In 1970 I was seven years old and in my first term of boarding school in Kent, homesick and bemused. I was unable to understand why I was sent away from my family when they only lived in Horsham. The fact that it was the 'done thing' for officers' children was way over my head. Still, displaying a commendable stiff upper lip, I saw my first term through; cold porridge and a matron nicknamed Crusty were endured.

In my weakened state I misheard the call for all children going 'abroad' for the holidays and joined the queue outside sickbay to receive my jabs. It was quick and undignified especially as hepatitis B required bare buttocks before the gleeful grin of Crusty. I left clutching my arm unaware that, with cholera, smallpox and hepatitis jabs, I was the most well-protected person to be holidaying on the Norfolk Broads.

My father thought it highly amusing and saw it as a good omen; said things could only get better for me. He was wrong, and he was wrong to think that two weeks on a small sailing boat with three landlubbers was going to succeed. My mother could endure all sorts of trying circumstances but she was no sailor. I wonder if the seeds of their eventual divorce could be traced back to Hickling Broad when we lost all the blankets overboard leaving us to weather the summer cold in sheets and oilskins?

Our boat, Jasmine II, had holes - one above Mum's pillow. Whenever it rained she was soaked - and it rained every other night. Another one below the waterline was plugged before we made our dramatic departure from the marina. My father had given my sister and me detailed instructions on how to cast off. He steered away from the jetty, the crowd waving enthusiastically. It was then that he noticed that the 'crowd' consisted of two children... his two children. In his instructions he had neglected to tell us to climb aboard. My dad returned to pick us up and the stage was set for two weeks of overflowing toilets, exploding gas ovens, two 'men overboard' and a threatened mutiny. Thirty-five years on and I still haven't managed to trawl up a happy memory of that time, though I certainly didn't catch any tropical diseases.

· Have you had a crap holiday? If so, write in and tell us about it. The writers of stories we publish will receive a copy of the Idler Book of Crap Holidays. Email crap.holidays@observer.co.uk