These roller coaster emotions are flip-flopping my stomach. We have three boats on the final list. Each day we have definitely made up our minds on one . . . until we think of something else, re-check, re-view photos and change our minds – again.

Brokers with lax responses to our questions cause worms of doubts – it’s possible yesterday’s favourite is no longer the favourite AND vendors may have lost the sale, due to their broker.

The current favourite has only changed once today. After more research and number crunching we have settled on THE boat, I think . . maybe. . perhaps . .  Once the ‘final’ decision was made, we were both excited . . .  now I’m worrying ‘have we made the right choice?’  . . .  too much time to think . . . too many boats . . . that much older/knowledgeable (not always a good thing!) . . . so the flip-flops in my stomach are off again, but I do think it is a bit more excitement-flipflops than anything else.

Oh, and which boat is it? . . . sorry, you’ll have to wait, we are sorting out the finer points and I don’t want to let on just yet in case it all goes ar*e up! (or we change our minds!) Flipflopflipflop. . .

Lead picture, out with friends on the canals on a rainy day . . .  (l to r: Den, Jackie, ‘Tash)

More calming Tulip pics . . .

Okay, things aren’t so bad . . .  it is a beautiful spring here (mostly!), we have lovely friends looking after us and lending us their campervan (and laughing at our attempts to speak Dutch)!

We have our health, a ‘little’ wealth (well, money to buy a home – we don’t own a house at the moment!). We’re enjoying the simple stuff, we’ve just bought two bikes (two old clunkers) so we can cycle to the shops on the incredible bike-ways the Netherlands have (cars give way to bikes as they LEAVE a round-about in some places! – just try that in the UK and see what happens!).

So, life ain’t too bad.

We laugh most days (mostly at ourselves) and each day we know we are closer to finding our home.

We’ve got what it takes to find our boat, but I think it’ll take everything we’ve got – meanwhile we do enjoy life . . . we are not sure which direction we are going next, but we are on our way.

Here’s to life!

We’ve sorted out what licences we need and how to get them; we’ve transferred money from Aus to Europe (yikes!), we have sorted out visa requirements and even the VAT implications in buying a boat – all we need now is a bloody boat!

One more week searching in Holland then – watch out France – here we come (and Belgium in between!)

Meanwhile, we just love Holland in Spring . . .

We are supposed to be searching for barges, so why do sailboats keep catching our eyes? Then last night we discussed our next sailboat. SAILBOAT! I haven’t even done the barge thing yet . . . oh dear! Please remind me NOT to agree to ANYTHING when I have had a glass of wine!

Today we sat in MacDonalds, for hours, over one cup of coffee, just to use the internet – well we did end up have a sandwich (and indigestion!).
Searching searching, searching, barges too dear, too dilapidated. Boats with just one cabin arouse mutters of, ‘well, sod the visitors.’ New boats come on the market are in Belgium or France.

Hmmmm now, there’s a thought, France. I love France. I’ve been run-over in France (not the reason I like it), but when I was lying on the road in the middle of Paris and while the entire traffic network ground to a halt, a tall dark gentleman (who was a bit like Charles Aznavour) scooped down and picked me up.
‘Madam, you ‘ave come all this way to my country, and look what we do to you . . . you fell through the air like a ballerina . . .’
I was GONE . . . bicycles, traffic and husband forgotten.
LUCKILY(!), Noel elbowed me from Charles’ clutches just in the nick of time!
It’s all detailed in our next book, Of Foreign Build, which is in edit mode at the moment. With our road tour around Holland, I am finding the time to edit the pages.
Of Foreign Build is about our time together on Mariah, sailing the world, but with a focus on my life. How (after a heart wrenching bereavement), I changed from not knowing one end of the boat from the other, to becoming a professional skipper and a maritime teacher. I can’t believe how much I’ve changed. Not just grey hairs, wrinkles and middle-aged spread, but my values, morals and outlook on life too.

I read parts of the book to Noel as he is driving – we both laugh a lot and sometimes we cry. It’s been a work in progress for many many years, it’s deeply personal, and I am becoming rather proud of it. It should be available later this year.
Now April is galloping along and May is on the horizon. Boats are being shaken from their winter hibernation and prices are starting to hold firmer. Yikes.
‘The thing to do is not to panic,’ I said.
‘That’s a good idea’ said Noel, ‘someone’s got to hold my hand.’
Back in Australia we had started with a generous boat budget. We ‘watched’ boats advertised for sale on the internet that were all decked out, looking supreme and complete. We have now, realistically, reduced our desired out-goings and started to think ‘well just a little paint.’ By the time we close on a deal I have the feeling we shall be inheriting a bucket of bolts with a wind up propulsion system.

We have gone from, ‘Arhhhh, this is nice dear, travelling through Holland looking at boats, everything is very pretty isn’t it?’
To, ‘Just where the ferk is this bloody turnoff? That bloody boat was a heap of shite, and look at this, another bloody suicide bloody wanker on a push-bike demanding right of bloody way on a bloody ferking round-a-bout!’
We’ve read every boat advert in Europe. Now, when I find an interesting boat with just ONE picture , I just can’t help writing, ‘Why are you advertising a boat to sell without pictures?’ then I wonder why they don’t write back. I am sure the entire contingent of Dutch yacht brokers has us on their ‘unwanted’ list. However, I am keeping my husband happy.
‘I’ll do dinner,’ says Noel.
‘Okay, while you do that, I’ll see if this broker can drum up more than one fuzzy, low pixelated, waste of time photo,’ says I.
‘That’s my girl, as long as you are abusing someone else and not me!’

I tell you, the wine cellar is being depleted at rather an alarming rate. And that’s before breakfast.

The Dutch are very forgiving at our ‘steady’ speed in the campervan and we have had only one horn blowing, arm shacking incident. Well we did nearly cut him in half. Noel had trouble differentiating between the wiper and blinker toggle, it was raining off and on, the other road user thought we were going port when in actual fact (had he of cared to look and listen) our Tom-Tom was broadcasting a rather urgent shriek for starboard. Streuth!
On a positive note, trying to learn the lingo is a great way to clear any gunk from the back of your throat.
As we keep saying, ‘It’s all very Dutch!’
. . . oh, and we’ve just put an offer in on a boat!! . . .

I’ve just read an article from the Telegraph, no less, about the classic signs of having a mid-life crisis, all forty of them (signs, not crises). I can relate to just two; worse hangovers that last longer and dreading calls at unexpected times from your parents (fearing the worst).

I’m not one for revealing intimate details of my life, but with a recent occurrence (and eye-opener) for me, I wanted to share my experience with MAE (MAE – Middle-Aged Existence is my term for a baby mid-life crisis) and hopefully this will help others.

I’ve been feeling a bit wobbly for some time and not because I’ve eaten too much chocolate recently (even though I have). I’m lost while knowing where I am. With exciting events occurring in my life, I should feel happier, more content, at ease. However, I’m trying to balance a million different emotions, I feel itchy, uncomfortable and some of the time, incredibly sad. The uncomfortable feelings are like having a really intense itch under your skin, so much so that it almost hurts and I can’t ease it in any way. The depth of sadness is an emotion I rarely encounter.

Controlling my emotions is like trying to control ripples. Life is like ripples, events in your life, one after another relentlessly running away; you can’t stop them, you can’t grip them. It’s also like time, there’s no way to slow it down.

I thought it all stemmed from leaving behind our five beautiful boys, our horses who we’ve bonded with fiercely on a recent adventure together. When we left Australia I felt like I was going through a bereavement. I still can’t think about them without becoming teary as I miss them so much. Visiting my family after six years was exciting, but I felt indifferent about going to England – just what was going on? None of it makes sense.

Noel has been fantastic through all this, especially during the last two weeks of living in a rather tiny campervan with an emotional wife. He has actually saved my life – again. He has already saved it once when I suffered a true bereavement and at a time when I didn’t much like this world any more.

The other night, we were sitting have a beer and talking about stuff. We like nattering, after 16 years of marriage; we still find plenty to talk about. The subject turned to my emotions, a friend’s dog had recently been put down and the subject of horses came up again, and there I was crying – again.

After saying (for the umpteenth time), ‘what’s wrong with me, I have to toughen up.’ Noel said, ‘Your 43, you are coming to terms with your mortality.’
‘Just brilliant! I’m having a mid-life crisis!’ I sobbed.

Noel laughs at this point. So do I. It’s not a sane laugh from me, rather a slightly-boarding mad guffaw. Noel laughs, not through spite but to help me, to ease the tension.

‘You have to be gentle with yourself; don’t make any big decisions at the moment.’
‘What, like buying land in Australia and buying a boat in Holland,’ says I, because that is exactly what we are right in the middle of!
We laugh again. I cry again, but this time with relief. I now know what is wrong with me. I am an emotional person and extremely sensitive. However, I am strong, tough and tenacious too. These intense emotions are way over the top and a little crippling.

Noel tells me he experienced something similar when he was in his forties. ‘Then you came along, you saved my life, I’m here to do the same for you.’ This all sounds a bit melodramatic, but it also rings true. It makes sense. And this was our exact conversation. He adds, ‘these emotions can be dangerous if handled wrongly.’ This was a sobering thought.

Now, my twisted gut feels slightly smoother, my fingers tingle as if something tense is flowing out, away from me. I feel lighter. I tell Noel this and he laughs, ‘whatever you’re drinking, I’ll have some.’

The following day I still feel better. My emotions are still shot, but I know WHY, I know it will end. I’ve read that a mid-life crisis can hang around for years(!), I am hoping my baby version, MAE, skips town a bit sooner than that. I am just lucky (and incredibly grateful) I have Noel to carry me through.

As a complete non-expert, here’s some tips that work for me:

• Find yourself a friend who becomes your light.
• Turn towards light, step away from the darkness in every aspect of your life.
• Remember it’s like being in a storm at sea, you can’t do anything about it, you just have to ride it out. But you know it will end and you will get through it.
• Remember to be kind to yourself.
• Help yourself. If there’s an emergency on a plane, you help yourself first by putting on the oxygen mask BEFORE you help others – that is what you have to do now.
• Be a little selfish, but not greedy.
• You have to love you.

. . . . oh, and there is a possible boat on the horizon . . . details to follow 

Our boat HAS to be here somewhere. There are so many and we still haven’t found IT!
We were about to put in an offer on one we saw yesterday, but decided to do another thorough viewing first. It turns out there is some asbestos on the exhaust. The engine room part has new lagging, but there is some old lagging (asbestos) on the rest of the exhaust. We are trying to research the cost to have it removed/replaced and think about whether we want the bother . . . but we like the boat. Well, this boat has fewest compromises. We should be more excited than this! Perhaps MAE is the problem (my term for my mid-life crises, known as Middle-Aged Existence!)

The campsites are keeping us on our toes. Infrequent internet (grrrrrr) and cold showers! Tonight’s campsite in Enschede is very nice and the most expensive so far. However, it is still cheaper than a hotel, so one must not complain. I do have to mention the showers here though, they are hot, very hot and you can’t turn them down. I had to put each limb in one at a time, in a sort of naked dance, ‘put your left hand in, put your left hand out, in out, in out’ . . . well you get the idea. After I had acclimatised my red limbs, I elegantly skidded under the shower to scald my skull. The floor does not have any non-slip material and it’s quite a feat of achievement to stay upright. The lights come on automatically and are nice and soft. The radio is on and as I lather up, concentrating on keeping my feet under me, the music blares and a techno tune pumps into the cubical (is it still called Techno?) Anyhow, the music is hot, the shower is hot and I with my feet slipping in jerky movements, start slipping and sliding to the beat – now I think I am hot! It’s the funkiest shower I’ve ever had, well you had to be there . . . well, maybe not . . .

So, that was a nice little interlude of fun. Well, we are having fun, but we are a little dispirited with the lack of excitement with boats. Maybe we don’t have the right budget, but we are determined to stick with it. As one old friend said (old as in long time, not old as in old-git – right Foggy?): ‘you picked Holland for a reason, you just haven’t found it yet.’ This advice (and others similar) has been taken on board (pun fully intended) and we shall lift our game.

I have to lift my game in another area, techno dancing in showers and endless boats aside I think I am having mid-life crises. I’ve elected to call my particular crises MAE – Middle-Aged Existence, as I only have a couple of symptoms. More on that soon.

They talk differently here in Friesland, even our friends in Petten have trouble understanding the accent, what chance have we? Noel is a good mimic and is often heard muttering to himself, ‘Swartzsluis, near heligeen, near, hurdy gurdy, next to down town snikker likker!’ It must make him feel better . . . and the horses, oh the Friesland horses . . .

Canal boats don’t give you much for your buck. We’ve purchased two sailboats at different times, from different countries, that were different sizes – they were cheaper in relative comparison AND they could take us anywhere in the world (and did!). To us the pricing seems out of balance, but it would, as we are the ones digging in to our pockets! (And converting Aussie dollars to Euros).

We awake each morning with fresh excitement, is this the day we find our boat?, our home? We’ve not had our own home for ten months now. With sleepy eyes, I open up our emails to see what’s occurring in the world and this particular morning a strange email opens:
‘Your bid for the Valkruiser of $ . . . . Has not been accepted, keep trying!’
Noel looks a little sheepish when I question him. But the bid wasn’t huge – no harm in trying.
The next day, another email:
‘You can come to view the ferry this afternoon’ . . . . ferry? FERRY? I know I said I wanted more room, but a ferry?! My thoughts tune to TV channel blockers, one for boats, bidding and possibly ferries; one which has a maturity level perhaps.

Meanwhile, my maturity levels have gone the other way. Asking for our campsite address, so I could receive some mail, the office said, ‘as long as you are not mailing cocaine.’ Goodness, I thought, do I look like a druggy? I told Noel and worried about it for a day. We left the next day, not worrying about mail. ‘Now he must really think we are drug pushers!’
Back with friends in Petten, I told them the story. Their pitiful look was a little unnerving.
‘That’s the Dutch humour,’ says Den.
My scrambled brain and silliness then grabbed me by the throat and I nearly wet myself laughing. The guy in the campsite office was so straight faced, I thought he was serious. Oh dear, it’s time to lighten up!

So, we are back in Petten with our lovely friends. We’ve blown two fuses on the campervan, we need a break from boats and it’s time to re-group. We’ve given ourselves a week to make a decision on a boat. There are two ‘possibles’. We have eight more boats we’d like to see (and the list is growing) . . . then it will be time to take the plunge.

This week’s motto: Keep an eye on Noel’s antics and lighten up.

We’ve found something the Dutch AREN’T good at – it’s a real coup.
But first, BOATS. Today we saw two boats. We talked ourselves into buying both and then talked ourselves out of buying both. The first had a teak deck (gasp!), one of our major turn-offs (just WHAT is going on under there?). However, the rest of the boat was lovely – just lovely; a neat layout (2 cabins), dinette, separate toilet (not in the galley!) – BUT it also had a, questionable, depth of 1.25 metres. The teak looked in great nick and the vendor is open to negotiation including removing the teak and fixing problems . . . tempting. BUT (again), the depth would prohibit reaching some out-of-the-way places. Tonight, tucked between smart houses and neatly sliced reeds, we consumed a swift half, while small boats clinked in the evening light. It’s here we want to explore by boat, a 1.25 draft will stop us seeking out these places.
The second boat is strong, quite nice looking, good engine, but the layout . . . . on one side is the galley, right opposite is the toilet. The vendor thought us mad when we said we didn’t like it – but we just don’t. There are some ‘adjustments’ we could make to improve the situation, but the price does not reflect these. The electrics need replacing/updating and the engine is a little bit more thirsty than we’d like.
Both boats were the best we’ve seen so far.
Tonight, on internet, we’ve found more to view. The photos/layout/description stirs our travelling juices once again; let’s hope the pictures reflect reality.
Anyhow, back to the point. Tonight, walking in, what only can be described as a ‘boutique’ town (without the ‘boutique’ snobbish-ness . . . . ‘it’s just how we live’), we started to find the prettiness, beauty and stillness of the village almost irritating. Not because it was irritating, but because it is so damn pleasant-everywhere. The Dutch are a smart race, they make good boats, and they have great ideas. Where, in England, we worry about rising damp, here they are building ON the water and wonder what all the fuss is about . . . . Sooooo, the point, arrrhhh, the point, the point being (at last!) we have found something the Dutch aren’t good at . . . cocktail sticks, they are no good at cocktail sticks-they are blunt . . . . stabbing our olives became a trifle annoying, but, I suppose, it did slow us down. Pathetically, we are comforted by this! Tomorrow more boats . . . and more damn amazing scenery . . .sigh . . . Becoming patient is becoming easier, we are having far too much fun!

We’re in the nitty gritty of Holland within the nitty gritty of boats.
Tall ones, short ones, long, fat, thin, smelly, smart, expensive and cheap – boats glorious boats.
It sounds ideal, driving around Holland in a loaned camper van (we have great friends here) and viewing boats, but, to be honest, it is better than ideal!
Spring continues to put on a good show for us in Europe with clear skies, sunny days and cool nights. Holland is green, flat and neat. The Dutch couldn’t make an ugly house if they tried.
After buying boats in Australia and San Francisco, it is interesting to see how the brokers in Holland differ. They don’t. There must be an international brokerage school they all go to. When we comment on a defect they talk around it, if they have no answer they become suspiciously quiet. They hear what they want to hear and show us boats they think we should buy.
“Don’t look at the price.” One said as if it bore no relevance; then proceeded to show us boats twice our maximum budget . . . wasting everyone’s time.
“It’s very different to sailing.” Another says, when we explain we have sailed. He doesn’t listen to our further explanation of living on board our first boat for nine years, which was 34’ without a fridge and we traversed many canals (including France) on this wonderful boat.
It’s useful allowing brokers to assume we are ignorant, some tend to talk themselves in circles, revealing more than they’d like.
But not all the brokers are this way. The brokers that showed us boats this morning are quiet and gentle. They let us peruse without pushing the hard sell – which is the worst thing to do to us, indeed it would put us off most boats. The boats we are viewing at the moment do not have thick, new paintwork which has almost been poured on, ‘trying’ to hide problems. The problems are on display, as they should be (well, we hope).
What we want: A good sized boat for two with two cabins for occasional visitors to have their own space and a well maintained boat with one engine that is big enough to push us along nicely, but not too big. Additional sails would be nice (small mast to lower) – but they seem few and far between. A wheelhouse is necessary- it is cold here sometimes!
What we don’t want: Teak decks, rust, ugly (we will need to re-sell it), toilet in the galley (and there’s a few, what were they thinking!), a diesel-eater (not heater, which is what we do want!) but we are on a budget.
Type: Whatever fits the above – we’re viewing all sorts to help with research and hopefully feel that little flip flop of excitement when we find the right one. We learn something new on every boat.
Keep it simple is our motto, which we did on Mariah and so far they were our best days (years) on board.
We’ve been here less than a week: our other motto we try to follow, is : patience.