98. To the Cruising Community

I’ve never really liked having neighbours. Maybe it has something to do with me never really having a need to feel at home anywhere. Or maybe it’s the other way around, maybe I’ve felt an urgent need to move on once I’ve been exposed to what came with the neighbourhood. I’ve never really bought the concept that you should share interests or indeed values with someone just because you live next to them. It’s different with colleagues. I wouldn’t have stayed with the same employer for over thirty years if I didn’t feel that a bunch of our values and interests aligned. And as I progressed in the company I was lucky enough to be a part of selecting who some of my new colleagues would be. The only thing I feel I’ve shared with my neighbours has been an interest in preserving the value of our properties. Something that make people sign petitions designed to keep riff-raff out, preserve a panoramic view that they don’t own or ask for services like schools in the area as long as they are not too close. And whenever one of my neighbours made an attempt to ‘get closer’ it fell flat on its face. Mainly because we were close enough already. I’ll give you an example.

Shortly after I moved from London to Stockholm in the 90’s I bought a townhouse at the end of a cul de sac together with my Irish wife at the time, Orla. We lived there happily for seven years and our little family expanded with our first born. I don’t remember it as a particularly close knit neighbourhood but once a year a crayfish party was arranged and a long table was set up on the road outside. For those that have not attended a Swedish crayfish party I can inform you that usually it results in everyone eating far too little and drinking way too much. All while singing silly drinking songs. Towards the end of the evening a well-oiled neighbour started to ask me a bunch of questions. Questions that with time started to get more and more specific or personal if you like. ‘Where do you travel to when you leave every week, what does Orla do when you are away and do you bring back gifts?’ Despite her obvious intoxication she noticed that the rest of the table started to get quiet as others started to take an interest in our conversation and probably wondered where this was going. At this time she felt that she needed to explain her interest in me and my wife and told the whole neighbourhood that they (her and her husband) often role played that they were us. By which time anyone around the table that had any other discussion before now was all ears. I remember Orla (who at the time had limited Swedish) looked at me and said something like ‘am I hearing what I think I am’ only to be met by twenty odd heads around the table nodding in silent agreement. This did not stop the lady from explaining that she used to send off her husband in his best suit and briefcase only to return a few minutes later from an imaginary trip to some exotic place and find her baking in the kitchen. All while greeting him in English and God knows what else. This is when we stopped the conversation and decided to end the arrangement with their daughter as our son’s babysitter and started to look for house listings.

So, where am I going with this? Am I just losing it after spending two rainy days inside a small boat? Or is it that I’m exercising my right to post any stupid thoughts just because I am my own editor? Maybe, but my point is that I want to praise my new neighbours. The cruising community. People that I share an obvious interest with. People that are always guests, wherever they go, and act accordingly. People that are generous, open minded, seekers, non-judgemental, adventurers, interested in other cultures and care about the environment and others. People from all over the world, that seem less scared of everything, that always come running when you need help and that are less quick to categorise others. You know who you are and you are all fabulous. You mean the world to someone who is often way too social to be a solo sailor. Thank you.

And just a final thought. Maybe I was too judgemental with my intoxicated neighbour. What’s really wrong with pretending you are someone else in an effort to spice things up a little? And who am I to feel uncomfortable with someone pretending to be me? I should be flattered really. Shame on me, I consider myself to be open minded. She could have spared me some of the details though…