Good evening, fellow poets. Or, I guess, good morning, good afternoon, good night. We are a global phenomenon, after all.
It’s Sarah here, from fmmewritespoems, writing from the south west corner of England. I shouldn’t be here at all – I’m supposed to be in Australia right now, but that pesky global pandemic put paid to that. Instead, my summer holiday ended up being a week on a narrowboat in Cheshire. It wasn’t quite Australia, but it was a great trip. I already knew I loved early industrial engineering. I discovered that I loved canal life – enough freedom to moor up where you want, socially distanced interactions with fellow bargees, and a view into lots of back gardens. We saw herons, a kingfisher, and about a million ducks. We saw the mist rising off the water at 5.30 am.
Put-putting along the canal, I was struck by the number of people who own their own narrowboats – and other boats, too – kayaks and canoes, rowing boats, small cruisers – and the number of people who live on them permanently. At one lock we met a man who hadn’t slept on dry land for three years. I enjoyed the names of the boats, too – a series of found poems.