Yesterday morning, up early with the sun and feeling like I wanted to be busy, I set about doing some chores. I put some washing on in the hut up the towpath, emptied the dehumidifier—spilling some condensed water—, and then thought about what else I could usefully do. I’d already had two cups of tea and pieces of toast.

One thing that is sort of bothering me is if the boat it level. The first time I came to see it it was, a little but still, obviously listing to the starboard. Nice landlord josh said that was something to do with the water tank being a bit empty—it balances out the stove, sink, toilet, fire all being on the other side. When on board and standing everything seems level, but if you sit and focus on something out of the window then you’re just not sure. It was made a little worse by the rare traffic past me, there’s an event on in town and some free boat trips are part of it. I’m not sure whether to wave at the tourists as I stand partially naked at the sink. Anyway, I resolve to see If I can make sure the tank is full and level off.

The water tank is kept topped up with a hose connected to a normal standpipe type tap a little up the towpath. I’m told that you could keep it attached permanently, were it not for the possibility of people who think it’s funny to turn them on as they stumble home from the pub. I wasn’t really sure that would happen, but I did see someone do it when I was walking out after picking up the keys—not to my boat but to the tap of a curly haired James May alike who called out “Can you turn that off, please?” after us.

So I found the hose in the undergrowth and snapped it onto the fitting, then turned the tap on, not all the way but enough to make sure it was working. I then went back to the boat and pushed the mattress and some of the struts aside, opened the tank to watch the water come in.

It was slow going, so I popped back and turned the tap back on. In the time it took to have another mug of tea and swap the washing into the dryer it was pretty full. So I hopped back off, and coiled the hose up safely in the grass.

With that I was off out for the day, so I turned the dehumidifier on—unsurprisingly the air gets humid around so much moisture, you need to take steps—and hung the washing to finish off drying over the bath. Apart from it taking me ten minutes to successfully lock the door, I was feeling a proper sailor.

I had a good day out, back in Birmingham, with some old mates and was in fairly good spirits when I staggered back up the gang plank at about 10pm. Even the Boris Johnson haired, hi-vis clad, ticket inspector on the train back hadn’t really upset me. I was in need of a wee as the train pulled out and he—suspecting a jumper?—wouldn’t let me go to the bog until he had checked my ticket. I felt like asking if he wanted to come in to help me shake afterwards, such was his attentiveness.

But I struggled to sleep when I got in, there was the odd shout of young people enjoying themselves somewhere in the centre of town, there was the drink I’d taken affecting me, but after an hour or so I decided it was a constant drip which was keeping me awake. I got up, found my torch and investigated.

By the front door, and by the bed, is the lowest point of the boat. Should there be any water on board this is where you’d notice. “It won’t be canal water” says my Living on a Boat Notes. It will be one of two things:

• it could be ‘bilge’. Bilge is a great word, a very British insult for abject nonsense. And I knew it was one of the very many idioms in our language that  had somehow originated on the water. I thought it was something to do with the sanitary conditions, but it turns out to be rainwater—boats are by their nature watertight, so there’s no drainage. The boat does have a bilge pump out the back to deal with this, if it failed there could be bilge in the boat.
• it could be an internal leak, either from the water system or from rain getting in.

Days at sea: 6

Rations: Mistaken pasta salad when getting home last night. Sat heavy in the stomach as I tried to sleep and heavier in the facilities this am.

Stowed: -1 pair of sunglasses, which I ditched (hooked at eye level round a pipe in the Gents’ in the Shakespere, Temple St, Birmingham), after discovering they were scratched to hell and made me look even stupider.