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In the morning it was my turn to cook the breakfast for my crew while they went off to get the morning papers. I dutifully prepared the breakfast in the kitchen (or should I say galley even on such a little boat?) I had the bacon frizzling in the pan when I heard a woman’s voice calling out, she sounded pretty worried and insistent. I went up on deck and was mildly terrified to see that the ultra kind and considerate guy on the inside had untied, not only his boat but ours too and had shot off without a word. Nice!  So there we were 20 tonnes of wood, a rookie sailor and a rookie woman sailor (whose hubby had also gone for the papers) tied together drifting sideways on the very considerable River Bure current. A very solid looking bank on our left (port for those who don’t know) and bloody great oak piles on our right (starboard). Somehow between going back below deck to switch off the gas and going back up to calm down the woman and untie her boat (typical woman; could drive but couldn’t do knots!) I managed to separate our vessel from hers and we both (God alone knows how) regained control of our respective charges and managed to turn them round and moor up again.

There are times when I believe in God and this was one of them. For my part I was so anxious and panicky to get back to the bank I turned Classic Safari back around to face the same way as before, completely forgetting the tide had turned and tried, in fact did, moor up with the current.  The only casualty was a little dingy which was squashed between my 10 tonnes and the 10 tonnes in front as I struggled to slow my lady down. I noticed it too late and as I backed off, amazingly, it ‘pinged’ back into shape. This is a 40 year old secret I have just let you in on ‘cos I reckon by now the owner and indeed the dingy have gone to the great broad in the sky.

And do you know what! My crew moaned because their breakfast wasn’t ready!

Now towards the second half of our week it came even to the notice of the footballphobes in our group that, as a matter of fact, England were doing pretty good and even we, along with another 20 million fellow footballphobes were getting interested. And on the night of the semi-final between England and Brazil (correct me if I’m wrong - I wasn’t that interested) Brian, Roger, Mel and I found ourselves crouched around Brian’s 6”x3” transistor radio straining our ears to hear to the crackly commentary of the crucial second half. Well, as everybody knows, ‘we’ won and made it to the final but at the time it seemed unbelievable. We were so pleased we made a cup of tea to celebrate. Actually it was not really to celebrate, it was to warm Brian up. That publicly victorious evening had come very close to being a private disaster. After about five or six days and at least 20 moorings we reckoned we had it down. We could cruise in slow, bang her in reverse hop off, grab a rope and bingo, sorted. We could even do it alone.

So what went wrong? We got cocky that’s what. That evening we found a really pretty little cutting off the main river. It was quiet, and we ‘cooled’ our way towards the bank, Brian shoved her into reverse to reduce the momentum, then cut the engine. Mel was already off at the bow with his rope. Me and Roger had already hopped off and were standing with the others letting the other half of our ‘experienced crew’ do the business. As Classic Safari glided gently towards the bank Brian hopped off at the stern and grabbed the rope. But Classic Safari wanted the last laugh, she wasn’t ready to stop just yet, Brian’s rope tensioned and he was catapulted on a graceful arc into the water and under her stern, powered by her kinetic energy.

As a matter of fact she didn’t get the last laugh. The site of Brian’s acrobatics made us fall about, but not for long. The O Shit! factor cut in and we ran to Brian’s rescue. But the site of Brian being hauled out clinging for dear life to his rope like a beached whale made us crack up some more, this time though from relief more than anything else. The one thing I can’t understand is that Brian didn’t find it funny!

So now we are nearing the end of our week, we had been to the far end of the broads ( well Wroxham maybe) and we were making our way back to Oulton Broad unscathed, the boat anyway. Any scratches that were on her were put there by someone else. I can’t remember the exact day but it was probably Thursday. Capt’n Brian was at the helm and we were on a busy stretch of river. Suddenly from out of nowhere, well a side cutting really, (I apologise if this is the wrong way to describe it) a small yacht, seemingly out of control, smacked into the starboard side of our lady. It may have been a small yacht but it was big enough to put a six inch hole in the side, just below the deck. During the confusion, of trying to stop and avoiding the other boats we lost track of the yacht. I seem to remember we did catch up with each other but for some reason, possibly because of the difficulty of manoeuvring in so much traffic we didn’t exchange paperwork or whatever we were supposed to do but I think we got the number.

All the way back to Oulton we speculated about what ‘Happy Harry’ was going to say and more to the point do. The rest of the days passed without incident and we arrived back at Hampton Boats yard on Friday evening after everybody had gone home, thank goodness. We knew we were in trouble even though it was not our fault. In order not to give our friend too much ammo we set about cleaning Classic Safari from top to bottom, stem to stern, inside and out. She was spotless. In order to keep it like that we did our packing, locked up and went out to eat and didn’t come back till late so she would stay clean.

  In the morning we went to find ‘the man wot don’t like boys’. I can’t remember his reaction really except to say he was none too pleased. He had a championship moan about not doing the paperwork but I have a sneaky feeling that he was relieved we actually brought his boat back in one piece.

After he had got over this bit of grief he set about running his microscope over the rest of the vessel. But we had out manoeuvred him, she was spotless, he couldn’t find anything wrong. He tried very hard, believe me! He even tried to invent scratches that weren’t there or at least not ours!  Sullenly, almost disappointed I reckon, he had to admit the boat was OK. I’m not sure if he gave back our deposit. I don’t think he did at least not all of it but in fairness to him, even though he doesn’t deserve it, I wouldn’t swear to it.

So that was it, we made our way along eerily quiet roads back to Bexleyheath. We arrived just in time to see the second half of ‘that match’.  Brian, Roger, Mel, Me, Dad and Kevin watched the excitement of England beating Germany to win the World Cup.

I hope you all enjoy reading this account and I hope you find the photos interesting. There are not that many but I have to say some of the boats photographed are magnificent and they were at least taken during a momentous week in British, sorry English, sporting history.

One final note, if any of you out there are related to or know or even are Happy Harry, an apology wouldn’t go amiss!

Keith Gingell 2006

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My Broads Holiday During World Cup Final Week 1966

After that we met up with our fellow matelots and went off to get some fish and chips and find a half decent pub. I think we had a good night, I can’t remember really (due to the years not alcohol!) and we got back late. When we returned we were surprised to find that the depth of moored boats had increased to three across and our boat was the meat of a very big sandwich. But we didn’t care we just laughed about it and went to bed (probably was the alcohol this time).

By Keith Gingell