-be home. And then she guards *cough*sleeps*cough* on our building materials.

She will soon have somewhere more cosy to sit as the sofa has finally arrived. 

There's nowhere to store it out of the way so for the moment it stands on end in the kitchen. Soon the rest of the walls will be built and the only way that sofa is leaving the boat is in tiny pieces! The cat will have to continue to sleep where she is for now, though.

In the meantime, kitchen work has progressed. We now have work tops:

And the cupboards and drawers have fronts and handles (still need to affix the doors over the inbuilt appliances):

But it's all beginning to take shape. 

Rob has been working on the plumbing for the bathroom and the bath/shower pump is ready to go and awaiting a hole to be drilled into the side of the boat.

That doesn't look like work to me... 

Meanwhile, Mum C and I have been working on making the back deck non-slip. 

Mum painted whilst I sieved on sand and then I later added another coat of paint. Some areas are a bit patchy and need redoing but rain stopped play.

The next big job is to varnish the interior walls and I've roped in Mum L to help with that. Oh, the joy that awaits her... 

And so the work begins.

We brought in the heavies to kick start the work needed to get The Gabble Ratchet habitable. Dad C constructed bulkheads and Rob's brother, Steven, and nephew, Finn, made quick work of the kitchen cabinets. Mum C and I carried most of the contents of the lock up (remember that lock up?) onto the boat, although we did have some assistance, and Rob concentrated on electrics.

Rob and Steven may have got a little distracted when fitting our new bilge pump and now we have a wine cellar.

What's with the strategically placed finger? 

Ah. Might need to add wood filler to the shopping list. 

Going well, the build is going well...

She sinks!

So, apparently it's customary to check that your weed hatch is firmly attached before setting off on your journey. We don't normally check ours on The Green Man primarily because you need a jack hammer to release it. It's not coming loose in a hurry.

Imagine Rob's surprise to notice, after wondering why the bilge pump had gone into overdrive on The Gabble Ratchet's maiden voyage, that the engine was sitting in a vast amounts of water and that it was coming in quicker than it was being pumped out.  He didn't know the weed hatch wasn't secured at this point. All he knew was that he was in the middle of the Thames with his parents on a boat that was in the process of sinking. The engine still worked, miraculously, and so he planned to head for the shallows to make salvage attempts easier. 

It was at this point that he noticed the weed hatch and tightened its fastenings. No more water came in, but the engine bay was bursting with water. Cue an emergency phone call to me with the opening sentence of "fancy a rescue mission? I need pans."

Cue my emergency phone call to my mum with the opening sentence of "sinking... Pans..." Okay, not a well constructed sentence, but it did the job.

My mum arrived with pans and we went in search of the stricken crew (I'm not entirely sure how stricken they were since the boat was moving under its own power and there was a supply of alcohol onboard for the crew if needed). 

Obviously, it was a very serious matter and I didn't arse about taking photos of my mum with a pan on her head before we turned up for bailing duty.

Thankfully, all eventually became well and boat and crew made it safely to our home mooring where we officially named the boat, praised its float-ability and gave up a toast to Martin for installing an automatic bilge pump when he commissioned the engine.

She floats!

On the 11th June we met our new boat, chaperoned by Martin, at Oxford Cruisers where nine years ago the Malpus boys craned The Green Man into the water (this sentence might be a little link heavy). It brought back a lot of memories... For Rob. I think I was so traumatised by the experience the first time round that I blocked it out. All I remember of that day is the boat being on a lorry, but I'm sure that's a stolen memory from a photograph of the event. Anyway, back to the present...).

Rob had been to the yards to see the boat during construction, but I hadn't. This was my first view of our new home-to-be.

LOOK! I SEE MY BOAT! That blue bit is my boat, yes?

It wasn't until I was up close that I actually realised how huge the boat actually is. I fear it my have taken trees out on its journey down here. And whole buildings. It's massive. 

See, even the crane looks small.

It really didn't take long for the driver to back the lorry into position and the crew to get the crane ready to winch her.

Nearly time to hold your breath.

She flies! *holds breath*

There's nowt like your home-to-be balanced delicately on some straps in mid air to get the adrenalin pumping.

And then, with the clanking of chains and people steadying the ropes, she was lowered, ever so carefully, into the water. She finally met the Thames. And she floated.

Floating is a good sign. We're all unanimous on that.

And, just so you get the idea of how big she is, I took a photograph of her beside a normal sized boat.

She ate all the pies. That's my girl.