Marie Browne's account of two years living on a canal boat is about as far as you can get from the fantasies of glossy tourist brochures. But this book might just persuade you that - despite swarms of mosquitoes, overflowing toilets and the continual threat of drowning - it is worth leaving the rat-race behind in favour of a life afloat.
Narrow Marginsby Marie Browne
Narrow Margins is the true story of one family's journey from the financial crash of the Rover car company to an alternative and better lifestyle. Faced with the loss of everything, the house, the cars and more importantly their rather lazy and indolent lifestyle, Marie Browne and her family took on the challenge of a whole new way of life. Strapped for cash, the
Narrow Margins is the true story of one family's journey from the financial crash of the Rover car company to an alternative and better lifestyle. Faced with the loss of everything, the house, the cars and more importantly their rather lazy and indolent lifestyle, Marie Browne and her family took on the challenge of a whole new way of life. Strapped for cash, the family buy a decrepit 70ft barge called Happy Go lucky which had been run as a floating hotel. Outdated and in need of a complete refurbishment, Happy becomes their floating home. First they need to learn the ropes and many pitfalls beset their adventures. As they come to terms with living on a narrow boat, readers gain a fascinating insight into life in the slow lane.
- Accent Press, Ltd.
- Publication date:
- Product dimensions:
- 5.10(w) x 7.70(h) x 0.90(d)
Meet the Author
Marie Browne is a gently harrassed mother of three
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Most Helpful Customer Reviews
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A very funny story about a family's adventures living on and remodeling a barge. I laughed out loud so many times for extended periods of time. I'd love a sequel to this. Great writing and story.
This was a well written and wonderfully funny book. I highly recommend you read it when alone or be prepared for the stares of others who will like you have went insane when you are giggling at the family's exploits. Please pass on to the author that continuing the families story would be great for her new fans, which i am definetly one of. Rmg
Chapter Eleven I snatch a dark knife off a nearby table and hurl it at a target as hard as I can. Not paying attention to where it landed, I pick another, aim, and— "Hi!" A cheery voice says. I jump and drop my knife. It clatters to the ground. "Oops, sorry." The voice says. I whip around and find myself face-to-face with a blonde-haired boy, about my age. He grins. "I'm Pax." "Terrin." I answer, stooping to pick up my knife. "Cool. So, um—hey, you got a bull's-eye!" He can't seem to stay on one topic for more than five second, he laughs a lot, and he just seems like a fun guy. "Yeah." I turn to see, and realize he's right. "Oh, yeah!" "Yea-uh!" He holds up his hand and I slap him a high-five. "Oh, dude, look at that." His blue eyes dart over to the gun training area. "What?" I follow his gaze to the guns and freeze. Screams. Blood. My dead mother. All before my eyes. Gunfire, shouts, and bodies swarm into my mind as I see the vicious fight in my own hometown. I was only twelve. I didn't deserve that, nor did my eight-year-old sister, fourteen-year-old brother, or poor cat. "Pretty cool, right?" I can't hear him. I stare ahead, seeing the gore instead of the Training Center. The soldiers instead of teenagers. But now, we ARE the soldiers. "Terrin?" Pax's voice has a hint of concern. "Yoo-hoo!" He waves a hand in front of my face. "Huh?" I turn to him. "What?" "Oh, that's what." He grins mischieviously. "What?" I repeat. The wild smile look on his face is not reassuring. "You were checking out those guys." "What!? Ugh, you sicko!" I look to see, and pause. A group of teenage boys, my age, are talking by the guns. "THEM?" I ask like that's the most ridiculous suggestion I've ever heard. I wouldn't have a chance, even if I knew them. "Don't worry, my new friend. They'll like you." He walks over to the guns and I follow, pushing down the strong sense of foreboding. One of the boys I'd seen loads a gun. I feel like I know him. No, I DO... I've seen him... I'm standing near him. I consider asking him something when he aims at the target and fires. The last things I'm aware of are being airborne and immense pain. Then I black out.