I did a post some time ago about how transient the boating life is, and regular readers will know that we are no longer a part of it now. The couple mentioned in that post have now found a buyer for their boat and we have exchanged telephone numbers and emails.
We made friends with several people, couples and singles alike, and I’m glad to say that most are still talking to us although we are classed as Landlubbers now!
Coming back from weigh in last night (I was walking) I saw one of our single friends and raised my hand in greeting only for them to put their head down, even though they were crossing the road towards me.
I was surprised to feel a pinch of hurt as they seemed intent in concentrating on the path ahead, and didn’t so much as look in my direction, yet I’m pretty sure they saw me.
OK, I thought. That’s fine, especially as this particular individual didn’t think we’d tried hard enough to keep the boat when we took it up for brokerage.
Their exact words were ‘If you were true boaters, you would’ve found a way.’
Our financial business is our own, although friends know we are on a low budget.
Most understood our decision to sell, that it wasn’t made lightly following the horrendous increases in mooring and licencing fees, but a careful thought process to address current health issues and our lives in the long term.
We saw this person again today as we were pulling out of the car park. We got a look, a hard stare, and when I waved, a strained smile before they hurried away.
We speak to several people who are still on the marina, and all have said that the atmosphere has changed, that the community spirit has died. So it would appear have some friendships, but then this is to be expected with change and when people move away.
There are new faces (and dogs) here but none of the bright cheerful ‘hellos’ we experienced, though in hindsight maybe we generated the initial greetings anyway like some kind of unofficial welcoming committee.
Photo: marina after revamp ( May 2017).