Last weekend I went to the Royal Yachting Association (RYA) Suzuki Dinghy Show.

Why, you ask?

Well, I’m not entirely sure.

As a kid we used to spend many a summer holiday on the Norfolk Broads mucking around on our friends’ boats (is the most middle-class sentence I’ve ever written).  And back in the life crisis mental breakdown of 2013, I decided to reignite my love for the water (is the second most middle-class sentence I’ve ever written) and do a RYA sailing course.

But this is 2015 and I’ve got the need for speed. Don’t get me wrong, I really enjoyed and still enjoy sailing; gliding serenely across the water, feeling the pull of the ropes as the sails catch a strong breeze, the rush as the boom swings dramatically across to the starboard side, and the muted hilarity as said boom thwacks your mate in the back of the head.  But it is very technical and very precise; there is definitely an art to sailing I never appreciated before.  Since then I’ve had my heart set (read: had a vague interest that crops up in varying levels of enthusiasm now and again) on something a little different, POWERBOATS!  I love driving, I love being on the water, so learning to drive a powerboat is the obvious next step, right?

As I was flicking through my copy of Time Out a few weeks ago, I stumbled upon this RYA Suzuki Dinghy Show, remembered I had once thought of power-boating and literally booked my ticket there and then.  Now, the clue is in the name ‘Dinghy Show’ – this was, of course, primarily a show case for (very expensive) sail boats and all the (very expensive) equipment that goes along with it.  So little old me and my grandiose ideas of zipping up and down the Thames on a little RIB didn’t really have a place among this tanned, gilet wearing crowd.  But nonetheless, I enjoyed myself.  At first it was a little intimidating; I felt as though I had entered a very elite, close-knit community, where money talks and Ralph Lauren reigns supreme.  But once I got over my shy-ness (more like crippling fear of knocking over a row of sail boats in a hilarious but disastrously expensive domino effect) and got talking to a few people, I realised everyone was very friendly and what I had originally construed as elitism was simply a genuine passion for the art of sailing.

In honesty, my visit to the Dinghy Show was pretty pointless, I only found one powerboat course and that was in Southampton (I live in North London).  And whilst everything I garnered from my trip could have easily been looked up online, what’s the fun in that?

Every now and again a new harebrained scheme will pop into my head; early 2014 saw me invest in an electric keyboard which is now collecting dust in the corner of my room, I spent a day a few years back shoveling horse shit at a stables when I was convinced I would become a world-class rider, and I’ve even recorded a voice reel in a vain attempt to make my millions narrating documentaries and adverts for cleaning products.

The problem is I never really see these things through.  I have an idea, I obsess over it for a few days, I sign up to a course or volunteer or buy some ridiculous equipment, and a few days or weeks later I’m over it and on to the next thing.

Critics might throw the word ‘quitter’ into the mix.  But I say haterz gon’ hate!  I’m happy dipping my toes into lots of different things, and I think I know the difference between being lazy and genuinely not feeling something.  Jobs, hobbies, clubs and classes are, at once, a lot more accessible for my generation and equally difficult to break into, so I want to see what’s out there before I throw myself head-first into something.

So I may never take a powerboat course, this time next week I could be trying my hand at pottery or dog grooming, but whether something sticks or not at least I’ll have an epic list of cool things I sort of did one time.  After all, what’s the point of being young and dumb if you don’t try out a few ridiculous ideas once in a while?