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The next day we went to Wroxham, looked round Roys various shops, then we went and looked round Graham Bun’s yard, we were all captivated, and booked up “Fairwind 1” for the following year. Left Wroxham, down the Bure, and up the Thurne to Potter Heigham, it’s there that we saw, while moored up near the bridge, a really stupid person in a day boat (I think, as it was a long time ago) approaching the bridge, while a yacht was coming through on the ebbing tide. Fatso, with his captains’ cap, peak all covered in gold braid, started tooting his horn and shouting and gesticulating, go back, go back. Of course the yacht couldn’t go back, without power, and letting the tide take it through, and Fatso wasn’t going to give way, so CRUNCH, the bowsprit of the yacht holed the day boat, just above the water line. Fortunately the yacht didn’t appear to have suffered any damage, and nobody was injured, only Fatso’s pride.
I’m a bit vague about exactly what happened from hereon, but I believe we then made our way back to the southern Broads, without any incidents that I can recall, (getting rather expert and cocky, by this time). Then back to the boatyard , and the holiday was over. Roll on next year and Fairwind 1.
I cannot guarantee that I have included all that happened, or that the events took place in the order written down. But I think they are near enough correct, it was a long time ago.
Wayfarer, might have been an old tub, but she didn’t let us down, and the week aboard her, made me a Broads addict for life. Damp squib? How could I ever have thought it?
Ron Harrison 2006
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My First Broads Holiday September 1955
By Ron Harrison
I believe I am right in saying that it is the only Broad you could moor bow on to the shore. If you intended staying there for more than just a few hours, you had to make sure you had enough water, fuel and provisions, as there were none there, this is precisely why it was so tranquil. Once again, sailing the dinghy, and swimming were indulged for the rest of the day. Late afternoon or early evening, a man in a rowing boat, accompanied by a black Labrador dog, knocked on the side of the boat, to collect our half crown overnight mooring fee. Over the next few years I got quite used to seeing him. There were no radio’s or TV’s on board , at that time, so if we were moored out in the wilds somewhere, (and we mostly were) we would play cards or board games, or some might do a bit of night fishing. But if we were moored near to a pub, we would often start a “sing song” going, and the rest of the customers, boaters and locals, would join in.
