Beneteau, boxy but good?

I will be the first to admit it. I am spoiled. Lucky, and spoiled. I was lucky in that the first family sized boat we owned didn't sink, didn't turn turtle, and was enough fun that when we realized it was a floating condo unsafe at any speed (except tied to a dock), we still wanted and could afford another one. Or at least, he still wanted another one. I wasn't really dragged kicking and screaming into the experiment, but I wasn't as passionate about it as was my (now former) husband. The Erwin 54 (floating condo) did a lot to dampen my enthusiasm. Gold plated LED lighting system, Laura Ashley upholstery, and a really nice sound system didn't even begin to make up for the leaky bilge, leaky hatches, flimsy-feeling rigging, "flexible" hull, and a stove that took over an hour to boil a pot of water. Not to mention the"arch." I felt like the girlfriend of one of those guys who puts a great big spoiler on the back of his Nissan. It was embarrassing. (So was the gold-plated lighting and frou-frou upholstery, for that matter.)
Spoiled came in with the second boat. Good Omens was (as New Orleans was once described) like a beautiful woman with a dirty face. She had beautiful lines, dreamy handling, sketchy paint and a distinct tang of mildew. She was a Shannon 50 ketch, a queen among cruisers. Cleaned up and refitted, she made a beautiful home. (Once we figured out why she kept dumping all of her oil and why the bilge was filling to the brim every time we heeled over, that is.) Point is, she was a classic. Full to the gills with oak and teak, she was beamy, solid, graceful, safe as a cradle.  We could have crossed oceans in Good Omens. Alas, that was not to be. It was not her fault. I hope that she is crossing oceans now with her new owners.
And I am still lucky and spoiled. I live in the mountains, garden, hike, bike, write, make art. I go home to visit my family in Florida as often as I can, and I still dream of moving back onto a boat. And I still believe that I can. Realistically, however, I will not own another Shannon 50. Among other things, I don't have the skill to singlehand her, or the wherewithal to buy and refit one. So I am forced to consider the merits of "lesser" craft. O, none of them need to feel bad. I have set Good Omens so high in my memory that any craft short of the QE2 would fall short of her. And so I haunt sailing websites, gleaning the wisdom of salty old bloggers who would like nothing more than to sell me on their particular craft. (Some of them would love to sell me their specific craft, as well!) Upon their advice, I have been examining (from afar, we don't have many cruising yachts in Asheville) the Beneteau 34. This is a craft from which I have always instinctively shied away. She has lines like a tub. Her bow cuts straight down to the water, something I find highly unattractive. She has a sugar scoop transom, which I always understood to be a liability in following seas. I am assured, however that she sails like a dream and handles beautifully in intercoastal waters, both of which suit me fine. Her accommodations are spare, but not Spartan. Gone is the solid oak and teak of my former home, replaced with paneling and fiberglass. It is sort of like a brand new double wide, but smaller, and without the velvet paintings of  Jesus and Elvis. And so, the Beneteau 34 goes on my list of boats to investigate when I am next by the sea. Have a look, and tell me what you think.
(No worries, Mom. Hunters are still RIGHT OUT.)
http://www.yachtworld.com/core/listing/photoGallery.jsp?ro=1&slim=quicknull&r=2468078&checked_boats=2468078&rs=yachtworld.com&boat_id=2468078&back=/core/boats/2010/Beneteau-34-2468078/Marina-Del-Rey/CA/United-States&boat_id=2468078

My new hero

I am currently reading Mom's copy of Gipsy Moth Circles the World, and am amazed at what poor Sir Francis had to endure before even leaving port! A badly designed boat with almost none of his specs (far larger and leakier than he wanted), 50% over budget even before launch, a bum leg, and his beloved wife laid out by a curtain rod! I think I would have crumbled. This is perhaps why my dream is not so much to circumnavigate the globe as to make it as far as Maine some day. Or Key West. Whatever. I am easy to please.
This is the Gipsy Moth IV, possibly the world's luckiest boat, coming in to Devon. (Lucky in that he didn't dynamite her in the Solent.)
http://www.bbc.co.uk/devon/content/image_galleries/gipsy_moth_returns_gallery.shtml