It’s Winter, where ever we are.

To quote Dr. Evil from Austen Powers, “It’s freakin’ freezing Mr. Bigglesworth!” Yes, we are in the depths of winter, but as I write, these depths are 100% Irish. We have returned to Ireland for spell over Christmas as Mary’s mum is unwell, and tending to an ailing parent is not something that is easily achieved from another country.

Having lived aboard now for almost a year and a half, we have adapted to schedule that suits us very well. Our days have become organic, rising in the morning when we’ve slept enough, getting out for a walk and enjoying more leisurely meals and then going to bed when we feel ready for sleep. It’s remarkable how organised our internal clock had become. On land I would never have thought about going to bed before midnight, whereas on the boat I start to feel sleepy come 10pm. This of course leads to my feeling fresher earlier in the morning, laying a foundation for what have become very productive days.

The transition back to land, albeit for a short visit, has been more of a struggle than moving to the boat in the first place (speaking for myself). In the rush of the everyday on land, I seem to get through a fraction of the work that I usually do aboard Faoin Spéir. And so, even after finding my natural pace on the boat, I have to fight very hard against being drawn back to that place where I spend the day rushing about, getting very little done.

Meanwhile, Faoin Spéir is in the care of some wonderful friends in France, in the marginally warmer and infinitely dryer climate, awaiting our return to take us further south in the new year.