Posted by Andy on September 19, 2017 at 15:15:18 user Andy.
In Reply to: The next generation posted by MarkD on September 19, 2017 at 07:08:16:
I'm 54, and demolished The Twelve from an early age, re-reading them many times during my childhood. The books, however, never clicked with my brother or sister: I'm not sure why.
I was lucky enough to grow up not far from the Lakes and - luckier still - learned to sail while at school. Subsequently I did a pile of dinghy sailing during my twenties and thirties, but had to stop and sell up (I just had no time) when my two boys were very young: they, as a result, have had no experience in small boats.
Without any pressure I'd hoped, perhaps through some form of psycho-osmosis :) that they'd pick up the Ransomes at a young age, but they didn't, and I didn't want to push it. They've camped (and loved it), they've heard my sailing yarns often enough, and they're clearly aware of my groaning shelves of regularly-read Ransome-related literature - so I have a plan: my last chance to quietly enthuse them!
Next year is Dad-Gets-The-Wayfarer-Year, and following some Scottish Loch sailing to weed out any dufferishness (we live in the Central Belt) my plan is for a week's camping and sailing in the Lakes. I'm certain they'll amuse me, the old 'un, with traipsing around the Ransome landscape and maybe - just maybe - get bitten by the outdoors and what it has to offer. My secret weapon in this is my stepdaughter's son, 'then aged seven'. He and I have talked long and hard about things, and we've both decided a future of piracy and skullduggery on the high seas is really all we want out of life. Now, if there's a chance my boys as young adults can see the world through their nephew's eyes (and I think it's a good chance, stuck in a couple of tents together) all is not lost!
Mark, with regards to your post, the only practical advice I can give is this: I took my eldest son camping when he was just twelve weeks old. In Belgium. We survived. A few years later, camping on one of the coldest, wettest nights I've ever witnessed, and concerned that the kids (then about eight and four) would a/ hate it, or b/ drown in the tent, both boys said they loved every minute and 'when can we come again?'
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