Simply messing about…

The cover of my old book evokes such lovely thoughts.

Rat (Ratty to his friends) was so right

… There is nothing — absolutely nothing — half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats …

I read the Wind In The Willows as a child – living in Queensland. The nearest significant water was the Myall Creek – some 17 miles away.

You note – I said creek.

It didn’t always have much water in it – but sometimes it was big enough to swim in, and to paddle about in a blow up dingy. But a proper boat – not a chance.

One of the reasons I loved Wind in The Willows was the wonderful description of the gentle green English countryside… so very different from the wide brown plains I lived on. Now that I live in the Thames valley – I appreciate it even more.

But growing up – the thought of messing about in boats was as alien to me as walking on the moon.

There was not much of an opportunity for boating in my home town (well - it wasn't a town really.) — There was not much of an opportunity for boating in my home town (well – it wasn’t a town really.)

I have just spent a wonderful few days on a boat on the Norfolk Broads.. and am now a convert. Ratty was so right – on a boat …

… Nothing seems really to matter, that’s the charm of it. Whether you get away, or whether you don’t; whether you arrive at your destination or whether you reach somewhere else, or whether you never get anywhere at all …

Of course - our boat had a few more luxuries than Kenneth Graham could have imagined - hot water showers, on board cooking and a fridge. — Of course – our boat had a few more luxuries than Kenneth Grahame could have imagined – hot water showers, on board cooking and a fridge.

We did a lot of not getting anywhere at all. We pottered around the rivers and canals and admired the many windmills.

There were windmills everywhere. I'm not sure how much actual work they do today - but they look wonderful. — There were windmills everywhere. I’m not sure how much actual work they do today – but they look wonderful.

We moored in the open broads and drank wine as the sun sank. We talked to ducks and coots and swans and cormorants… although the cormorants were not as chatty as the mallards.

The Broads of course are full of history – and being a history buff, I had to check some of it out. There is a lovely little Museum of the Broads in Stalham which informed me about peat cutting and what a wherry is.

The water cycle was used in the 1960s by a policemen to 'dredge the rivers and broads and to retrieve bodies and other stuff'. — The water cycle was used in the 1960s by a policemen to ‘dredge the rivers and broads and to retrieve bodies and other stuff’.

But for once – the history took second place for me behind the total joy having no computer, no internet, no TV and most of the time no mobile phone coverage.

I get it Ratty.

… there’s always something else to do, and you can do it if you like, but you’d much better not…

Oh yes!

…the river still chattered on to him, a babbling procession of the best stories in the world, sent from the heart of the earth to be told at last to the insatiable sea.