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7 May, 2007

Wearing one's heart on one's...

Passing the Lancaster Canal at the weekend, I was reminded that a major class of names chosen for modern narrowboats seems to be 'Sanctuary', 'Mon Repose', 'My Life' and other variants on 'I-live-for-the-weekend'.  Is there a disproportionate link between owning a recreational narrowboat and being dissatisfied with ~71% (i.e. five-sevenths of a week) of one's daily existence?

Does anyone else find such names deeply depressing? If I loathed my routine life to the extent of advertising the fact in 15cm-high letters, I think I'd be inclined make changes now rather than begrudgingly endure the remaining ~30 years until I retire.

Maybe it's not only narrowboat owners; maybe they're only the visible ones because the 'tools' of other pastimes aren't customarily named. Perhaps if there was a tradition of naming one's car, golf trolley or hang glider, a lot more mundane misery would be apparent.

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