Thursday, 11 April 2013
Fergus with his dads old toy boat.So my first love of boats or at least a specific boat (because I was already in the habit at around 7 yrs old to spend as long as was allowed in any news agents to goggle at the classic boat magazine) began when on holiday some place I can not remember, where I spotted this toy and by some mirical got my hands on it. Picture above is of my son Fergus who on Sunday discovered the forgotten toy in the house of my parents while on a short holiday catching up with relatives and friends. Fergus it appears is suffering very similar symptoms I had with said boat, practically cuddling it for extended lengths of time and wanting to exhibit it to anyone interested or not. Poor boy, just like his dad. After nagotiating with granny to take possession of the wee vessel he has been proud as punch at the prospects of this tiny floating dream, imagining its floatings and telling us from the back of the car how good a boat it is, such conviction of its success afloat without ever having seen it on water. The imagination is a powerful thing. Having been reminded by my dad just how he witnessed the hitmatising effects this toy had on me it is funny to see my own son fixed on it with so much admiration. A mans lot, wee or not is his world and no one can take it away. For me it appears that comparing this wee boat to chuckle is like seeing dreams come true. Wow, it is true if you can dream it and hold on long enough (in my case 30 years) dreams do come true.