Page 5 of A New Life in Amsterdam

For someone who has spontaneously sent a sales enquiry to a company advertising on the internet, my inbox is remarkably quiet.

I thought companies were only too keen to get sales enquiries, and I am surprised I am not already on their database.

I am on edge each time my email pings, which is frequently, since I have been automatically subscribed to newsletters every darn time I have bought anything online.

At least I manage a productive morning when I unsubscribe from four clothing companies that I don’t remember subscribing to.

Another email pings into my inbox, clearly from some other database that I didn’t know I was on.

Appalled, I press delete and shout at the computer that I really don’t need an over-fifties funeral plan!

The cheek of these companies once you turn fifty.

I am not quite ready to pop my clogs. Talking of clogs makes me think of Amsterdam again.

I am starting to get impatient and decide to call the company selling the houseboat.

Even as I dial the number, I tell myself this idea is absolutely ludicrous, but I still can’t help myself.

The sensible part of me is almost fearful of what I will come out with on the phone.

With this level of overexcitement, I am going to be handing over my credit card details to some random person.

I curse myself for not having more self-restraint.

Anyway, I find myself disappointed when I am transferred to a recorded message. That is when I remember what day it is: Sunday. Of course! That’s why I haven’t heard anything. In my eagerness, it completely slipped my mind that it is the weekend.

Fortunately for me, the internet is available all day, every day, and so I start searching online to see what else is out there.

Now that the idea is in my head, I want to learn everything I can about life on board a houseboat.

I look at some of the sales listings but they are all way beyond my budget.

I start to lose hope of fulfilling this dream, but when I find the blog of someone who sold up everything and moved to a houseboat in Brecon, I can’t stop reading about her experience.

She’s a single woman, like me, although a bit younger.

I read her words as she describes waking up on the canal with the sound of birds for company.

‘I should have done it years ago. Living on a houseboat in Brecon is pure heaven,’ she writes.

I have always liked Brecon, and it would be a lovely place to live, with a great theatre and all those lovely country pubs, but I am looking for a completely new start.

I can easily drive there in half an hour.

What sort of adventure would that be? I quite like the idea of going somewhere further away and now I am consumed with the idea of Amsterdam.

I look at the photos of the blogger’s bright green houseboat.

She has a silver watering can on the front of the boat, filled with sunflowers.

The houseboat windows are decorated with pretty little nets and there is an abundance of leafy green plants on the roof.

She even has hanging baskets. It really is a home from home and I can see why her lifestyle feels so heavenly to her.

I consider commenting on the blog and asking her lots of questions.

I would love to know all the practical things, like whether it is safe to live on a barge, or if you could drown in the middle of the night while fast asleep.

However, before I can start racking up my questions, I am surprised to hear my phone ring. Hannah isn’t due to call today so I hope everything’s okay. I notice that the number calling is from overseas but it’s not an Australian dialling code.

‘Goedemorgen,’ says the voice.

‘Hi, sorry, English?’

‘Yes, of course. Good morning, you called the office? I’m Gerrit from the makelaar, umm, the agency.’

‘Oh, yes. I was expecting an email. I didn’t realise you’d actually call.’

‘We’re closed today, but I went into the office to collect something and could see we had missed a call. I thought I’d call you back. How can I help you?’

His Dutch accent makes me picture Amsterdam as he speaks.

I clear my throat and explain about the enquiry I sent.

‘Ah, let me see which houseboat you’re talking about. They sell very fast.’

As Gerrit does his search and remains silent down the phone, I am full of adrenaline.

What if it’s no longer available? My heart sinks at the thought of that beautiful boat having been sold and I decide that if it’s still for sale then I am going to take a leap of faith and go for it.

How bad a purchase can it be if they sell that fast?

It already sounds more like an investment than one of my silly purchases.

This could be like shares, or bonds. It is technically property, after all, and that is always a wise investment. It could double in price in no time…

‘Ah, I see your enquiry now. It is the Nordic thirty-six-foot one, right?’

‘Yes, yes, that’s the one. Please tell me it hasn’t been sold.’

‘Ah, I’m sorry. It’s gone. It was a beautiful barge.’

I sink back in my computer chair in disappointment. How could I be so downhearted about something I didn’t even know existed twenty-four hours ago?

‘Damn. It’s so gorgeous.’

‘Don’t be disappointed. If I can take the particulars of what you’re looking for then I can put you on a list and let you know if we get anything similar.’

‘Oh, well, I was looking for something like that and I wanted it now, really. I don’t know that I want to wait.’

‘Are you looking for a narrow boat in particular, or a wide beam?’

‘Sorry, I don’t really know the difference.’

‘Umm, okay. So, the wide-beam barges, as the name suggests, would be wider. It would give you more living space. They can be around twelve feet wide.’

I can’t decide if it matters at this stage since I am decluttering and downsizing so will only take my absolute essentials with me. The whole idea is that it is time for me to simplify my life. Do I want to go for the bigger size? Would it cost more to run? Who knows?

‘Goodness, I don’t know. How wide is a narrow boat? Perhaps I need to do a bit of homework about all of this, after all.’

‘For a narrow boat you’re looking at six foot ten inches. I suggest you also start by thinking about the mooring. Do you want a permanent mooring, or are you looking to sail the barge around the Netherlands?’

‘No, I definitely don’t want to sail it around. I want it as a houseboat to live in. I certainly won’t move it. I won’t even drive down the M4; I’m never going to drive a barge down a canal in Amsterdam.’

‘Right, um. Okay, because there are no more fixed houseboats allowed in Amsterdam. Did you know this?’

‘Well, um, no.’ I realise I sound such a novice as I speak to him. I know nothing and am literally out of my depth here. I hadn’t thought too much about the technicalities, only the allure of a houseboat.

‘So, you see, the canals are completely full now so you can’t find a space and just put a barge on there. You have to buy a houseboat like you would buy a flat. It comes with the mooring and you have to wait for one to come up for sale. It’s not as easy as people think.’

‘Oh.’

‘The houseboat you were looking at didn’t come with the mooring. You need the houseboat with the space to keep it if you are certain that you want to be in Amsterdam.’

‘Yes, I definitely want Amsterdam, and I want it to be like a home that I live in. I know that much.’

‘Okay. Well, that’s very hard to find, although I do have…’ I hear Gerrit rustle some papers. ‘Umm, no, maybe not.’

‘What do you mean, maybe not? Do you have something there?’

‘Something’s going on the market tomorrow. The mooring’s in Lijnbaansgracht, a very pleasant residential neighbourhood but…’

‘But what? Oh my gosh. How much is it?’

‘Well, it’s not as expensive as the others, as it’s not quite as sustainable or eco-friendly as the one you saw. In fact, it is nothing like the one you enquired about. This one is more traditional, shall I say.’

The mention of traditional intrigues me. I do like traditional things. I mean, I kept that cuckoo clock for years.

‘It needs some work, so it’s priced to be sold quickly. It will go tomorrow for sure, even if it’s just for the mooring.’

‘Well, how much is it?’

‘It’s a bargain price. That’s why I know it will go right away.’

‘Like how much of a bargain?’

‘Two hundred and fifty thousand euros.’

I would hardly call a quarter of a million euros a bargain.

That amount of money is still a fortune.

I mean, it is not exactly in the same league as that pair of black flares I bought in the sale the other week.

It was obvious why those hideous things were a bargain.

However, as an only child, with the sale of my mother’s house not long having gone through, I do have the finances available to go ahead.

I wouldn’t need to arrange any loan that could halt the purchase.

But still, it is a huge amount of money.

‘Many of the houseboats are 450,000 euros and above. This is a good price,’ says Gerrit.

I suppose if they usually go for that sort of amount then it is a bargain. In fact, it sounds as though the mooring alone could be an investment for retirement.

‘Can you send me some photos? I’m seriously interested. Please, this sounds absolutely perfect.’

‘I can send you photos, but you must remember that it needs some attention. Although, for peace of mind, we will get a survey report done for you if you wish. But we do believe that structurally everything is fine.’

‘Well, as long as the structural report is okay then I don’t mind having a project. This sounds like just what I need.’