Two years of boating and two years since my original forum post quite literally launched a new career for me later... I had wine with dinner again tonight.

 

1. People laugh at you for thinking that you can ever wear a dress/skirt while living on a boat. But they soon pipe down when circumstance catches you resplendent in a floor length party dress, fleece jacket, socks and yes, flip flops... Hanging down into the engine bilge and disconnecting one of your batteries in an emergency, while scowling at the fully Helly-Hansoned up Experienced Boater who is “helpfully” calling out distant advice to you while staying totally clean themselves.

2. You don’t think twice about asking someone you only met in the pub last night to watch your boat/feed your cats for you while you go away for a few days, and you also know after a half hour of talking to them that they will be safe and trustworthy to do so.

3. You can spot another boater in the pub at 50 paces, but you have no idea how.

4. So if you find a set of boater’s lost keys on the towpath, you simply walk to the nearest pub and home in on the two-three groups of boaters present psychically within 30 seconds of entering, without having to ask the bar staff to make an announcement, and invariably find your man.

5. Similarly, random diesel-scented strangers will seek you out in the pub, say “you’re obviously a boater” and ask you which boat is yours... Even when you have been in the shower for hours and have donned your best togs and a full face of make up and had planned to go out clubbing with the REAL people, leaving your inherent boaty-ness behind.

6. You can always spot the part-timer/ over-important “I own a boat” types at canalside businesses, before you even hear their voices, by the presence of their pressed “going to the pub” Chino’s, deck shoes and prominently placed brand new keyfloats on the bar in front of them. Before they even open their mouths, and loudly state something irrelevant about their engine, how often they clean the boat, or how nice the mooring they are on is, you just know that they are “boaters,” but only go to the boat twice a year and are just showing off.

7. You no longer look up in disbelief when you find someone staring into your kitchen window and passing a loud Attenborugh-esque commentary about “Oh look, she has a sink! She must have running water in there! Oh my word, she is WASHING DISHES! Do you think her water comes from the canal?”

8. You’re really careful about where and how you put things down so they won’t fall off the side when the boat rocks; but then remember that you’re in a house!

9. You stand stupidly in the hotel bathroom for 30 seconds looking for the switch for the shower pump before remembering how real life works, and turning the water on.

10. It seems perfectly normal to you to share your life history, hopes and dreams and secret fears with your new best friend who moored next to you for one night only, got drunk with you and whose name you can’t remember, who then set off in the morning before you woke up, because you “connected.” And obviously, you are best friends and pick up right where you left off when you run into each other again two years later on, unexpectedly, somewhere else far, far away.

11. Your Mother is completely flummoxed when you visit her by your propensity to turn off all unneeded lights and equipment the second you finish using them-When throughout your teenage years, you were never happy unless you left a light show to rival Vegas in all of the rooms you walked out of.

12. Both you and your Mother are equally flummoxed to learn that when you do visit said Mother in a house, you have literally forgotten how to get up a flight of stairs, other than on all fours, like some kind of retarded puppy.

13. You have no idea which side the land is on when you wake up, and trying to decide without cheating and opening a curtain turns into something of a “choose your adventure” game for you every time you wake up on a new mooring.

14. You always grab the collar of any dog before they leap to shore, just to make sure that they are not inadvertently jumping off on the wrong side. Again.

15. Comments from canal-side pub garden gongoozlers like “Oooh, do you live on your boat? How lovely! You are so lucky! What a lovely fairytale life you must lead!” Lead to fast invitations to spend a day on your liveaboard boat... The day that you need to empty the toilet and collect your 30 bags of coal from the road bridge 200 yards away from the cut.

16. Random strangers on the towpath out walking for the day regard you as the wildflower almanac, and ask you if those weird-looking mushrooms near your mooring are safe to eat. And then believe you, whatever you say, just because you live on a boat and so, are obviously akin to a herbalist, and never buy your edible fungi in Asda or anything like normal people do.

17. People spot you working on your computer on the bow of your boat in the height of summer, and automatically assume that you are an unemployable rabble-rousing “ anarchist writer” or political activist, and are either claiming the dole, living on Daddy’s money, or simply could not hold down a real job to save your life... Just because you are under 60, and not suited, booted and in an office, as there is no way on God’s green earth that someone can legitimately work in such nice conditions and actually get paid to do so, obviously.

18. When friends and family phone you, they get used to your response to “where exactly are you moored at the moment?” Being “Oh, Northamptonshire I think, or possibly Warwickshire... Or at a push, Oxfordshire...”

19. You start to feel like just living on a boat has caused you to become insular, single minded and disconnected from the rest of society to the point that simple shopping trips into town or meetings with non-boaters become something to psyche yourself up to, choose your outfit for and put your game face on for, long before you go out.

20. You go from feeling like the Messiah of living afloat and trying to indoctrinate people into the wonder of boat life at every turn, to actively deflecting people from realising that you live on a boat to avoid the never-ending same-y questions that this always promotes.

21. Aldi is your most favourite shop, ever. You plan moorings and stop-offs around it and everything. Oh, they also sell food? Who knew!

22. You start to answer to the name of your boat; in fact, you head turns faster when someone calls it than it does if someone says your own name. This becomes particularly confusing if you named your boat in honour of a long-dead relative, and you spend a few seconds after someone intones it thinking that the person in front of you is psychic, and about to deliver a message from your long lost relative, rather than simply asking you if that is your boat!

23. People nod approvingly and commend you for the low carbon footprint that you must have and the low-impact lifestyle that you lead... While you hang out of the open door talking to them and sweating like a pig because the coal stove is too hot despite all the windows being open, trying to make yourself heard over the noise of the engine running to charge your batteries.

 

24.

 

25. That dodgy, vaguely scary bloke with the prison tattoo’s that you moored by a while ago in desperation is now the most trustworthy and reliable friend that you know.

 

26. That Chino'd up Shiny Boater with the comb-over toupee and prominently displayed Aston Martin keyring was actually the first person who rolled up their sleeves and helped to dig the crud out of your weed hatch for you when you got proper stuck.

 

27. Gas ran out boiling the kettle, and not during a shower. I WIN this round of gas bottle roulette, thank you for watching, tune in next time.

 

28. The sound of the bow thruster is like the mating call of the Shiny Boat, because when I hear it, I know there's a 50-50 chance that said boat is about to start trying to hump my Springer. And apparently, shiny boats are really hot for Springers.

 

29. You have had a go with a bow thruster/ Girly Button. And you liked it, and are not quite sure how to deal with this, actually.

 

30. You’re not a Real Boater until you’ve spent at least one night on Tawny Owl.

Edited August 12, 201412 yr by Starcoaster

31. You're not a real boater until you wear a panama hat, have a muffin top and can ignore passing walkers who smile and say hello because your shiny boat means your considerably richer than they are.

Brilliant, Star. Utterly bloody brilliant!

Great follow up, glad to see you have grown into a properbboater!!

Another brilliant collection Starry.....Not often is the follow up as funny....

30. You’re not a Real Boater until you’ve spent at least one night on Tawny Owl.

 

Yay!

 

That means we ARE proper boaters

 

Thanks for another chuckle Starry!

Brilliant Star, I see what awaits ....I apologise for going down shiny boat and bow thruster route...look at that as one who was easily led and influenced by others who I see as being far more experienced than me. As i named my boat after myself, my dads nickname for me I will answer when she is called....and think dads there somewhere.

A lovely post which i enjoyed reading.

Love it !! Greenie for you....wish it could be a gold star greenie !

Hmm bow thrusters. So according to that I'm a shiny boater. Whoda thunk it!

You really must write your autobiography, it will be a runaway best seller!

Cheered me up no end.

 

Bod

#9 is so true :-)

Brilliant !

 

A worthy successor to your first list.

 

Tc

simply fantastic Starry! I love your quirky written obsevations.

Now that is good, 10 out of 10 and you can have a gold star and be excused detention for the rest of the term.

Loved it! Brilliant! Thanks,

Bob

13. You have no idea which side the land is on when you wake up, and trying to decide without cheating and opening a curtain turns into something of a “choose your adventure” game for you every time you wake up on a new mooring.

 

 

13a. And once you have figured out which side the land is, you relax and go back to sleep. Then a boat scares you witless by going past on the towpath side.

 

 

MtB

I was grinning like a lunatic all the way through. Have a Greenie.

 

13a. And once you have figured out which side the land is, you relax and go back to sleep. Then a boat scares you witless by going past on the towpath side.

 

 

MtB

THIS^ :-)

 

 

1. People laugh at you for thinking that you can ever wear a dress/skirt while living on a boat. But they soon pipe down when circumstance catches you resplendent in a floor length party dress, fleece jacket, socks and yes, flip flops...

 

I don't usually dress like this. Am I a proper boater?

I like the progression from the first one to this one, showing a years worth of further experience.

Great!!!!

But I really relate to number 12

Two years of boating and two years since my original forum post quite literally launched a new career for me later... I had wine with dinner again tonight.

 

<snip>

 

13. You have no idea which side the land is on when you wake up, and trying to decide without cheating and opening a curtain turns into something of a “choose your adventure” game for you every time you wake up on a new mooring.

 

Tawny has an odd variation of this game, called 'which way is the front' caused by her mirror image construction. This can be further complicated by seeing a boat approaching in one of the mirrors on the end walls of the cabin. After a couple of days, I get really confused

 

30. You’re not a Real Boater until you’ve spent at least one night on Tawny Owl.

 

30. You’re not a Real Boater Banterer until you’ve spent had at least one night meal on Tawny Owl. Sleeping on Tawny puts you in the elite of Team Tawny Owl

 

Richard

Edited August 12, 201412 yr by RLWP

 

17. People spot you working on your computer on the bow of your boat in the height of summer, and automatically assume that you are an unemployable rabble-rousing “ anarchist writer” or political activist, and are either claiming the dole, living on Daddy’s money, or simply could not hold down a real job to save your life... Just because you are under 60, and not suited, booted and in an office, as there is no way on God’s green earth that someone can legitimately work in such nice conditions and actually get paid to do so, obviously.

 

Ironically no one has ever assumed I'm an anarchist.

I am an anarchist, but my boat is dead shiny! Arrgh, divide by zero error, goes off clutching head.

 

Good list.

I am an anarchist, but my boat is dead shiny! Arrgh, divide by zero error, goes off clutching head.

 

Good list.

 

Are you the Antichrist as well? If so, I know a song about you

 

Richard