Ahh, the sound of fog horns in English Bay on this November morning. It looks chilly out there. There’s frost / ice on the roads and the sun is up. I can hear the faint sounds of the central heating as the radiators slowly heat up and cool down. The gulls have stopped squawking, replaced instead by the occasional call of a crow. And of course, the sound of a car’s tires spinning. I don’t have snow tires, so chances are I won’t be out there today, sliding across intersections.
There is something wonderful about looking outside from inside the flat where it is warm and I’m happy to watch or make tea or write on my laptop. I am happy to ignore the goings on out there on the road or in the shops. I won’t go shopping today. I’ll stay at home and eat whatever left-overs are left. I won’t go shopping all week and my meals will get more and more creative as I eat my way through the various foods in the cupboards and in the fridge. For today, I will admire the beauty of the cold air outide and the colours still on the trees. I will watch passers-by exhaling clouds of vapour as they walk on the street below. I will think of all the people downtown, rushing around getting their Christmas shopping done. I will happily ignore them. I will happily ignore the mid-day sunshine and the need to get some exercise. I will happily ignore the setting sun at around 4 o’clock that signals the end of the weekend and the preparation for the next week of work. And maybe at around 6 o’clock, when it is dark and the streets are emptying and people want to get home and get some dinner, I will venture out in my down jacket. I will go to the marina and open up the boat and open the hatches to get some air circulating while I plug in the heater. I’ll get the sponge and wipe down the condensation. Maybe I’ll put the kettle on and brew up a cup of tea. Perhaps I’ll plan a weekend trip in January or February to Snug cove or Gibsons – just to get out on the water again. Go to another port or harbour and plug in my heater and maybe spend a night on the boat after some fish and chips at Molly’s Reach.
And after I have finished my tea and put everything away and have sat long enough in the cabin to sufficently heat up the air for the next round of condensation, I’ll lock the boat up and walk up the dock. Maybe I’ll think about some Christmas gifts or cards that I should write as I head home, longing to sit on the sofa with my laptop, planning my next day on the water.