We are looking for a new hobby and I was looking through some adverts for second-hand classic wooden boats. The more I looked and read the explanatory blurb, the more my eyes were rolling like a boat in a perfect storm.

If I see a photo of a sharp wooden sail boat scooting across the bay, I think, That's cool. If it is in my price range, I will check to see that at least 2 other sailors in the world have said that it is a functional vessel that floats in all weathers and seas. If there is a survey, I'd like to make sure there is no mention of termites. As far as the living accomodation below decks, all I want to know is that it has a decent double bed plus a flat screen TV and seats that you can sit in without feeling like you are in a church pew. Otherwise, my curiosity goes no further and that is enough info for me to make an offer.

I am very different to the woody owners who view their ship as a precious extension of their immediate family. They talk about a 50 year-old tub like it was a spoilt kid, and they go all mushy and sentimental about how good "She" has been to them, how easy "She " is and "She" has never let them down, (I guess that parallel with a child was a bit off base, but you know what I mean!) To really nail home the delusion, they end by saying you have to go a long way to find such pretty curtains...

Down to business

In this day and age of a worsening economy, let's face it, there is a glut of boats on the market, so, I should get a good deal, right? But reading some of the personal notes alongside the tech specs, it looks like negotiations could be a bit weird.

Many romantic boat owners insist on a Sale to the right person. To achieve this nirvana, they inflate the asking price, and infer that a wooden boat is a 24/7 maintenance hog and you better be a qualified wooden boat maker and hater of all things fiberglass. Quite frankly, this sort of bull is manna for non-sentimental people like me with more sense than money.

To circumvent the deluded sellers' strange anti-competitve tactic, I will adopt a glazed look and a wishy washy voice and eulogize about the beauty of the boat's lines. I will of course admit to a love of scraping varnish and if it looks like the deal is slipping away from me, I will go on and on and on asking all sorts of intelligent questions about the history of the boat I am interested in.

And when they feel comfortable that I am the right person, and we start talking money, I will mention that it is a bit over-priced because the boat looks like a maintenance hog. They will be horrified at such a slight against their baby, so, being a sharp negotiator, I will say that, actually, on closer inspection, it looks incredibly well maintained and it will be an honor to keep it that way.

Back at the table, back in their good books, they will want to talk money,at which point I will then plead poverty. But not so poor that the offer isn't tantalizing. Smiling gormlessly at them like the Steve Buscemi character in Fargo, I will keep my cool as they weigh up the first offer in 9 and a half months. I am confident they would sell their beloved lump of wood to almost the right person.

Burn baby burn

In a moment of cruel jest, I fantasized about trying to buy a treasured wooden boat without revealing that I was looking for one as a prop for a remake of the movie "Last of the Vikings". The look on the ex-owners' face as they watched their ship crossing the fictitious River Styx, ablaze, would be priceless.