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.