I’m on the towpath of the Kennet and Avon canal, a loaf of freshly baked sourdough bread in one hand and a bag of pungently oozing local cheese in the other. As I turn the corner near Trowbridge in Wiltshire, I brace myself. Ahead is our hired-for-the-week narrowboat, and I’m fully expecting to find my four gen Z children (aged 18 to 24) and my doomscrolling husband either bickering or welded to their screens. To my surprise, they are all reading books.
We’ve stopped taking family holidays in exotic, or even Mediterranean, locations. Too hot. Too busy. Too flight-shaming. But when I announced this year’s jaunt – a week on the mid-section of the Reading-to-Bristol canal – eyes rolled in horror. As the departure date loomed, I panicked. How would we survive in such a minuscule space? What if the lack of activities drove us to spend even longer on our phones?
