Diary – 9 September 2005

With my wife’s consent, I have just become the lover of a handsome 57-year-old lady. She has a fine round bottom and a comfortable beam. I sought expert advice before embarking on the affair. Ian Burgoyne, marine surveyor, tapped her all over with a little hammer and probed her most intimate parts with a spike. He pronounced her in good condition for her age. Her knees were sound and her hog was free of wet rot, which was evidently a good thing. Mr Burgoyne’s only concern was five slightly cracked frames on the port side. Not knowing exactly what these were, I studied his recommended treatment: ‘The plank sea could be fitted with a seam batten and the frames doubled using oak timbers that are secured to the original frames as well as the hull timbers.’ Ah. If only the human frame could be so readily rejuvenated. I wrote the cheque.

Deglet Nour was built in 1948 by Geo. Wilson & Sons of Sunbury-on-Thames. She is a 30ft three-berth cruiser. The only bit of her that is not oak, iroko, mahogany or brass is a vile plastic commode called a Porta Potti, concealed in the heads. We try not to use it. The three-cylinder diesel engine is called Perkins, but why the boat itself is named Deglet Nour is a bit of a mystery. A clue is to be found on the label of a box of Eat Me dates: ‘The favourite delicious Deglet Nour dates,’ it says. Perhaps the first owner was an importer of dried fruits, like Mr Eugenides in The Waste Land, the Smyrna merchant ‘with a pocket full of currants c.i.f. London’. (The letters, as I remember from my brief spell as a merchant banker, stand for cost, insurance and freight.) Mr Eugenides or a later owner neglected the vessel shamefully.