One London, Two Boat Shows

It's that time of short days being spent dreaming of long days, otherwise known as The London Boat Show, when an idyllic construct of a Mediterranean quayside is erected in Earl's Court, complete with equatorial temperatures endured wearing Inuit-specked thermals. Why, they even have the ubiquitous Irish bar (otherwise known as the Irish Embassy) in the form of the Guinness stand, where I have always spent an inordinate amount of time, on one occasion it was the only thing I managed to do.

That's the way it is. Or at least the way it was, until a couple of years ago. Exhibitors got fed up with small stand footprints and exorbitant charges, just at the time that the dreadful ExCel was touting for all exhibitia south of the NEC, and the totally soulless experience of the New London Boatshow was born. The overheated delights of Earl's Court were replaced with air conditioned space, rather too much of it, in Docklands, miles from anywhere that isn't mega-expensive on-site parking.

I should state my extreme prejudice concerning Docklands right now; in the 70s, I used to punch aggregate up the London River (barge-speak for the Thames) in an old motor barge. It was in the early days of building the M25, and the project had an insatiable demand for ready-mixed concrete. The easiest way to move the aggregate into London was by barge from seabed dredgers or the quarry at Fingringhoe that my barge worked from. There were seven plants that had jetties or quays that landed the aggregate, mixed the spec required, and the consignment was delivered out to the mother of all motorway hell by lorries with revolving barrels. I'll save the stories of those days (which are many) for another day, but suffice to say that the London River was very different in those days of decay, just on the cusp of the Thatcherite revolution, and I loved it that way. All those beautiful dilapidated warehouses on wharves and in the derelict docks had such a charm that was lost the day the redevelopment started. Call it yuppie envy if you like, it probably is, but I genuinely loath seeing the steel and glass palaces that replaced the wood and brick bosom of the Empire.

So, I don't like Docklands, and I set my hat against the new venue for the Boat Show long before I started to work out how the hell to get there. I went once, loathed it on principle, left early in the happiness of finding it predictably disagreeable.

Imagine my delight to find that a breakaway faction mounted the Earl's Court Boat Show in the early days of December 2007, and my frustration that a various coming-together of immovable circumstances guaranteed I couldn't attend. And the crying shame is that neither did many others, as it seems to have been poorly advertised, and potential exhibitors were allegedly frightened by the bully-boy ExCel show organisers worried about diluted attendance figures. There is talk of a sponsorship deal having been secured for next year, but don't hold your breath.

Now for the humble pie. As I missed Earl's Court, and because the 200 year old Mersea smack Boadicea has been hauled into the Classic Boat magazine stand, I'll turn to for a couple of hours and give the ghastly shed another chance. Also, an author I am fond of, Sam Llewellyn (the Dick Francis of the sea) is lecturing, so I'll try and hit town that day. I'll report back.