A boat show no show

Has the London boat show had its day?

The zombies in George A. Romero’s 1978 classic Dawn of the Dead are drawn by some visceral instinct to their local shopping mall, where they aimlessly and endlessly wander the aisles, slack-jawed and docile, staring blankly at the store windows.

And so it is with me and the annual London Boat Show. Every year I attend, every year I wonder what the hell I’m doing there and every year I tell myself it’s my last time. But then the next New Year comes around and something I can’t quite put my finger on draws me back.

Have you heard of this thing called the Internet?

Okay, so I’m not in the market for a new boat, and barring a sizeable lottery win or the passing of a some long lost relative who was far better with their money than I am, I’m not going to be.

As to everything else, well, we have this thing called the Internet now. And it’s really great. If I need a new tap for my galley sink, a tin of anti-foul, or fancy not going the way of certain Italian cruise ship captains and decide to upgrade my navigation aids, I can research the market on-line, compare prices, read the comments of other buyers and have my selection delivered to me the very next day. If I feel like a holiday that isn’t beset with maintenance and repair I can research a world of destinations, late offers, prices and reviews, and book the whole thing in a few clicks without moving beyond the reach of my favourite bottle of scotch.

Perhaps I’m not alone

It seems my view may be shared by a few other people who are blessed with rather more willpower than myself. Comparing, somewhat unscientifically I admit, the attendance at the boat show over the last 10 years (according to Wikipedia) with the participation in watersports over the same period (reported by the British Marine Federation), there’s a pretty clear divergence. Participation in watersports is dropping (which I have to admit came as a surprise to me) but attendance at the boat show is dropping rather more quickly.

There’ll always be a boat show…

There will surely always be a market for the boat show. If you’re seriously looking for a new boat it’s a great opportunity to get up close and personal with the offerings of a large number of makers; which is especially useful if you’re the cash-rich brains-poor type who’s main criteria are pretty lines and a longer waterline-length than your golfing partner’s.

If you like the personal touch it gives you a chance to talk to a host of sailing schools, holiday operators and manufacturers of marine gear in one go. If you’re an armchair sailor it’s a great opportunity to feed your dreams, listen to other sailors natter away and buy some tat for the mantelpiece at Nauticalia. For the sociable it’s an event which can reunite old friends and crewmates for a beer and a natter. And if you need to keep the kids occupied on a cold and wet Saturday afternoon it’s a great opportunity to clog the aisles with prams and screaming children.

And there’ll always be exhibitors too. Being at the boat show is like having adverts in the sailing press or keeping a web-site; it gives weight and credibility to your business. But I’ve heard the gripes of smaller businesses in the marine industry, about whether the time and cost involved in being there are really justifiable. I can see the breadth and colour of the show continuing to ebb away over the coming years.

And the boat show will adapt to declining popularity. Last year’s partial co-hosting with the Outdoors Show won an additional 30,000 more people across the doors of the combined events, with this year’s addition of the London Bike Show and Active Travel Show repeating the story.

…but maybe not for me

Maybe this time is the last time for me though. Barring long lost Great Aunt Constance popping her clogs and leaving me the price of a new Southerly I don’t foresee a change in my situation that would call for another visit. And if I know I’d buy a Southerly with my inheritance, well, I can find them online can’t I?

But then willpower has never been my strong suit. So if you happen to run into a shuffling, slack-jawed zombie wandering the aisles of next year’s show, do stop and say hi.