Legends from our own lunchtimes

Saturday, July 06, 2019

The riddle of life.
Sunday 23rd June - Petit Port to Abbeville

We got out of bed, (late-ish) looked at the clear blue sky and thought it would be a perfect day for doing not much at all.  Perhaps we’d hang around and read for a bit, go for a stroll, and mosey up to the cafe at drink o’clock to watch the world go by.   A perfect plan one would have thought, but there’s a tiny speck of a grey cloud hanging over it.  Perhaps it’s because the boat is actually where we live, that the fact that we have done nothing by days end, perhaps leaves us tinged with just the tiniest glimmer of something akin to guilt.  It's barely perceptible admittedly, but it's definitely there.

If instead we had turned up in the morning in our car with our paddle boards and umbrella, laid our towels on the dock, hung around and read for a bit, gone for a short paddle in lieu of a stroll and then moseyed up to the cafe at drink o’clock to watch the world go by, why would we have returned home in the evening happy and well satisfied that we’d had a wonderfully productive day out?

It’s the curse of the cruising boatman.


Ian said...

Even by your exceptional standards, this is a superb posting. The definitive exposition on, if not the actual genesis of the term ‘Curse of the Boatman’ (consider this as a title for a book!).

Ian said...

‘Curse of the Cruising Boatman’

Vallypee said...

I like Curse of the Boatman better. It’s more intriguing :)

And Peter, you have a point, but at the same time, you are in the happy position of living in your holiday home, so you can be both productive AND idle with equal impunity.

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