I’ve been very nostalgic lately. I have often found myself staring out of the window and dreaming of ‘the good ol’ times.’ To me this was on our family boat in Thailand. I loved boat days. I would wake up bright and early and my mum would always be in the kitchen, chopping, preparing, marinating and doing other mum stuff. I would shuffle into the kitchen to some cheesy 80’s song that my mum had playing, give my dad a kiss good morning and run over to help mum prepare. Our days on the boat were not small affairs. Mum and Dad would always bring enough food and drink for an army, and did so in military precision. They had everything planned out perfectly, from the arranging of everything in the cool boxes to shoving everything and everyone in the car and getting there bang on time…Well mostly on time! Once we were on the boat, Dad would plug in his iPod and we would crack open a bottle of fizz and hand out bucks fizz to everyone! The dogs would run up the boat to their favourite spot and we would all get sat down and slathered in sun cream. After Jaroon the captain had found a suitable spot, we would drop anchor and get our rods out for an hour or so of fishing. Some days were good and we caught fish big enough to descale, gut and throw on the BBQ later on. Others the only thing we caught were coral! Mum is a keen fisherwoman and would sit there for hours with Jaroon, with her fishing rod in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. But dad and the rest of us usually had other ideas. We would dive into the ocean of the top of the boat, and snorkel round the boat with the dogs at our sides. I always made sure to have a cheeky pull on mums fishing line, watching her face when she thought she had caught something was priceless! Then it was time to let out our inner thrill seekers and show off out wake boarding skills. Some of us would try to show off more than others…And it usually ended badly. The ringo was always fun though.
By this time everyones tummies were starting to rumble and the dogs were often dying to stretch their legs on dry land. So we’d fire up the engine and set off in search of a beach to park our bottoms on.This was our magic beach. The tide would swallow it up at nights and in the morning so that in the afternoon the sand was fresh and had no footprints and I always felt like I was the first one to find that beach.We would all pile into the sea and line up, passing along boxes of food, drinks, towels, and anything else we would need on our private beach for the next few hours.
The rest of the day would be spent sipping on cocktails, eating, laughing a dancing to Dads ‘boat songs.’ Think Golden Brown, Mr Blue Sky and Land Down Under!