We have been living on our narrowboat this week. We are lucky that it is moored relatively closely to our house so we can stay there without breaking too many rules, and it needed some maintenance for the start of the season. It is amazing how good it felt to get back to being on the boat. We so miss travelling on it, and hope that maybe next month we will be allowed once again to cast off the ropes and set off along the canals. The dogs loved it too. When we bought the boat I worried that the dogs would get claustrophobic, or would hate the engine noise, or would keep jumping off in the water. But like us, as soon as they arrive they seem to settle. The only problem we have with them is that they consider the towpath as being part of their territory, and so bark at other dogs walking nearby.
I was reading an article on a narrowboat forum this week, and came across the idea of “shiny narrowboaters”. These are people who care more about the appearance of the boat than what they do with it. I think that I am quite shiny. One of the jobs I did this week was repainting the roof and one side of the boat (I ran out of paint). I also varnished some woodwork, changed a left hand cleat for a right hand one (getting too technical for a blog here!) and put up a sign that was made for me by my work friends when I retired. I think the boat looks very smart.
However, for some in the narrowboat community, I am concentrating on the wrong things. Boats are about living on, not about polishing. I am sure there is some truth in this, but I still like it to look good.
One of the things I love about narrowboating is that the canal community in incredibly varied and tolerant. We have hippies who want an alternative life, We have young people who cannot afford a house. We have people on their first ever canal holiday, and those that have lived their life here. We have people who make their living on the water, and those like me, who have retired from all that, and want the peace. And we all rub along just fine. There is something about the common enjoyment of boating that brings us all together.
And so yes, some may call me “shiny” but it is said with a smile, and with respect. I love my narrowboat, and I love my friends on the water. Good health to you all, whether shiny or not.
This week I watched a whole cricket test match for the first time. A couple of blogs ago I wrote about learning to love American Football (well done the Buccaneers). At least with cricket I know the rules. And I have been to a day of a test match before – it requires a very different mindset to watching short form cricket such as 20:20. You settle into your seat, and read a newspaper or have a drink while the game goes on slowly slowly. One of my followers, Matt, commented that American Football is like chess with violence. Test cricket is like chess but slower. And this week I committed to all five days of England against India.
For many people, the idea of spending five days watching a sports game would seem to be a complete waste of time. Especially when one of the likely outcomes is a draw. But the opportunity for me was a luxury that I would never have chosen when I was working. And I found it to bring a kind of mindfulness.
Over the years I have practiced a little amateur meditation in order to wash away the cares in my mind. By actions such as concentrating on relaxing areas of my body, I have found a peacefulness that has helped during times of stress. I found the test match did much the same for me. There were moments of excitement when I sat forward to see whether a wicket would be taken or runs scored. But for much of the time I found that repeated quiet defensive play became really quite relaxing.
Now I should confess that in UK time, each day started at 4am, so I missed the first hour or two. I also often took the dogs out in the snow while listening to the match on my headphones. But I think the principle of enjoying slow play still applies. So much so that I plan to watch the second test starting tomorrow.
Most of us live in a rush where we resent wasted time. Technology such as mobile phones has made this worse. How many of us look at our phones whenever we get a spare 30 seconds? Even when we go on holiday, too many of us are “always on”. So I think I am privileged to be learning that taking time just to be me can be so rewarding.
Have you ever watched a test match? Or maybe took several days to do as little as possible? Let me know.
12 months ago I was in India . It seems a lifetime ago. When I was working I used to visit India two or three times a year and much of it became routine for me. But I never lost the sense of privilege and I would have an adventure to see a new place each time. A year ago it was Jaipur, the famed Pink City. It was very hot but also very beautiful.
Twelve months on, and I am no longer working, and certainly no longer hot. I still feel privileged, because near where I live in Scotland we have beautiful countryside and the snow has made it even more energising. But I do often wake up and think of a new adventure to go on, only to realise that the pandemic rules still get in the way.
I feel as if in the past year everything has changed and yet nothing has changed. We have all been through restrictions that I never thought would happen. We have all seen a level of illness and death that feel more like a war than a virus. But in other ways it feels as if someone has just pressed pause on our lives, and as soon as vaccines allow, we will all burst from our cocoons more eager than ever before to seek out new adventures and live the life that has been denied to us these past 12 months.
I guess in reality international travel is unlikely until the world has been vaccinated but even to travel in the UK would mean so much. I want to meet friends and family. I want to meet strangers. I want a hug. I want to be jostled in a busy pub. I want noise. I want to be able to get in my car or my boat and travel without a destination.
What were you doing 12 months ago? Will it be something that has changed your life, or a year to forget as soon as you can?