A new POV on a floating life

What an amazing fortnight it’s been – a joyous wedding in glorious sunshine of our youngest daughter and the gaining for us of a wonderful son-in-law. The bringing together of so many friends and four generations of family from all over the globe, some we haven’t see for years, and many who haven’t seen each other for years, or ever met in some cases. So many hugs, conversations, and joyful emotions in one place on one very special day.

Stunning photographs will capture moments forever but unique days like that when you know how precious time is, result unexpectedly in deep dive conversations. For me many of those brought our decision to move from bricks and mortar onto a narrowboat into a new perspective, the perspective of how others view that move. Some have voiced their thoughts over the past 5 years, but I’ve not had the chance to hear what many family and friends thought. Some have been afloat with us over the years but many have not.

There were clearly different viewpoints – all of which we’ve heard from time to time, except the last…

“How amazing to do that” 

“Wish we/I could but I don’t have the confidence, courage or cash”

“You’ve always been a bit mad, so this is the next stage for you” 

“Don’t know how you can live like that, cramped, claustrophobic and always moving on, never feeling settled.”

It became clearly obvious to me just how quiet life is afloat, particularly so as I’ve spent much of the last 4 months alone with the excellent but not chatty boatdog. Within hours of the preparation day before the wedding, I was feeling exhausted – concentrating on multiple conversations in different languages. It is hard both mentally and physically. Trying to remember names, and who said what or who I’d said what to so I didn’t keep repeating myself was a brain workout I hadn’t expected. My voice packed up quite rapidly, reducing itself to a gravelly croak by the end of the wedding day. A week later it’s only just beginning to return, and I’ve also found myself beset by some sort of virus (fortunately not Covid apparently). Another realisation of how rarely I come into contact with lots of people and talk to them – clearly that just means I’m an antisocial boater!

Around the wedding, we had a week in bricks and mortar in a rural holiday cottage. It was a delight in some ways that instantly come to mind – huge spaces to walk around, space to fling your arms out and twirl with glee, a private garden to sit in, flushing the loo without calculating how many days are left before it need changing/ emptying and a bath to soak in with unlimited hot water. For us, not having an oven onboard, we had a chance to do some different cooking, too.

It also underlined why bricks and mortar now has limitations for us. Views remain the same, changed very slowly by only seasons or weather. If there are external factors that grate – from neighbours to being on a flight path at certain times, you can’t just pull up your mooring ropes and move on. Walks always start the same day after day. You are removed from the weather outside, often for hours at a time. We were distanced from nature by the built  environment – no ducks or swans tapping a morning alarm.

We returned to the boat with two friends who had never experienced a narrowboat. I feel 2 nights afloat on a 50ft boat with 4 adults plus a Boatdog helped them delight in the flora and wildlife of England’s canals whilst also feeling the resulting space constraints of our lifestyle. It helped me to see how I can move things around to give more space even when there aren’t so many of us!

Now though it’s back to Boatdog and I on the boat alone without a car. If I’m honest, I love that too much. We’ve found it relaxing and a time to recuperate and reorganise. I’ve had more exercise, transporting toilet cassettes by borrowed trailer along the towpath to an Elsan point, arranging Click and Collect shopping into my backpack, and sleeping for obviously necessary hours. Thoughts now exist of remodelling the kitchen and battery bank to install an electric oven on board although in the winter the stove will still be the key cooking spot. 

Maybe all this actually underlines that this floating life is actually an opportunity to have the best of all worlds, the chance to float through life and work combined with the opportunity to holiday on land in a cottage with a bath! 

One magnificent, memorable day looks like changing more than just the lives of our beautiful bride and proud groom in many ways! It also made me realise that whatever you want to achieve for your children you can – I managed with a lot of help to create bouquets (happy), buttonholes (which I would do very differently another time), and the piece de resistance of a floral broken arch. All after years of believing after a passing comment by my own mother that I had no ability or eye for arranging flowers. It’s a lesson for all of us, mothers or not. Don’t limit others’ beliefs in themselves inadvertently or deliberately.

We can all do much more than we believe with the right impetus and support. We can also all live our dreams that way too.