When I was very young we had a cheap inflatable dingy, the sort you see hanging outside bucket-and-spade shops by the prom. My dad, my sister and me would all cram into it and we would row out from the shore into deep water where I'd fearlessly jump off the side. We soon progressed to a Seahopper folding sailing dingy which could be carried around on a roof-rack. I remember well, fitting the rigging together and zipping up my life-jacket in readiness for another adventure.
We had a family holiday to the Norfolk Broads but I don't remember much about it. My lasting memory of it all was being allowed into pubs. Back in South London at that time, I saw pubs as dangerous, smoky, grown-up places where men went and got drunk, and occassionally had fights. In sleepy Norfolk, pubs were big, bright airy places where you could drink coke and eat fish-fingers and chips, and there were so many of them dotted along the broads.
My first experience of narrowboats was some years later when I was a somewhat surly teenager and we all went along the Avon for a week just before my exams. My mum assured me that I'd have plenty of time to revise along the way (not that I ever did much of that anyway). This time, my over-riding memory was of locks coming up every twenty minutes or so, giving me a neat excuse for not doing any study that week. I was worried before we set off that I'd be bored. In the event, the week flew by, punctuated by my sister falling in the canal and lots more pubs. What is it about pubs and water? I remember being fairly unimpressed by narrowboating that week though. It was like travelling to a holiday and never actually getting there.
Since then, I've come to realise that the journey is the most important thing.
Fast-forward to 4th November 2010 and I now own my very own narrowboat. A 55ft cruiser-stern called Beau. Tomorrow morning I'll be setting off from Braunston in Northamptonshire to come all the way back to Birmingham. The journey should take about 3 days, unless things go horribly wrong.
To say my emotions are mixed would something of an understatement. The last time I felt this nervous about something was on the morning of my wedding. I suppose I should console myself with the knowledge that my marriage was as resounding success in some ways (the number of days we didn't split up vastly outnumbered the number of days we did!) There do seem to be a number of parallels here though. I'm sure other people are focused on the event - the ceremony, the reception, the journey, but that's the easy part. The change of life is on-going and the only way I'll know if I can adapt to it is by living it.
Overall, I'm simply massively excited. The last few months have brought about a lot of changes and this is the conclusion to it all. It does feel like a real adventure; not the next 3 days, but the years ahead.
