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I agree with much of the above regarding the over-hyped holiday that becomes a holy grail to so many, regardless of cost, time and stress. Although cruising (and it is by no means a 'luxury' form of travel, unless one chooses such) has re-kindled my need for a relaxing change of scene, I too could cheerfully go without any significant 'away-break' as there is always something worthwhile to do at home or nearby. That said, our recently-completed seaside flat (intended for family and friends to use as a bolt-hole) does provide an enjoyable home-from-home and is pefectly viable for a day trip or a couple of nights, being an easy 48 mile car ride away (65 minutes consistently). My brother and his wife have owned a narrowboat for many years. Great fun, although I am not often invited aboard (despite various plumbing and joinery jobs done on same). The 'servicing' cost can be fairly significant, and the limitation posed by home-base location can be a damper when a trip in further parts is desired. But I guess, Freddy, that the Grand Union would be within easy reach of your home and a mooring there (if you can find one) is a pretty good place to start from - although somewhere on the BCN would be even better if not perhaps so salubrious.

I've never been big on holidays, ever. I have too many times, watched people struggle through 50 weeks of the year, to ensure they had a good time for their two week holiday. Not for me. I prefer 50 weeks of having a good time, and two weeks of wall-staring (if it came to it). "Life" is a holiday to me, even when working. When we're away and Mrs Freddy is doing her sun-lounger work-out, book in hand, I'm either exploring the (usually desolate) sea-bed when snorkelling, or seeing how far I can walk without being missed. The canal holiday doesn't involve long queues or security checks. Nor being somewhere two hours before I do anything useful, and avoids 2-4 hours of enduring the irritating passenger in front of me having reclined their chair into my face, 5 minutes after I sat down. The narrow boat (or not so narrow boat) idea got far enough this year for me to have priced up one or two, with a view to making a purchase. A good bit cheaper than a second (brick) home .... "Nail on head". For at least one year, we had three holidays, and for a long period, two a year. Ibiza in September (and sometimes May), Lanzarote in February. These days, air travel is so unpleasant, I just don't want to go. It's never been a pleasure, though I like airports, (so romantic) but air travel has never been enjoyable at all. While Mrs Freddy used to try to entice me with; "Where d'you want to go? I'll pay!" Even a free one is unattractive when you have to go through the security procedure. There were some periods when 'work' involved air travel (my brother travels extensively to the Far East every other week), were that the case now, I'd be looking for employment elsewhere. Root canal work, is quicker and less painful.

I have no claims to be a linguist (cunning or otherwise! ) and did not take to learning French at grammar school, although I did pass at O level on my second attempt and can just about make myself understood if in Frogland (which is rarely). Strangely enough, my wife (who lived/worked in Brussels for some time) fancies herself as a French speaker but I don't think she is any better than me. Neither of us is qualified enough to have French letters after our names . I also studied Latin at school for three years, hated it and was glad to give it up. But I found Latin both interesting and useful when immersed in my legally-based work in later life and I then wished I was more accomplished. It was useful too, when on a narrowboat holiday, to remember in medio tutissimus ibis: 'it is better to steer a middle course'. When overseas, whilst rarely being able to understand or speak more than a smattering of any foreign tongue, I do find myself unconsciously adopting a pseudo-local accent. I think this is quite common, and applies equally when elsewhere in the UK, e.g. north of Watford or west of Reading. It's by no means hard to become a Bristolian or a Brummy, for example, without special effort.

Almost all of my travels for a good many years now - or at least a very high percentage of my travels - have been for work. I am increasingly becoming a homebody in my down time, quite happy to explore the lanes on my bicycle or sit in the back garden and improve my mind with a Mickey Spillane or Perry Mason. I like being in interesting, far off places - sometimes - but I do not like travelling there, the exact opposite of my youth when it was all about the journey, and the feeling of liberation I felt when I started off. The destination was nearly irrelevant. Nowadays the journey - typically by air - is deeply unpleasant as a rule. I can still enjoy settling in for a long train journey, up to Scotland, say, or a sea voyage (not on a glitzy cruise ship, never been on one of those, but on an expedition) but those opportunities do not come up often. Generally it is air and a trip to the airport has become to me like the halo before a migraine.

I think I mentioned before that I was going to assist a friend to install central heating in a flat he owns (asnd is re-letting shortly). I have been doing so for much of the last fortnight and we are now almost finished, with the boiler about to be 'signed-off' by a friendly (and suitably qualified) heating engineer. The work has not gone as smoothly or as swiftly as we hoped (does it ever?), mainly due to shortcomings in the existing plumbing which we have had to overcome by a mixture of skill, subterfuge and sheer hard work. And not helped (in my case) by a return of some sciatica, thus impeding my getting into the usual awkward places and positions (which make the Kama Sutra look positively tame). We were somewhat taken aback today when lifting the boiler into position. It is a Glow-worm combi, chosen because it is one of the very few that offers a rear-exit flue and could thus fit into the confined vertical space within a kitchen cupboard. The boiler itself is, I understand, considered reliable. The boiler-area preparation and pipe-fitting was certainly more complex and time-consuming than any I have done before but went well enough. But actually locating the boiler onto its wall-mounted securing frame was not a piece of cake. The boiler is clearly stated as being OK to mount with a minimum of 20mm clear space above; we had it almost 40mm below the ceiling. But after lifting it onto its brackets (not easy when both high up and heavy, apart from limitations of any personal weakness!), we were supposed to secure it to the frame with a screw through the TOP of the boiler casing. Yes, well: where can I get an implement that will allow vertical insertion of a small self-tapping screw into an almost invisible hole at the back of a gap of less than 20mm in height? A quick call to Mr Glow-worm brought the considered response that the screw could be omitted as the boiler would not fall off the wall and connection of the pipework would improve its rigidity. Both proved true but I am not happy with the slop still apparent at the top, and even less with such a simple design fault which Glow-worm acknowledged but could not explain - and, unhelpfully, found my suggested idea of substituting a simple peg or even a bent wire that could be pushed into the location 'not a method Glow-worm could approve' as it was non-standard. Nothing 'idiot-proof' here, I fear. I will report further when the boiler is commissioned - and assuming nothing blows up or falls off.