Don’t Miss It

What a slow boat on the River Wey taught me about family, flow, and growing older.

May 25, 2025

Going With the Flow

Last week, I was on a boat holiday with my family on the River Wey — the oldest navigation in the UK, built in 1653.

As we chugged along at a snail’s pace through the Surrey water plains and wild meadows, I had the sense that not much had changed here in decades. It all had that filmic quality — soft heat haze, slow motion.

The only things rushing on the river are humans. Everything else is just going with the flow.

And England in May? It’s a full-on showstopper. The citrus green of new shoots, the debutante ballgowns of the trees. Fields alive with calves. On the river: ducklings, cygnets, goslings — bobbing in tight-knit groups, watched by their vigilant parents. It all felt abundant, alive, flowing, effortless.

The teens adapted quickly — learning how to work the locks and operate as a team.
All hands on deck:

One on the tiller and back rope
Two on the locks and paddles
One on the front rope

They moved together, listened, adjusted. A rare kind of harmony that doesn’t always show up at home.

Of course, it wasn’t all plain sailing. We each needed solitude. There were huffs to move through. And by midweek, my son and his girlfriend decided to head home. The sensory challenges and close proximity of boat life proved too much.

We went with the flow. We adapted. The three of us carried on — and I was proud of how we reached that decision. After initial drama we were able to regroup. Calmly. Kindly. Collectively.

This is what the river taught me:

If you work against the tide, it’s exhausting.
Going with the flow isn’t passive — it’s a skilful use of energy and resources.
My children are growing up, and how we make decisions as a family is changing — it’s more about listening, conversation, and shared strategy.
I have much to let go of.

Life, work, family, friendships, health — they all have their own seasons.
We need to respect the ebb to ride the flow.
We need the winters of rest to have energy in spring. I need to stop pushing and panicking. Trust more.

And full moons on the water?
They are to be observed. Not scrolled past.

I am so deeply grateful for my sobriety.

The recovery that followed feels like being handed a precious bounty:
Presence. Bandwidth. Resilience.

I will never stop being thankful to those who got sober and healed out loud — who built spaces where I could find the others, and join in.

Now, post-menopause, I find myself holding space for teenage girls and younger women — as I continue growing myself.
I love ageing.
I am proud of the woman I’m becoming.

But I still need my foundations.
I still need my rituals.
I still need to slow down.

Because here’s the thing:
On the river, people have time to talk.
To laugh with strangers.
To be generous.

We mustn’t rush.
Let’s not miss it.

With love and river-soaked reflections,
Kate x