Drifting Home

A short journey on our narrowboat, and the unexpected feeling of coming home to ourselves

Hey Friends,

Just a quick, sunny note today to let you know we have a new video over on our YouTube channel—a gentle cruise through the English countryside in the heart of summer.

We really hope you enjoy this slow, winding journey as we drift through beautiful scenery and moor up beside a quiet meadow in what feels like the middle of nowhere. It's peaceful, quiet, and filled with those small, good moments—perfect to have on while you potter around, make a cup of tea, or catch up on a few chores with us chuntering along in the background.

Truthfully, for us, this felt like more than just a regular trip. It’s the first proper cruise we've taken since Joe arrived, and it’s strange, in a lovely way, revisiting places we last passed through about three years ago. There’s something tender about it—a feeling of picking up an old thread.

We first came to boat life because we were craving something simpler, slower, more purposeful, and the nomadic rhythm of it called to us. We travelled from London, up the Grand Union, and eventually, onto the Oxford. Getting nowhere fast and stumbling across villages, country pubs, and making friends along the way.

Gabby on our previous boat, Flora, back in 2021 and the reality of narrowboat living in winter - Mud!

At that time, I’d just been made redundant, and boat life gave me something meaningful—a new pace, a fresh start, and a daily rhythm that felt purposeful. I rediscovered my zest for life through the simple routine of travelling, mooring up, and dealing with all the other quirks of boat life. It suited me. It still does.

That last time we cruisd this stretch - back in 2021. My hair is still as shabby.

A few years ago, we set ourselves the challenge of building our current boat. We bought her as an empty shell and have been slowly renovating the interior from scratch. It was a slightly harebrained project given our limited DIY experience, and one that still feels overwhelming when I look at the to-do list... But I am proud of what we've managed so far. Our home, built by our own hands— a little rustic around the edges, but each mistake has taught us something new. We’re not after off-the-shelf perfection, but a home full of character, with gentle reminders of the skills we’ve picked up along the way.

Delivery day for our narrowboat, and the start of the project to turn her into a home

While we got things into shape, we decided to put down roots (or anchor) and took on a permanent mooring—partly to ease the pressure of constantly moving (as our licence requires), but also to give ourselves some breathing space. Then, along came Joe. A slightly unscripted chapter, and one that naturally shifted all our priorities. I’m endlessly grateful we had our mooring as a steady base while we found our feet as a family on the water.

That isn’t to say we don’t miss travelling, and this short trip has been such a joy—honestly, quite emotional too. It’s felt like meeting old versions of ourselves along the way. Those days when we were a little more carefree... Mooring up in the middle of nowhere, having a quick "pits and bits wash" if our water tank was low rather than a full shower, cobbling meals together from whatever we had on board, and having just one more pint in the pub before walking six meadows home by torchlight. And while that chapter has passed, it’s natural, I think, to feel nostalgic for what once was.

The view from our moooo-ring.

We occasionally get messages asking why we don’t move the boat more often. One person even unsubscribed because we “just live in a corridor now.” And, well… fair enough. But this is the life that works for us. Now that Joe’s a bit bigger, we hope to pootle while the weather’s fine—nothing too ambitious, just a few miles from home—before returning to our mooring as we drift into autumn. Even though it's a short trip, it still feels like a grand adventure—and that truly is the joy of this lifestyle.

I hadn’t meant to write so much. This was supposed to be a brief note about the new video but instead turned into something a bit more reflective. But that’s what I hope this space can be—a place for honest thoughts, gentle moments, scribbles from the hedgerow, kitchen notes, and the little joys that make up our slower, slightly more wafty life on the water.

Here’s the video again if you’d like to watch. I’ve also got a recipe I’m excited to share — I’ll try to get that over to you by the weekend or early next week.

ttfn,

Jack x