Foolishness

When I rang Debdale marina from York to book in Erin Mae for a hull-blacking, Steve said he had a slot this week, but we should wait until we were nearer and ring him again. He was obviously concerned about making a booking that was never going to be fulfilled – York's a fair distance in canal and river terms.

So I rang him again from Nottingham, and found that the earliest he could fit me in this week was Thursday. I grumbled a bit, mostly under my breath. He said, in effect, that's how the cookie crumbles. I said, in the nicest way I possibly could under the circumstances, that this was why I'd rung him earlier, so we'd get the first available slot. But there we were – I had no intention of falling out with him, and it's counter-productive to leave bad impressions. We booked in for Thursday.

And, as it turns out, this meant we had time to see our friends Gareth and Yuko in Loughborough. It meant we weren't in too much of a rush. It meant we could call in at the marina three days in advance, to let them see the seal that will need to be replaced on the prop shaft. It meant we had time to visit Market Harborough, which we might have been tempted to leave for another time. That meant we could make a much-need trip to the supermarket. And, looking at the weather forecast, it meant that we ended up with by far the best day of the week to have the work done!

Grumbling is usually a pointless exercise. Imagining you have the insight of the Almighty into how the weather patterns will work out is positively foolish.

I promise not to be foolish again. Ever. Hm…