I’ve always been a fan of the water.
When I was a teenager I used to wander down to the locks that were half way between the Frontier Centre and Nene Park and stand there watching the current flow beneath me.
One of my favourite mornings involved sitting on the dock at Weymouth and watching the trawlers coming in and out. I’ve even had a sailing lesson, and would have had another one if they weren’t so expensive.
Last week we decided to do something a bit different, though, and hired a canal boat for the day.
I’ve been on a canal boat twice before – once when I was little and some friends took us out on theirs, and the second time was about ten years ago when I tried to impress my wife-to-be by attempting to captain a vessel for the afternoon.
It obviously worked…
This, though, was a group effort as a few of us decided to don our captain’s hats (a mistake – only one should ever be the captain) and pootle away from Foxton Locks at speeds of up to and including three miles an hour.
It was jolly good fun and, amazingly, nothing went wrong. We managed to stay the right way up, nobody went overboard and there was no lasting damage to the paintwork on the side of the boat.
Life is far too fast-paced these days.
We communicate via high-speed fibre optic lines and are always talking about records being broken by the likes of Usain Bolt and Nico Rosberg. The idea of slowing things down and spending my Sunday at a snail’s pace is very appealing indeed – especially when the journey is broken up by some real ale and a tasty pub lunch.
Despite harbouring a secret desire to do so, I don’t think I’ll ever end up behind the wheel of a large galleon as it heads across the Atlantic Ocean in the mid 16th century, but Foxton Locks on a sunny Sunday comes a close second.