Past experience for my family of eight has proven that distance is a far greater challenge than it ought to be when it comes to holidays. Therefore, one January my mother had the fateful idea of hiring a canal boat and travelling the mere distance of 40 miles from our hometown in Edinburgh to the city of Glasgow. I, being away at university and no longer an "official family member", was given a choice as to whether to go. Student life had been treating me hard and I wanted to re-establish my status within the hierarchy of our family tree. So eagerly I said yes and the following week we set off.
It was picturesque. The canal resembled a waterway for the Gods with the sun reflecting off each ripple. My father stood at the helm, dictating to us the direction in which we headed despite the canal being straight with little to no bends. I could hear my mother’s sigh of content as she realised we were that family; the family you wished to be on holiday, with the children dangling off the boat yelling profanities at passing swans and the father who revved the engine at the oblivious passersby. My mother sat peaceful, reading her Ian Rankin novel at the bow of the boat, a coffee in one hand. As she listened to her children’s cries, the sun slowly shone on everything that is right in this world.
Sadly, the cries became a little too authentic after, a mere two hours into our journey, my youngest brother, with a slip of the hand and a cry of despair, was submerged by the dirty canal water. My mother’s courageous attempt to save him, stripping off layer upon layer of January clothing was thwarted by my father’s shout that he "could handle it". My father, being a practical man, proceeded to poke my crying brother with a fishing rod for the next half hour, begging him to come aboard. By the time a "family effort" had coaxed the little boy onto dry land, my poor little brother had gotten a dreadful cold and potentially cholera.
And just like that it was over. With my brother’s fall something had broken; the illusion of a "dream holiday" had been shattered in that one moment and an unanimous sick awakening came over us. Perhaps it was that we realised we were stuck on a thirty-two-foot boat with no escape for the next week. But I think deep down it was the sinking feeling that, yet again, this holiday was going to be as unsuccessful as every other.
It was with great relief that we pulled into Glasgow on the third evening and we aborted the boat. The great city at least offered us solace and space to breathe during the day. The older children went off to explore Glasgow’s delights. Its sights were explored by my mother, and my father took the younger ones to see the museums. Each person returned with a more elaborate story than the other and that night a discussion ensued over who had had the "most fun".
We woke the next morning to the cold hard fact that my little brother, with his painful cold, needed a night in a "proper bed". So, we caught the five o’clock train from Glasgow Central Station and were back in Edinburgh by teatime. Once again at our starting point, I began reevaluating the concept of a holiday. It seemed travelling short distances posed an even bigger threat to my family's relationships. My father proposed that we spend one night at home and return to Glasgow (and our boat) the next day. There were no disputes. We spent one splendid night in the comfort of our own beds.
The final part of the week remains a blur and one I wish not to decipher. In short, we returned to Glasgow, my other brother took a "swim" in the canal, we did a hit and run on a duck, the boat broke down, and we finished the week off with an argument over deposits. However, the worst part came a week later; we had all about recovered from the trip when my mother with a longing look recalled how successful the holiday had been. I groaned, not a critical comment on our journey, but instead on my family. Indeed, I will never again go on holiday in a confined space nor would I recommend it, but you may be unlike myself and perhaps an adventure awaits you on the canal from Edinburgh to Glasgow. As for me, my "unofficial family member" status seems a little more appealing.