We have been living on Roaring Girl for four years. The picture shows a furious Tigger in the aft cabin, the only comfortable place on board, on 30 June 2003. Note the black plastic on the transom port, one of several still to be replaced at the point. We didn't get them all done till 23 December, missing one of the hottest British summers in years.

To celebrate, we drank champagne (donated by Fiona and Mel) to celebrate this moment. It doesn't feel like four whole years. But here we are, in a different continent, in the warm fluidity of different places. The ipod is playing on random shuffle (I can hear music, Beachboys), and a police siren is wailing westwards along the harbour front. The water reflects the imposing buildings of the water front, which, as so often, is cut off by a busy road. There's a little bar along the way which is full of families with kids, who will stay up a lot later than we're going to manage. Living afloat brings some hefty challenges; not everyone would enjoy the insecurity, the transience, the enforced intimacy or the frightening bits (we don't like those either). But it's working out well for us, so far.