The hills of Holland

“Look at those black lambs on that hillside,” said Anna as we were driving from our hotel to the boat today.

“I think you are making a mountain out of a mole hill,” says I, as we pass by a stop bank, or perhaps a Dyke, but whatever it is, it is the only raised piece of land visible in this 360 degree horizon of flat landscape. 

The sky is huge and we can see the paintings of the dutch masters in it. 

The clouds are always changing and the light is theatrical. It’s as if God is doing the lighting and he’s having fun with it. (As if?) (And He?) 

Anyway, Anna realised the absurdity of her observation almost immediately. 

“There are no hills in Holland,” she said.

Dead right. The place is as flat as........ well flat! 

There is no other word to describe it.

If you were an ant in the middle of a bowling green, you would think you had been teleported to Holland.

Today was all work, no play. 

That is bottom grinding, not quite as romantic as it sounds!

Is this a holiday?

No.

Not today.

This is what you do when you have an old boat out on the hard, anywhere in the world.

You just have to get on with it.

There are no easy options.

A few more days of hard grinding should see us nearing the end.

Anna just wants to be painting water colour landscapes, but for now, she is painting the bottom of the boat and the toilet room. 

That paintbrush is what they all use over here.
It resembles a shaving brush.
Weird?     Yes.

Not quite what she had in mind.

Here are a few more images of the mess that is our boat.

Chief fire officer, Poppa with bucket of water and extinguisher in hand during welding.
The boat was filling up with smoke and had pretty little fires burning in the bilges.

Anna with the flu, resting between jobs.
Note the very attractive blanket!

De-construction before re-construction.
This is what the inside of boats look like while you are working on them.

One of our neighbours, a Coot. A very cute coot.
Made it's nest on the boarding platform of a flash launch.