Recorded Books Inc. - Narrow Focus

Narrow Focus

Marie Browne

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

So, much to everyones surprise (especially mine) we appear to have arrived at the fourth book in what was originally destined to be a set of three.

Those of you who have read Narrow Margins, Narrow Minds and Narrow Escape (thank you) can probably skip to Chapter One because youll know where we are. However, for those with poor memories (and my hand is the first to rise here) or those who may have picked up this book out of curiosity I thought a quick catch-up would be in order.

In 2005, Rover finally collapsed into the financial black hole that it had been slowly but surely creating for the previous ten years.

Within weeks the big company had disappeared without trace, without a by-your-leave and without paying its bills. Just like a collapsing star, many smaller businesses were sucked into the void alongside the falling company and one of them was ours.

Even now Im not quite sure whether it was sheer panic at the realisation that wed just lost everything we possessed, or merely a momentary lapse of reason, but we decided that buying a decrepit narrowboat and moving onto a river was the only way to go.

It hadnt occurred to us for even a minute that two nature-avoiding computer geeks, their ageing dog and assorted geekette children might be ill-equipped to deal with such a radical change. We also hadnt realised what an effect such a change in living circumstances was going to have on us.

For two years my husband, Geoff, two children, Charley and Sam, and I worked on Happy Go Lucky while in turn, quietly, gently and without making a big fuss about it, she worked on us. Our eldest daughter, Amelia, had taken one look at the whole plan and refused point blank to live aboard a floating coffin as she so succinctly put it. She was happy with the occasional visit during university holidays.

When it came to the time to sell the boat we all cheered. After all, with our financial worries sorted out, there was no reason to put up with such a challenging lifestyle any longer; we could go back to normality. We certainly werent going to miss the ice that formed on the inside of the windows every winter and we definitely wouldnt miss the intermittent falls into the river. In fact, there was a whole list of things we werent going to miss: the overflowing toilets, the time we spent stranded when we managed to get Happy Go Lucky stuck, the water tank that ran out at the most inopportune moments, the cramped conditions and the spiders that felt we were the interlopers in their domain. So we walked away with cash in our pockets and a sigh of relief.

Within days wed worked out that, while the list of things we disliked was substantial, the list of things we missed was vast. Little things: the peace and quiet, the spirals of mist on cold mornings, the slower pace of life, the fantastic people who make up the boating community and the ability to really breathe. Within six months we were back on a boat, another seventy-foot narrowboat even more decrepit than the last, and despite such challenges as losing our mooring, floods and frozen rivers thats where weve been ever since.

No longer fresh-air avoiding office dwellers, were a long way from the sixty-hour weeks and full bank accounts that used to be the norm. Geoff is now a qualified electrician; Sam, at the beginning of all this a tow-headed little six-year-old, is now studying for his A Levels; and Im happy working for a couple of days a week at a local supermarket. Charley, our middle child, the hellion, has grown up, left the boat and wandered off to wreak havoc in the real world. Although we miss her energy and that divine ability to leap without thinking into some disaster or other, without her life is quieter and Im less inclined to believe in an imminent heart attack. Amelia, now married to one of the loveliest and most sensible men Ive ever met, has presented us with the tiny oddities that are grandchildren. (Children that you can feed ice cream to, wind up until theyre blue with excitement and then casually wave goodbye to until the next visit revenge is sweet).

Were living proof that once you take a step off the wheel you can view the whole born, work, die thing from a new perspective. We are told that to measure your worth against that of your peers you merely have to count your possessions. If those on your social level have better things than you youre a failure: try harder, spend more. But what happens when you give it all away, take a job that gives you time, not money, and really take the opportunity to look around you and enjoy what you have?

Not always, but occasionally, opportunities are disguised as disasters and its up to all of us to keep an open mind. Sometimes youre being offered something wonderful and if youre not careful you might just miss it.

Its been over ten years since Narrow Margins and, despite hard-earned experience, there are still times when river life takes us by surprise. You can read about some of them here.

CHAPTER ONE

NOBODY LIKES ME, EVERYBODY HATES ME; IM GOING TO GO AND EAT WORMS!

What happened? I peered out of the window and scowled at the weather. Last night the sky was full of stars. Now I cant even see the grass just beyond the mooring. What is this?

Geoff wandered up and leant on my shoulder as he too peered through the glass. Welcome to England thatll be fog, he said. Not quite the classic pea-souper more a cream of mushroom, Id say.

Yes, thank you, Mr Pedantic. I used my sleeve to wipe at the glass. This far out into the fens there really wasnt that much to see, even on a crystal clear day. Add a thick layer of churning water vapour and youd be lucky to see the grass around the mooring pins. I gave up wiping the windows all I was doing was smearing the condensation into waves and runnels; I wasnt making any difference to the fog outside. Were expected at the new moorings today. We cant run through this.

Despite waiting so long (an entire winter) to get through the big locks that admitted boats into the Middle Levels I had to admit I was having second thoughts about our new moorings. After discussing this on one of the user groups that Geoff frequented, our exciting new pitch had come up in conversation. To my horror the moorings had been completely slammed by a couple who had previously lived there and had left in what sounded like high dudgeon. They didnt really go into detail about what had happened, but were totally dismissive of the site, the owner and were very scathing about the staffs ability to handle heavy machinery beyond that they would say nothing. Although wed visited, had looked around and everything had seemed fine, I just couldnt get rid of the little voice in my head that kept saying we were, once again, heading for a traumatic time.

Even after years of experience at manoeuvring the equivalent of a twenty ton steel pencil through narrow ditches, canals, and wider, faster flowing rivers, I still baulked when I couldnt see what I was supposed to be aiming for. Minerva, our narrowboat, when fully equipped with rope fenders and buttons, was just over seventy-foot long and, even on a clear day, it was impossible to see the very tip way, way ahead of you. Its impossible to see the front of any large narrowboat unless youre eight foot tall or standing on a box. However, with enough meander miles under your belt, you do end up with a pretty good idea of where the front is, even if you cant actually see it; I can tell within seconds when Im going to hit something. But cover the world in fog and reduce the visibility to thirty feet and moving our floating home becomes an exercise in hope, prayer and a certain disregard for public safety. Under normal circumstances we wouldnt even consider it.