Left in the lurch?

As usual, visiting bloggers have stirred up the muddy waters of memory with their comments. Mulling over parting with kids in lifts, trains and even at the top of an escalator, causing untold terror in the mind of the abandoned parent, I realised I knew how it felt from the point of view of he, or she, who had been abandoned.

Here's today's picture through the square window of the computer screen.

As a family, we'd never been ones to jet off around the world when holidays came round, as lack of funds put paid to such grandiose happenings. But as son and daughter grew a little, along with funds in the old piggy bank, my Dad's enthusiasm for all things 'boaty' inspired us to hire a cabin cruiser and spend two weeks 'en masse' ( i.e . as an extended family party) afloat on the Norfolk Broads.

This proved to be such a magical experience, we decided to repeat the experiment a couple of years later, cruising along the Thames, only this time, we took a cousin and some neighbours too, to liven up the proceedings.

As the memories merge into one, I'm unable to pinpoint exact location for the following, but it involved a water course which split in two parts, one ending in comparatively calm water, the other rushing and gurgling over a dodgy looking weir. In the centre, in order to divide these segments, were a series of extremely large, square wooden posts and crossbars. Huge 'DANGER' warning signs were liberally scattered around the area, to warn boats to take the calm water option only. Currents and eddies swirled and the weir added its loud voice to underline the hazard. I believe there was a lock looming in this scenario as well, but what I am certain of, is that I needed to jump onto one of the wooden crossbars at one point of the proceedings, to secure a mooring line.

This is where life became interesting. The boat swung dangerously near the channel leading to the weir, and whoever was at the steering wheel ( should I have gone for the more nautical 'helm'?) decided to turn the boat away as quickly as possible, ending up going back in the direction it had come, with me still clinging to the post in the middle of the river.

So I know exactly how it feels to be abandoned.

P.S. They did come back for me - else I'd not be around to tell the tale...