Moving experiences

I'm struggling a little at the moment. There's so much to do and yet so little of real note to report that I'm sometimes hesitant to write another blog post when everything seems so kind of 'samey'.

This past month has been a particularly hectic work month and I've had little time to indulge in social interaction of any kind, let alone social media. In the meantime, we're scooting up and down between Zeeland and Rotterdam attending to two boats between my online lessons (in Zeeland) and my face-to-face classes (in Rotterdam and Dordrecht). 

In Rotterdam, the council decided to replace the mooring poles in our harbour with new ones, so several of us had to move from our usual positions. Such upheavals are always inconvenient, but in a way, they also give us a change of scene which can be refreshing. Even having the light coming in from a different angle makes a difference... that's if the sun shines at all. For our part, we had to move the Vereeniging to the other side of the harbour and it was lovely to see her in a different setting.

The only downsides were firstly that the internet connection was almost non-existent and very erratic, and the second was the discovery that the stern gland was leaking, something that happens if you only start the engine and move once in a while. The solution for the first problem hasn't been solved as yet, and as for the leaky gland, Koos has tightened it and I've mopped up all the water that came through, but we'll have to see what happens next week when we move back again. There's always something with boats, especially very elderly ones.

Back in Zeeland again, it's become very cold but yesterday, Koos and I worked on the Hennie H. The cooling system is still a not-quite-resolved issue, but Koos is getting there. As for me, I cut out a section of the interior wooden panelling that was totally rotten as a consequence of a leaking window. I'm happy that I've started on that because it's given me a winter project to occupy me and take my mind of the fact we won't be going to Portugal in January as planned.

Which brings me to the sad fact that due to the current situation with COv (as I call it), the airlines aren't getting the numbers they need to fill the flights. We'd booked to leave from Rotterdam on January the 14th on a flight to Faro. Last week, Transavia wrote and informed me they'd cancelled that flight and offered me an alternative a day earlier from Amsterdam. Well, there were three problems with that: my work commitments, the extra travel time to Amsterdam and the extra night's accommodation in Portugal. And this was just the beginning, I'm sure. When Koos booked to go to Bulgaria in October, they changed his flight three times before he eventually decided it was too much, especially with the quarantine requirements. With that as history, we decided it would be best just to cancel and postpone the trip until later. Sun therapy will have to find another form this year, but hopefully we can go a bit later when the situation has settled. 

What else is there? Well, as they say, little things please little minds. At our crumbly cottage we have a new neighbour. The Polish family who moved in earlier in the year moved out again at the end of August, finally realising that five people in a one person cottage was really beyond reasonable squeezing point. The little house remained empty for a few months, but has recently been let to a single woman. All well and good and much more suited to the size of the house... at least, that's what we thought anyway.

We don't know her yet at all, so this is absolutely no reflection on her character or person but we've been totally fascinated by the amount of stuff she has moved into this tiny house. It reminds me of Mary Poppins' handbag, except it's all been going in, not coming out. Firstly, there were numerous small van loads of boxes and bags, and I mean numerous – dozens, in fact; our other neighbour has been helping her (still is) and for a time he was beginning to bear a strong resemblance to an ant as he scurried to and fro. Then followed a big van with furniture and still more small van loads; the ant was back with friends. Well, we thought it would end there, but for the past couple of weekends, more and more stuff has arrived in a seemingly endless stream and even today when she finally moved in, there were still bags and boxes being carried in. Just as a joke, Koos threatened to go and ask her when her real furniture was going to arrive.

It's hard to fathom where it's all going to go and I hope that she can fit herself in between her mountains of belongings. And how did they get everything up the stairs, which are so narrow and steep, our previous neighbour didn’t even use the bedroom? I’m still playing with that puzzle. Luckily, the new tenant is tall and slim, so she should be able to slip between the gaps easily enough, but it's given us some good entertainment value. But what is it about this tiny house that attracts people to cram it full to the gunwales? We'll have to wait and see, but for now, her move has made all of ours look modest in the extreme.

Have a good week allemaal. Here are some photos of yesterday's brief visit by the sun during our afternoon walk.

Flamingos and flowers

Well, here it is. Another two weeks since I last posted a blog. The speed at which the time seems to fly past is really quite phenomenal. Admittedly, work is taking up much of my time at the moment. I wish I could say I'd been somewhere interesting, or even cycled somewhere new. But my pedalling activities have ground to a slushy halt because of the rain and wind we've been having since last weekend. I'm not a stoic when it comes to two wheels – not anymore, although time was when I'd cycle through rain, wind and snow. Even I find that hard to believe now, but it's true. 

The only things I can really report on are somewhat random. One thing I forgot (I think) to mention last time was that one of my daughters had her birthday at the end of October. However, because it was just after increased restrictions came in and we couldn't have an indoor party, we decided to have a picnic. Just my two girls and me. It was actually great. Despite being windy and blustery, the three of us met at a harbour in Zeeland close to a spot where flamingos gather. Yes, I did say flamingos, and no, they aren't put there for show. They come to Battenoord Haven on the Grevelingenmeer every winter from October to April. Isn't that special?

There are three types of flamingos that gather near the harbour: European, Caribbean and Chilean flamingos, but so far I haven't found much about why they come from such different parts of the world to spend their winters here. The only explanation I've read is that the marine life in this enclosed 'sea' must be very much to their taste. Apparently they haven't always been there, though. Earlier they spent their winters in other Zeeland locations but it seems Battenoord on the Grevelingenmeer has been their winter home for several years now. Here's a post about them. It's in Dutch but can be translated quite effectively by Google Translate.

Photo thanks to VVV Zeeland

When we walked along the dike from the harbour, we could see the flock standing in the water, but they were quite far out so it was more like a pink blur – well, it is if you have my dodgy sight. Even so, it was quite a thrill to be able to catch sight of them. 

A lovely picnic with my girls

And it was a memorable and special way to celebrate a birthday. The food was laid on largely by my other daughter, who loves baking as the goodies on the table demonstrate. She'd also bought these very pretty tea cups and saucers from a charity shop so we could drink our thermos coffee in style. It was all really lovely, and of course the dogs came too.

Despite the wind and weathering we've been suffering with lately, it's been quite mild so my geraniums at the crumbly cottage are still in fine fettle and flowering enthusiastically. To add to their efforts at providing us with good cheer, the little chrysanthemums that we had on the roof of the Hennie H in 2017 are still going strong and have come into flower for the third year running. They give a wonderful burst of colour before everything dies off for the winter. Apologies for the fuzzy photo (a bit like my sight), but you can get a Val's eye view of what I mean below.

Geraniums and Chrysanthemums abound

Last but not least (I hope), I managed to roll a layer of green paint on the Hennie H's hull before the rain started to fall in earnest. This is about as pretty as she'll get this year, and again, distance helps. Don't look too closely, in other words, but we'll still be working on her as soon as the weather permits.

Clean and green again

I'm sure there are other things I should be adding to this post, but I think I'd best stop here and leave you with a couple of photos I snapped of the one sunny day we've had this past week or so. It gave us the chance to get out for a walk along the estuary...a wonderful opportunity to stretch our eyes.

 Have a good week allemaal. Stay well and keep taking those vitamins!

An autumn cruise

We finally did it! We had our first faring of the year in the Hennie H. Admittedly, it was only the four kilometres from our mooring to the shipyard at Zelzate last Sunday for a lift out, but it's the furthest we've been on our little barge since October 2018, so we're pretty elated about it.

The purpose of the lift out was to clean the two-year growth of weed and gunk off the water line and cooling system in the hopes the engine wouldn't overheat when under full power (as it did during testing). 

We have a thing called a Blokland cooler, which is a bundle of copper pipes that sits in an open cavity in the hull with a protective grid over it. If you're not interested in technical blurb, feel free to skip this bit. But for those who'd like to know, water from the engine circulates through the bundle and is cooled by the canal (or river) water, before going back into the engine, supposedly at a much lower temperature. Unfortunately, ours doesn't seem to be very effective, so we thought it might have become overgrown with weed; we'd had some fairly spectacular growth on the waterline this year which made that a distinct possibility.

Once out of the water, though, it was not nearly as weed encrusted as we'd thought, or hoped. Koos cleaned it all with a high-pressure hose as well as clearing such dirt as there was from inside the pipes. Meanwhile, I was working in Rotterdam for the first part of the week but hot-footed it back on Wednesday evening, so I could finish blacking the hull while Koos reassembled everything. My thanks to our friend, Carole Erdman Grant, for the photos below. She and her husband called in to see Koos while I was away and took these for the record. For some reason, we totally failed to take any at all while we were there.

Blacking: before (L) and After (R)

A dockside view

One of our last tasks was to pump out a large amount of water that suddenly appeared in the engine room. After eliminating all sorts of scarier possibilities (leaking stern gland, hole in engine room hull etc), we concluded it must have come from under the living space floor, which we haven't inspected in a while because it's all screwed down. 

Perhaps years of condensation and a couple of leaky windows have been accumulating beneath our feet, and we've never known it was there. Who knows? However, in the process of raising the dock, there was apparently quite a sharp and sudden tilt which could have made any water lying in the hold rush through to the stern of the boat. We still have to establish this, but it's the only explanation we could and can come up with.

By 2p.m. on Thursday, we were ready to be re-floated, but although we'd intended to return to home base that afternoon, the weather turned nasty and it took far longer to get off the dock than anticipated. 

On that note, I should say the dock was quite an adventure in itself. It isn't the type that's drained; it's actually a hollow, floating steel box which is raised and lowered by means of a pump. When it's raised, water is pumped out of the box, leaving it full of air; then to lower it, the pump is used to refill it with water. The yard has two of these docks; however, their maintenance is always somewhat in arrears, and the small dock we were on previously was apparently too leaky for us to use. This time we were on a bigger one, but it also leaked, and we could hear the air escaping as we worked. I have to confess my 'what if' antenna were on high alert as I went round the hull with my roller.

Anyway, the light was fading when we were finally floating again, so we decided not to take any chances and left our old lady in the neighbouring marina overnight. We'd done the same for two nights when we arrived and found it a lovely safe haven with good security and a very friendly reception. 

It turned out to be a good decision because early Friday morning, it was beautifully quiet on the water and we had a perfect trip back with no problems or hiccups. Much to my relief, there was no new water in the engine room, and we even made better time than on the outward run. In fact, we were back at home base in forty minutes as compared to the whole hour it took us to make the journey to Zelzate last Sunday. 

Yes, an hour for four kilometres is very slow, I agree. There were people walking on the towpath faster than we were faring, but we were so worried the engine might overheat we didn't want any problems. I have to say, though, it's amazing how long you can see the same piece of bank and the same dog walkers when you're moving at a pace that would make the local snails look speedy.

As a result, our return felt like we were racing, even though our top speed was only 8kms per hour. It was still wet and drizzly, but we were grinning like a pair of cheshire cats when we arrived home safe and sound. On reflection, though, Koos is still not too impressed with the cooling, so he'll be working on that further. For my part, I'll be ripping up some flooring to see what's lurking underneath our sofa. 

There's still plenty to do, but the prospects for faring further into France next year are finally looking optimistic. Our dreams are beginning to have the smell of reality about them, which is a wonderful thought to carry us through the winter.

Snuggled up to a pontoon in the Zelzate marina

As for the coming month, I am now back into a busy work period that will continue until Christmas. I hope all of you are keeping well and upbeat – difficult under the present circumstances, I know, but do have a good week allemaal!

Face masks and stove sagas

Once again, I've postponed writing my blog for no other reason than being busy with life. I don't know why I'm finding it hard to do my post a week as I always used to do, but other things really are getting in the way. There's also the fact I'm busy writing another book, which is consuming much of my writing time, but I've never had trouble doing the two simultaneously before. I shall have to blame the Current Situation, which deserves the capital letters because of the impact it's having on our lives.

Like most of Europe, we are experiencing a resurgence of the virus here in the Netherlands and I believe we have the dubious honour of having the highest infection rate per capita of any country on this continent. What's worse is that Rotterdam is the hardest hit city in the region right now. As a result, we are back into partial lockdown with the main feature being that we are obliged to wear face masks almost everywhere indoors (except at home), and that even means for teaching. I gave my first face masked class last Wednesday, which was interesting to say the least. I don't think I'd appreciated before how much we use facial expressions to convey and receive meaning. I'll now have to develop a whole new technique to improve my non verbal communication and practise eye reading as well!

The essential stove

The other story that's occupied my time is the saga of my stove, which was actually quite amusing. Normally, I travel to Rotterdam alone because I'm teaching. Koos has enough to do on the Hennie Ha without schlepping all the way there and back with me and prefers to stay in the south. But I'm glad he was with me this time when my oil stove, the light of my onboard winter life and that which warms my being (along with my hot water bottle and woolly slippers), refused to work. In the process of fixing it, we started big and ended up tiny, with a needle in fact. 

Convinced that the fuel pipe from the tank was blocked and that diesel bug had developed in the system over the summer, we first emptied and washed out the fuel tank (the big job). We then disconnected all the fuel lines and put the compressor to work (also a big job). 

However, all the fun started when I happened to be standing at the end of the copper pipe indoors when Koos applied the pressure outside. I was shocked to find myself in the path of a huge glob of mucky diesel as it shot out of the pipe. Luckily, most of it flew over my shoulder and splattered on the wall the other side; it just missed heading out through the window. 

Effective? Well, yes, you could say that. We both shudder to think what might have happened if I'd been standing just a little to the side, the consequences of which don't bear thinking of too much. I’m also relieved the window wasn’t open. I’d have had some explaining to do to the river police about the strange oil slick around my barge. The consequences of that don’t bear thinking of either. Anyway, the pipe was thereafter judged to be clean even if the language I uttered wasn't. But it still didn't solve the problem. 

We'd already cleaned out the carburettor, which admittedly had a lot of sludge in it, but that still didn't effect a cure. In the end, we, or rather Koos, found that there is a tiny part inside the carburettor's regulator which had a clogged-up slit in it. My eyesight is so iffy I couldn't even see it. Since I had my cataract ops ten years ago now, I haven’t been able to see anything close up or too far away, so focusing is a bit like zooming in and out until I get to the right distance.

But I digress. Koos could see the tiny slit and this, it seems, is the outlet through which the diesel seeps into the stove and enables me to light it. Because it's so thread thin, it took my finest needle to free it of the dirt, which almost had to be done with a magnifying glass. But then hey presto! All of a sudden everything came right and warmth was restored. 

After all that work, we could have solved it without risking environmental disaster from diesel spillages on deck and globular projectiles from inside, but who knew? I just hope it behaves itself when I return next Tuesday. Watch this space!

Altogether, though it was an interesting exercise and since I have quite a fascination for mechanical things, I actually enjoyed the process taking everything apart with Koos. And of course now I know how it works, I could possibly dismantle the carburettor myself, which feels like a lesson well learned, albeit with fairly limited applications in this electronic age.

The other essential

Furry boots: benefits self-explanatory

Have a great week allemaal! Keep well and out of harm’s way!

Weather to paint (or not)

And yes, the 'weather' in the title is intentional, although the 'whether' is also implied. I do enjoy a bit of word play

Anyway, after weeks of posting about my yoyo activities, the weather has indeed changed everything and decided to tell me the painting season is over. Since it can never be over as far as I'm concerned, this is mighty inconvenient. I find I'm scrabbling around trying to find parts of both boats that can safely be sanded and treated even when I know it's going to rain, and even when I don't, which happens all too frequently when the forecast is simply wrong.

On the Vereeniging, I've managed to paint all the window frames this last week – from the inside! They're quite deep, so apart from the sill part, it's been easy to sand them down, scrape any developing rusty patches and put both primer and top coat on them, so that felt good. A real one up for me over the rain. On the Hennie H, however, this is a bit tricky as there aren't any opening windows, other than in the roof. I won't explain why that wouldn't work. I have other plans for what we can do there on rainy days, but more of that later.

Windows before being scraped and sanded

Koos has now done several tests of the Hennie H's engine and a few things have shown how crucial it is to take this time and spend several hours just running the beast to see what happens. The first thing he found was that the original rubber joints for the cooling system needed replacing even though they looked good, but this only transpired after more than an hour of having the motor running in gear. All of a sudden and just when he wasn't watching, one of these joints started leaking quite badly (a typical Murphy trick, that). Luckily, I was painting in the vicinity and I saw the steam coming out of the engine bay, so we were able to stop everything without it causing any problems.

A quick search online and Koos ordered two beautiful new joints. I say beautiful because they are. New moulded rubber engine parts are objects worthy of reverence; I love them. They are now fitted and after another long test run of an hour and a half, they are still leak free. But of course other minor issues have cropped up. Warning lights that don't always come on when they should and an idling speed that's too high but quite difficult to reduce because the adjustment screw is in an awkward place. Altogether, though, it's looking and sounding very promising. I very much hope that we'll have a few rain free days so we can do a proper test and take her around the harbour.

In other news, I will be doing my first face-to-face class since March this coming Tuesday, and I'm looking forward to it very much. However, since the Netherlands is now a code red country and the numbers of people testing positive for Covid have escalated, we'll have to see how long that lasts.

On the home front, another first is that we've lit the stove. We always try and wait until 1 October, but we didn't quite make it this year by a day. Wednesday, September the 30th was lighting up day...not too bad. On that subject, I thought I'd be on top of things early this year so I ordered a load of firewood for the crumbly cottage. It comes on a huge pallet, which is neatly stacked inside a framework so you can keep the logs in it until you need them...that is if you can get the pallet onto your property. The service from the supplier was great. I ordered it on Monday and it came on Tuesday morning. 

The snag was that the transport company only had a small trolley and couldn't lift the pallet over the curb so we could put it in our passage. The driver shrugged with a kind of 'not my problem' attitude and drove off, leaving us with our stately pile standing in the road. What to do?

Well, Koos plucked up his courage and went to ask the farmer over the road if he could help us with his forklift. He struck gold there. Our very kind and friendly neighbour not only offered to move the wood but also to put it in his barn so it will keep dry. All we have to do is hop over the road and fetch it as needed. Aren't good neighbours just the best?

And just to give you something to look at, here are a few autumn snaps I took while on a bike ride before the rain came. Can we have this lovely gentle sunshine back please, Mr Weatherman? 

Have a good week allemaal!

Returning to work, but not to normal

September. How did we get to September 2020 without having been away at all except in January? It seems inconceivable for us, given that last year we went to France and Poland within the space of a month and both prior to and after that we had other trips out of the country. But that's how it is in this oddest of odd years, isn't it?

And now it's time to go back to work as well, but not in the normal way of going to the university and giving classes to students I can interact with dynamically. Alas, we are still obliged to do most of our teaching online and I'll need to dust off my Zoom screen again. It's not that I really mind the online classes; I don't and I enjoyed the challenge of making them work for me and for the students too. However, it's a bit like working without an important tool or losing a dimension. Because I tend to walk around when I teach and use my arms to demonstrate, punctuate and elucidate my points (don't you love all those 'ates?), having to sit in front of a screen and not move feels a bit like teaching with only half of me employed.

Still that's how it has to be and I'd rather be doing it this way than not at all. I just hope that next year we'll be able to return to the real normal as opposed to the new normal.

Apart from that, the BIG news is that Koos has managed to get the new (old) engine in the Hennie H connected and running and it sounds fantastic. I am so proud of him for doing the whole job single handed without any professional help at all. Of course, we'd like a professional to come and check everything for us before we go anywhere, but that won't be until next year now anyway, so hopefully we can find an expert before then. We'll be doing heaps of testing first anyway, but we are just so pleased. It's as if the little barge has come alive again.

Maybe you'll remember we bought the engine just over a year ago and had fun with super tugs lifting the old one out and this one on board. We bought a garage crane to enable us to manoeuvre it onto a trailer and had big dramas when the old engine spilt oil all over the road (see post here). I still shudder to think of the hours we spent cleaning up our own Torey Canyon disaster. Then Koos built his own crane so he could lower the new engine into position once he'd made the mountings because we couldn't use our garage crane on board (see this post here). And then, of course, Covid came along to throw spanners into the work(s) and halt progress for much of the early part of the year. What a saga it's been, but what a reward to see it burst into life and sound so sweet.

As for me, I'm still scraping and painting (yep, condition normal). The roof on the Hennie H has taken me ages to sand down and it's now had two coats of primer. I just need a few more dry days for the undercoat to settle and I can finally put a top coat on. So keep everything crossed that this spectacular Indian summer lasts until next week. Meanwhile, I'll be off to the Vereeniging tomorrow to do more of the same there. You've got to love this life, haven't you?

Enjoy the rest of your week allemaal!

To and Fro

Yes, you've guessed. We've been yo-yo'ing again although I'm having a bit of a job remembering the sequence of events now because in my mind, the Vereeniging and the Hennie H are beginning to get confused. 

Which boat's bits have I been scraping when? And where did I leave that sander/steel brush/tin of paint? Murphy always accompanies me on these trips, of course, and if he has anything to do with it, the requisite tool/material will always be on the other boat.

Still some successes can be recorded:

1. I am still just about sane (I think).

2. So is Koos (although this is always debatable – sorry Koos).

3. Koos is halfway to finishing a dashboard box for the electrics on the Hennie H.

4. I have made a new side panel to replace one of the rotten ones on the Vereeniging – three to go out of the twelve I've been making over the last two years. Mind you, by the time I've finished, the first ones will need replacing again ... remember Murphy?

5. Koos has fitted a new expansion vessel to the Vereeniging's cooling system, which is much easier to fill than the old one.

6. I've now scraped all the paint from the trim at the top of the Hennie H's build up (I don't know what else you call the part above deck that forms the living space) and applied anti-rust primer to it.

The red trim is what I've just stripped to the steel

7. I've painted all the (new) panels on the port side of the Vereeniging.

Okay, this is starboard, but these are the side panels

On the failure side, the undercoat I used on the Vereeniging's stern has proved to be pro rather than anti rust. In other words, it's completely useless and after a couple of rain showers, rust patches are showing through it already, so guess who'll be sanding all that off again and using a different brand? Grateful thanks to anyone who can give me the name of the BEST anti-rust primer available. And I mean the best.

Pro-rust primer

And another dampener is that as soon as I'd finished painting the panels, a cloud of dust blew off the quay and onto my fresh paint....insert expletives.

And lastly, while I was painting said panels, I spotted a patch of rust on the Vereeniging's waterline. Now, bearing in mind we spent two weeks out of the water in May and applied several layers of bottom coat to the water line, as well using a special primer that we were assured would be a good base for the blacking, this was a nasty shock and a disappointment. And it's not as if we use cheap coatings. This stuff is seriously expensive. Before the autumn sets in, I'm going to have to repair that, but I'd love to know why I cannot get this right. I wonder if it's because the Vereeniging is iron and not steel? Any suggestions will be most welcome.

Has there been anything else? Not that I can think of. We haven't actually seen anyone other than our always colourful neighbours in Rotterdam. One day, I'll write about them, but I think I'll have to move continents first. No, not really. They're all great, but being 'normal' isn't in their genes, which is what makes them colourful in the first place. 

But that's not for today, as right now I'm about to hit the hay. Enjoy the rest of your week allemaal. 

Heen en Weer

Well, here's another post to show that nothing much has changed in this part of the world, except perhaps the weather.

Heen en weer is, by the way,  the Dutch expression for 'to and fro' or 'there and back' or however you like to say it, so this seems apt for my current situation. I will admit that in this last week I haven't spent long in Rotterdam. In fact, I was only there for the day on Friday to finish putting primer on the Vereeniging. It was incredibly hot, so I beat a hasty retreat to cooler climes as quickly as possible. I'll brave it again this week, although I fear my reception might be a bit too much cooler this time. We've had a visit from Francis, which has changed our scene quite dramatically. Gone is the heat, and I'm now shivering in 21 degrees. It's the contrast, you see.

Anyway, that aside, what's been going on in our world? Well, we actually ventured across the border into Belgium on Sunday for a whole day, and it was just marvellous. I belong to a Facebook group called Women on Barges and I've made some lovely friends there. One of them is a fellow boater we met with her husband on the Canal de Roubaix on the border between Belgium and France three years ago. These two have subsequently become special to us and whenever they are anywhere nearby, we try and get to see them. They were on their boat in Diksmuide to the south of Bruges. Diksmuide is a gorgeous small town, so after arriving at the marina, we all walked into the centre and had lunch at one of the cafés there. We had a fabulous time and lots of laughs.

The town is surprisingly pretty because it was terribly damaged during WWI and the current centre was re-built during the twenties and thirties in its original style. Now, a hundred years on, the 'new' buildings have acquired the patina of age and look genuinely historic. It really is a charming place. I've lifted these photos from Google. One is of the town square and the other is of the monuments to WWI that thousands come to visit every year.

Photo from

https://www.flandersfields.be/en/practical-info/diksmuide

Photo from

https://www.reisroutes.be/fietsroutes/westhoek/diksmuide-fietsen-door-de-ijzervallei/

There's also a gorgeous begijnhof. The béguines were communities of women who, although religious, were not closed like convents. They lived as individuals in community houses and dedicated their lives to God without withdrawing from the world. According to the Unesco website about béguinages, they were founded in the 13th century 'to meet their (the women's) spiritual and material needs'. In Flanders, they are generally composed of a collection of houses, churches, additional buildings and green spaces, and they can be found in many parts of the country. The one in Diksmuide is particularly pretty. I would guess it's been rebuilt a few times over the centuries, but it was a delightful reminder of these medieval women's role in society.

This is one of Koos's photos of the begijnhof. His focus was actually the crane, but you can see how attractive the houses were. They were accessed through an archway, which gave a lovely impression of a separate and cloistered area. The weather really was a bit grey and rainy, so these clouds were just as threatening as they look, and it rained shortly afterwards.

We did a circuitous walk back to the marina where our friends keep their boat, and on the way, Koos took some of his inimitable photos. These are his take on what we saw. I love them.

On Monday, I managed to finish painting the potdeksel/caprail/gunwale that I've debated in my previous posts and then yesterday, I was confined to quarters because Francis decided to blow my plans to smithereens. I'm just hoping the baby pigeon that was thrown out of the tree in my little garden has survived. His mum found him and the reunion was very touching. We watched her feeding him on the roof, but we don't know what happened after that. 

Let's hope Francis breezes out of our area and that life can get back to dry, sunny and warm again! The painting must go on.

Have a good week allemaal.