Pete describes what it is really like to take part in a Broads cruise; the emotions which come into play and the grim realities of a 'holiday' on the river.
Any of us who are members of large organisations, be they educational or navigational, will know that any project falls into six stages, namely:
enthusiasm, disillusion, panic, the search for the guilty, the punishment of the innocent, praise and honours for the non-participants. A cruise on the Broads is no different. Behind the bland assurances of guide books and even blander demeanour of the seasoned Broads sailor lies a grim reality, which will force itself to the surface.
Enthusiasm.
In the days before departure you find certain visions of life on the Broads appear even more frequently during your moments of relaxation. Drifting lazily past Bure Mouth in the company of Jeunesse Dore and a crate of Chateau Laffite may be amongst them. Alternatively you may see yourself tacking through Reedham Bridge surrounded by twenty water cruisers while giving the signalperson a cheerful greeting. These are likely to hasten your preparations and evenings will be spent studying maps and recipe books or telephoning friends to assemble a party for the trip.
Disillusion.
Unfortunately this may occur all too quickly. Its onset is usually heralded by the discovery that, yet again, low water in Yarmouth is at 5.00 a.m. It is deepened when you tell your younger daughter, for the sixth time, that she cannot bring her latest boyfriend because his flat-top will interfere with wind flow over the sail. (The real reason being that you suspect he will interfere with her. Anyway he drinks which will lower the tone of the whole proceedings).
Panic.
This Is likely to occur about three feet from St. Olave’s Bridge with he mast still vertical. At such moments you realise the wealth of experience behind the saying: 'If you can keep your head while all around you are losing theirs, you may have misjudged the situation'. There is no need to panic too much because many Broads sailors are accustomed to dealing with such situations and will advise you or effecting quick and economical repairs. A roll of black sticky-tape will be useful here.
The search for the guilty.
In many ways this is the easiest part of the whole project. All you have to do is look around you. The inquest usually occurs at the end of the day, when Broad’s sailors gather like penitents before the altar. Often a nearby machine will provide soft organ music to fill the background. Then with frequent cries of 'Jesus', they will describe the various acts of God which caused reed beds to move and lift them out of the water, or shackles to turn into serpents and be cast overboard. All will be duly noted down in a large red book which will be brought forth for all to read on the Day of Judgement.
The punishment of the innocent.
There must be many people whose holiday of a life-time, courtesy of Blakes or Hoseasons, has been flavoured by frequent doubts cast on their parentage. However, we must try to remember that such persons are innocent, indeed very innocent. The 'hang ‘em and flog em' brigade should take this into account. Therefore if you are forced up the bank, even if it is the sixth time that day, remind yourself that those responsible probably led a deprived childhood (if they were in charge of one of those garish bathtubs for Yupples, this is almost certain). Put on the kettle and have a nice refreshing cup of tea while waiting for the tide to rise.
Praise and honours for the non-participants.
Despite all your efforts, such as afternoon naps or hang-overs in the morning, you cannot become a non-participant. Even jumping overboard will be to no avail because most of your crew will simply regard this as a misfortune and there will almost certainly be at least one who is sufficiently sadistic to pull you out again. At this stage in the project, common sense must at last prevail and you will realise the person who has done best out of the whole affair is the younger daughter, back at home, with at least her dignity intact, boyfriend, flat-top and all.
PS
1987