They that Go Down to the Sea in Ships

A fit of September blues, accompanied by September skies. (That means grey; where I come from September skies are famous for their particularly beautiful deep blue colour.) My September blues, however, are not merely due to the fact that summer is over; my plans for rowing up the Thames à la Three Men in a Boat are over too. For reasons I don’t want to discuss here not only we didn’t succeed in following the Three Men upriver this summer, we didn’t even have a holiday. Maybe better luck next year?

So – for a while at least – this is the last post in the Upriver series. And what better way to wind up and lighten the September blues at the same time than to immerse ourselves into some books set on boats (and envy the people who get to sail on them)?

Three Ways to Dock a Motorboat (Part II)

Continued from: Three Ways to Dock a Motorboat (Part I)

The first way was – as you hopefully read in the previous post – with precision. Well, the second way is…

The Second Way: With a Bang

Or How to Get Confused by the French

To dock a boat with a bang takes a bit more effort than the first method. To begin with, it requires involvement from somebody else on shore (although I suppose somebody else in the same boat might do just as well).

Three Ways to Dock a Motorboat (Part I)

Continued from: What Price a Thames Skiff?

We went walking on the Thames path the only sunny day this spring. I was going to point out all the jolly people rowing upriver in their beautiful Thames skiffs to my husband – I thought he needed encouragement to see things in the right light. But all I could point out were motorboats.

All I could point out were the motorboats…

What Price a Thames Skiff?

Continued from: Downriver

I was not aware until I started to google for hiring a rowing boat on the Thames but there’s an entire industry out there trying to make a living out of Jerome K. Jerome.

And of us fools who want to follow in his wake.

Downriver

Continued from: Upriver: Jerome K. Jerome Comes Out of the Woodwork

Sometime in January, I suggested to my family that we should go rowing up the Thames. À la Jerome K. Jerome. They didn’t take me seriously but I didn’t see why that should stop me. So a few weeks later, I was back on topic…

“We will need to get fit,” I said. It was a Saturday night and my husband and I were alone in the living room with a bottle of red. “We’ll need to practise.”

Upriver (Jerome K. Jerome Comes Out of the Woodwork)

“Let’s row up the Thames.”

I said this towards the end of dinner sometime in January . “Like in Three Men in a Boat,” I specified, in case anyone around the dinner table was in the slightest doubt.

My husband gave me a wary look from the opposite end of the table. On my left, Sophisticated Young Lady tried (and failed) not to look immensely relieved that she was old enough to be excused family holidays. I can’t remember whether Young Friend of the Elephants was in favour or not. But either way, she got over-excited. She always gets over-excited.