There comes a time as old age creeps on when you have to think about how you’re going to spend the rest of your sailing life — sans teeth and sans car. For the last forty odd years I have sailed, punted, rowed, canoed and powered the mile stretch between Twickenham and Richmond, occasionally going foreign as far as Teddington. I rarely get away to do the cruises I imagined I would. This sounds sad, but in fact it isn’t, because the important thing is to get on water no matter how and in what, and living ten minutes walk away I’m on water most days. If you have a non-sailing family the summer soon goes. There’s the family holidays — they take three weeks or so. Then there are the people who come to stay (never in winter). Add to that when the children were at school there were the open evenings, always on Friday nights. The demands of school seem to be getting worse. Recently my sailing companion had to fly down from Glasgow to Farnborough to attend a grandparents’ day — Saturday of course. He, incidentally, has built a Bolger flattie which sails very well. (Why do these posh schools have names like Gumley’s and Tiffin’s as if they were discos?) Retirement hasn’t made things easier.

I also have a habit of choosing unsuitable boats. I once had an Uffa Fox Redwing. I thought that with a 130 lb centreplate I couldn’t go wrong, but its steep deadrise made trailing and launching difficult while, being nailed clinker, couldn’t take too much punishment on the road. Next I built a replica of a Grand Banks dory. Excellent sea boats, so how could I go wrong? Easy: I didn’t have the weight of a ton of fish, and it was a pig to row in a wind. I never felt strong enough to take to the open sea, though I did fit a sail and did several cruises in it. All the same, it was a great boat. I also had an ancient leaky river launch with an awning and curtains which I eventually sold to a museum. We used to move 100 yards from our mooring, drop anchor opposite a deserted garden, and watch the moon come up as we bedded down on the floorboards — no point having a boat you can’t sleep in. We did do the Wey as far as Godalming.

Some years ago I bought a 20 ft Norwegian, deep-keeled, double-ender launch with a cuddy. I reasoned that, since I hated trailing, it would get me down to the sea; which it does, but it’s a long slog usually getting to Thurrock on one tide in late afternoon and leaving in the middle of the next morning for the estuary. I’m not keen on a night passage in the estuary. What do you do with yourself all that time on an uncomfortable mooring — I get bored. Also, with its 2 ft 6 ins keel, I don’t want to take the ground, and it means that I can’t take the back passage across the Broomway. While not being very suitable for canals and on the Thames there are three good entries into the canal system — well, it’s water isn’t it? So Solveig is up for sale.

I have taken to putting boats on car roofs, which is simpler than trailing, and the intriguing question is, how small a boat can you live in? I built a 15 ft open canoe, which is my preferred mode, but can’t paddle it all day at more than about 2.5 mph. On Ullswater this summer with a head wind I was down to 1 mph. Looking for greater range. I recently bought a 16 ft by 3 ft rowing boat (a design called a Sprite) which weighs about 50 lbs, and made a tent cover thinking I should be able to do 20 miles a day. I couldn’t, but I did get up to Cliveden, one of the loveliest stretches of the Thames, and covered 70 miles in four days. It’s easy to sleep in a boat this size; doing all the other things is the problem. The boat is not one you particularly want to stand up in, and I only had 3 ft of headroom anyway, so you move around like a dog on a rug. I’m lucky in having no joint problems — I’m reaping the benefit of skiving off school sports. But for cooking, the stove ends up between your legs, which isn’t nice — or safe — so you cook as little as possible. There is one basic meal — Cadbury’s Smash with an added bolognaise sauce (from powder). No fresh pasta. I swore, like Steve Redgrave, that I’d never do it again (and, relatively speaking, I was just as knackered) but given a bit more headroom and a bit more stability at anchor by strapping buoyancy over the side, I probably would. The Edwardians, after all, used to sleep in less. The original Nautilus sailing canoe with heavy centreboard was about 13 ft by 30 ins and decked with only a 5 ft 6 ins cockpit in which they slept under a tent with about 4 ft 6 ins headroom. I prefer, by the way, to wrap up in a duvet; I didn’t want to fall in wearing a sleeping bag but the duvet’s too big and falls over the sides and gets wet — there’s not much freeboard, which would be another problem on any open mooring. It had never happened to me before, but this time, perhaps because I was travelling faster, I kept hitting things. On one occasion I fetched up with a crunch between a wall and its moored cruiser. I have fitted a rear view mirror but I’d rather see where I’m going which brings me back to canoes.

A standard open, what used to be known as a Canadian canoe, distinct from a kayak, can be turned into a very good sailer with very simple gear — a leeboard dropped over the lee side will be held in place by water pressure. On Ullswater last year we were close reaching in a force 4/5 at 12 kph according to my GPS which admittedly is not all that reliable for bursts of speed. We had a home made sail about 30 sq ft and were sitting comfortably inside. Some fit outriggers tied on Wharram style, either one or two. Recently there have been experiments with two small floats about 4 ft long with about 30 lbs buoyancy each, which is what I have now. These only need one beam making assembly easier. On the river, where I have to paddle through moorings, I have them on an 8 ft beam, and this seems to be adequate for rivers, holding up comfortably in something like 15 mph gusts; though a 9 ft beam — which I guess would increase leverage by one eighth — would be desirable, if only to keep the floats further from the boat, since they throw spray back in. You would be very unlucky to capsize, but if you did, righting should be easy — no, I haven’t tried. The only problem is that the floats are a bit vulnerable on slipways, or where you’re knocking up against other craft. I recently wrapped one around a buoy, which didn’t do the float any good.

Despite the Edwardian precedents I think 36” beam is the minimum for sleeping in, and I’m now looking for a folding canoe — something like a Klepper Aerius would be nice, if I could afford it. I shall probably have to make one. I can then sail off into the sunset.