I have always wanted to live on a boat. I’ve spent considerable time on boats, primarily sailboats, and have slept on them numerous times, but that’s not the same as living on one. In Vancouver, there are houseboats in False Creek, and they are lovely, although quite expensive: they’re sorts of places artists and actors live – trendy, close to town, artsy and off-beat as well. I briefly had a deal with someone to share a houseboat, but it fell through – when I showed up with my stuff, he wasn’t even there, so I had to crash with friends. There’s nothing like being a student and moving with all your possessions in milk crates and duffle bags in a friend’s car.
This boat is on the canal, and it’s for rent, but only for holidays – a floating camper van, or caravan. They’re called narrowboats, and they used to move all sorts of goods along the canals of England. Now they’re outfitted for slightly alternative holidaymakers – the kind who are slightly too environmental, or middle-class, for an actual caravan park. I’d love to have one, or rent one, but I can’t imagine Martin agreeing – he has no consciousness of the romance of boats.