I’m going to live on a boat. In Maine. In the Winter. With a baby and 70 pound dog.

Well not full time. On the weekends we’ll be returning the equally cold island we live on.

I’m a fairly recent (2.5 years) transplant from London, UK to Midcoast Maine. They sucked me in with the Summers for a few years. Then after making the big move to be with my now husband I noticed people shaking their heads and snickering when they’d find out I was about to endure my first Winter here. I notice him desperately making the “stop, she’ll leave if she finds out before the snow actually physically traps her” face at them and wondered what the hell I was in for.

Given that I’ve found the four-odd months of below zero temperatures (proper temperatures in Celsius although, I shit you not, it goes below zero in Fahrenheit too), I’m still in shock as to how the other half has convinced me to spend part of my life on a boat. A boat that floats on cold water in the cold wind in cold Belfast, Maine.

Add to this the increasingly mobile and quick-to-bore 1 year old and horrifically energetic, stubborn and ignorant 70 pound Pyrenees mix we have and I wouldn’t be insulted if people were to question whether or not I’m just plain batshit crazy.

And just for shits and giggles, incredible at some things that he is – house building, anything creative, cooking, buying things- my husband likes to break stuff (including himself) on a regular basis, digging big holes, chainsaw anything that looks vaguely tree-like and sometimes has the common sense of a dead flea. Think of him as a highly domesticated and cultured Fred Flintstone.

I’m thinking it will be nice to pop out for a coffee, supermarket or to meet friends without an hour of frigging about catching ferries. I’m thinking it will be nice for my baby to see his Dad more than an hour a day. I’m thinking it will be nice to have time for a shower more than once a week. Most of all I’m thinking, I hope this won’t result in hypothermia, divorce or be one woman’s story of the rapid loss of her mental health and marbles.

So. The boat (it’s a 58ft, wooden, Matthews motor yacht for anyone that has a clue) is now docked in her final resting place in Belfast having brought her up from Boston and after a few minor details like steps so I can get on the damn thing and heat, is awaiting our arrival…….



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