We found out that the appartment comes supplied with one bicycle and one boat. You know, for transportation services. Above is Yu about to wobble off to see Andy "Beardy" Edwards and Wendy "The Sprout" Sproit.
He's wearing his Mao Tse Tung hat and an alpaca scarf from his recent sojourn in South America (where, incidentally, his mate Jason was overwhelmed by a intestinal urge, several days into the Inca trail. An urge who's needs far outweighed any notions of decorum and propriety. You know where I'm going with this, don't you. That's right, ladies and gentlemen. He did a big poo on Machu Pichu. Jason is now known the length and breadth of the Andes as The Inca Stinker).
Anyhoo. Yu got the bike and I got the boat. Alas driving a boat is not "like riding a bike" and tragedy struck on my maiden voyage. Two minutes out of port and I found myself suddenly holed below the water line. My first thought, naturally enough, was that I'd been torpedoed by a duck but no, the explanation was more Amsterdamesque. I'd only gone and driven the old tub into a sunken bong abandoned by some hippie after a night on the old Waccy Baccy. 
Bloody hippies.
Anyway, they're providing a new boat tomorrow, so I'll be able to get to work via the canal system. Shiver me timbers and hoist the mainsail if it ain't so!
Me hearties.
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