Thank you for reading my story, I hope that you enjoy it. Love Mica xx, Yorkshire England. All email comments good or bad welcomed. I will try and reply to each and every one but please note that all email comments from an invalid email address will be deleted immediately and will not be read. Please note that I write in British English.
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Life on the Leeds to Liverpool canal could not be described as onerous. I had a mooring near Apperley Bridge, I could readily catch a bus into Leeds if I needed to, but most of what I needed could be sourced locally. My marriage to Jack had ended some years ago when he discovered the delights of a girl much younger than me, and that is fine as I have since discovered, he was not the finest of lovers. Our son Jonathan, now in his twenties, stayed with his dad, as he was doing college and university, and stability was pretty important. We texted and he would come over for lunch, that sort of thing, he just lived with his dad.
I took my settlement money and bought a wide beam canal boat and a mooring and removed myself from my old life, much of which had revolved around Jack. At the time I was pretty angry, and Jonathan didn't need an angry mum around. His dad's new girlfriend didn't last long after I left, I had smiled to myself when I heard, wondering if she realised how much harm and upset she had caused simply by fucking my husband; I doubted it. I always thought her vacuous.
My boat is called Yorkshire Pudding and has a wonderful open rear deck with a perch stool for when I am steering, there are solar panels on the roof and all the associated batteries and inverters are just inside as you go down the steps, so I have both regular mains voltage available and twelve volts. There is a mains hookup at my mooring too. Inside I have a galley with all the usual conveniences, a gas hob, oxford sink, dishwasher, washing machine cum dryer, then the living room with a sofa, tv, sound system and a log burner, a double bedroom, a shower and loo room and then a further single bed in the bow.
I don't tend to cruise much, especially not in the winter. I do a bit in the summer, there is a stretch of canal that just follows the contours of the land, so no locks, just a lot of swing bridges, and of course I have done the famous Bingley locks, the three rise and the five rise. They are very noisy and exceedingly claustrophobic. What can I say, it's where I live. I have a regular mail address, I can get parcels delivered, it is mine, I own it, and if push came to shove, I could move it, perhaps to Liverpool one day, but why would I?
The next but one boat along is also a wide beam, and that is lived in by a woman called Caprice, she used to do a bit of modelling, but as with all of us, things go south, and now she just lives with her cat on the boat. I think she does some writing, although as I am not great reader, I have not explored that with her. Reading is so personal, we don't all like the same thing, like TV programmes, I guess. One thing she does do a lot of is baking. She usually has a freshly baked cake, or scones and sometimes cookies.
"Cooee," came from the stern, it sounded like Caprice. I wandered up and poked my head out of the doorway.
"Hello Jo," she called, "Lemon cake, help me eat it."
I am Josephine, usually known as Jo, and now you know pretty much all there is to know.
"Five minutes and I'll be there, get the coffee on," I replied and went in to make myself presentable before I jumped ship and headed down to her boat, "Dun Moddelin", which was very similar in layout to mine just differently dressed. I am a lover of dresses, simple strappy dresses on warm days, and thicker, longer sleeved dresses on cooler days. When it is really cold I hardly venture out. Whilst it can be warm and snug by the log burner, once you go out of the cabins and by the water, it can get bitterly cold.
Plimsoles on, I found them best for walking around damp walkways, I locked the boat and headed up to Caprice.
"Hiya," I called as I boarded and headed down her steps, through the galley and into the saloon as she liked to call her sitting area.
"Hiya babe," she replied, she never seemed to lose that fake transcontinental accent that she adopted whilst she was modelling, "come and grab some lemon cake, I added some limoncello to the batter and I think it really improves things."
Caprice had put on a few pounds since her modelling days, no doubt aided by per almost constant baking, but she was still quite slim, no more than a size twelve I reckoned, about the same as me. The boat was warm, no doubt the ovens had been on, and I sat in one of her two recliner chairs. This is where we differed, she had separate chairs, I had a sofa. I love to curl up on the sofa, not so easy on a reclining and rotating single chair. Caprice was wearing a mid-length skirt and skinny rib jumper up top, I preferred dresses to skirts, but either were preferable to trousers in my view.
Caprice handed me a plate with some lemon cake on whilst she attended to her espresso coffee machine, a rather luxurious Gaggia, mine was a somewhat cheaper Sage machine. I was of the opinion that they both made excellent coffee, and so I was in no way envious of her expensive device. We both had our coffee the same, with just a little frothed milk, and both machines were excellent in that regard. After some hissing and steaming Caprice passed me my coffee and eventually sat down with me.
I took a bite of the cake, yes excellent, and a little catch at the back of the throat, probably from the limoncello. Fair play, Caprice was an excellent baker, she never disappointed. It may be that she was not daft and only baked what she knew, and only showed what went well.
"How are things, heard from your son?" She asked me as we munched lemon drizzle.
"He is fine, he is coming to stay for a few days, that'll be interesting. I haven't seen that much of him since the divorce, just flying visits, this will be a good chance to catch up."
"I may bake him a cake especially, you can send him round to sample it in person."
"You are incorrigible Caprice, utterly naughty."
She laughed. As far as I knew she had no family, she never mentioned any, and I also never saw her with visitors. I had no idea what her preferences were, her comments about Jonathan were the closest to sexual banter I think I had ever heard from her.
"Well Jo, precious little bait her in the Marina, none that bite anyway."
Oh, I wondered what she meant by that, I hadn't ever noticed her flirt with anyone.
"Apart from my cakes," she added. I wondered if her baking of cakes was her way of flirting? I had never thought about it. Perhaps because I had never been with, nor imagined going with, a woman. Perhaps I should take more notice of her words.
Back in Yorkshire Pudding I tidied around and aired the bedding in the smaller front bedroom that Jonathan would use. He was due towards the end of today, he wasn't sure of the time he had said, it would depend on when his dad could drop him off. I didn't expect Jack would say hello, I thought, knowing Jack of old, that he would be just a little too embarrassed as yet. I was no longer angry, just a little sad that our marriage had fallen at a hurdle only half way through the race.
I couldn't entertain taking him back, no, that boat had metaphorically sailed, and he wasn't even an accomplished lover, no he was now just a sad middle aged man that made the stupid mistake that so many did. Could I forgive him? No, absolutely not, he dipped his wick in forbidden waters, there was no going back for us as far as I was concerned.
I had moved on, I had a few sexual trysts since the divorce, none until it was finalised, I had some standards, and none of those trysts had been anything other than physical pleasure or release. I had learned it doesn't matter how big a guys dick is if he can't use it properly. I like to be pleasured, not just fucked, that's what Jack did.
There was a scuffling and a commotion of noise followed by a shout out.
"Hi Mum, are you in or are you off galivanting?" It was Jonathan.
"Come on in J," I called up the companionway.
