Hunter Davies on his new barge

So, how is the barge?’ all my neighbours and chums and nosy beggars are asking me. Half have been saying how stupid I am at 88 to buy an 1899 Dutch barge on the Isle of Wight.

The other half are saying how wonderful, what an adventure, so romantic, oldies should not hold back on doing new things, having new experiences, at whatever age. Hear hear!

Alas, we didn’t go to it at Christmas as planned. We’ve only spent a few weeks on it so far, but all went well.

Miranda has turned it into our own little paradise. It is so romantic, lying in the bedroom – sorry, cabin – feeling the boat move up and down, which it does with the tide. Did it move for you, pet?

There was a lot of creaking, which I thought at first were my old bones, then I realised it was the old barge.

It does creak and give out strange noises, just like my old body.

Miranda’s son and three grandsons all visited and loved it. They took the kayak out, which the children adored. I haven’t tried it yet. Getting in and out of a kayak looks daunting – getting in out of a chair or bed is hard enough.

There is a crane on the barge, which we inherited, that I might use if we can’t fit a stairlift. That is the project for the spring.

Our visitors loved the heron coming to feed near the barge, and the two swans. Max, who is three, has given the leading swan a name: Derek! You what? Where did you get that from? Nobody is called Derek these days. I think he must have heard it in a storybook.

So, hurrah, no problems so far on the barge, yet there is such complicated machinery and gear and tanks and generators and sewage systems on board that I don’t really understand. I am relying on Miranda to fix them if they go wrong. She is a young woman of 78. I am just an old man of 88, or have I said that?

I haven’t had time to investigate. I have been driven mad with countless problems in my London home and been unable to get away as often as I would like. My heating, hot water, fridge and power points downstairs went off.

For decades, I have paid a fortune to British Gas for full cover – currently £740 a year – but, of course, they have managed to say the problem was probably a leak in the lavatory that went under the floorboards and into the wires, so is my responsibility. But they could sort it for £800.

Instead, I got a local handyman to work on it. So far, he has spent four hours getting the old floorboards up. He now thinks it could be mice that caused the damage, not a leak.

Sorry, didn’t mean to share all of that.

There is nothing more boring than someone twittering on about their domestic problems. I switch off when they start.

It’s almost as bad as folks going on about their health. My rule is never to talk to a younger person about my aches and pains, operations, pills and potions. They don’t want to know.

But, with the barge, it has turned out to be a brilliant talking point with all ages. Even those who feel it is dopey are fascinated, ask me about it all the time, want to see photos, and are dying to pay a visit.

There is such romance attached to life on a boat. Let’s hope I live long enough to enjoy it. Did I tell you how old I am?