OddThinking

I owned a toy hovercraft as a boy. It was blue and white. As you pushed it along the ground, its hidden wheels under the fake skirt would turn, and make its plastic radar dish on the roof would spin.

Later, as a young teen, I made my own working toy hovercraft out of a yoghurt container, a paper plate, two ice-block sticks, a small electric motor, and a couple of batteries. Thanks Curiousity Show! (I once worked in the same building complex as Deane Hutton, which was a nostalgic thrill every time I saw him in the cafeteria!)

Is it any surprise that I had a desire to travel on a real-life hovercraft? More-experienced people pooh-poohed my desire. “It’s too noisy!” they explained, “It’s too rough! You get sea-sick on it.” I ignored the nay-sayers. I wanted to experience it for myself.

The opportunity arose while I was travelling in Europe. A hovercraft acted as a ferry between Dover and Calais. It travelled infrequently – was it only Friday afternoon? – so, I carefully arranged an entire itinerary – shuffling destinations and durations – to ensure we were ready to leave Dover at exactly the right time.

So, I was quite excited when I finally turned up in Dover, clutching our tickets. The staff were very excited too.

You see, it was only the second-ever voyage of their brand-new catamaran ferry. It could travel across the Channel in the same time as the hovercraft, but with less noise and more comfort.

Their smiles were gleaming almost as much as the vessel itself, while I stomped around, disgusted. It was just a damned boat with two damned hulls. They stuck into the water; what’s the fun of that?

I still have never travelled on a hovercraft. I may never get the chance.