We’ve got a can of Intertuf.

And we’re not afraid to use it.


This weekend Becky continued to attack the huge list of so called ‘small’ jobs. All of which sorely need doing, and together add up to a huge difference in the overall state of our vessel. The latest in pictures:

The Mast, after its first top coats of white.

A water header tank, and its inspection hatch, the old flaky paint came off in seconds and underneath it turned out to be galvanised on the outside.. luckily the inside is in surprisingly good nick too so its going to be useful.


Two blanking plates which I made for the starboard fuel filler hole and forward flue opening, neither of which had anything sensible ready to put in them.

The mast foot… Which prior to cleaning and painting had to be burned off the scrappy piece of wood that it’d been screwed, bolted and mastic’d to. God bless oxy-propane.

A finished blanking plate installed over an opening at the back of the (dusty again) engine room superstructure.

And inevitably, some more ballast because we mixed up too much paint as usual. Acquisition of ballast kindly arranged by Mr Twine.



Becky often feels like a bit player in the background of this blog, because despite my best efforts I seem too often able only to write things from my own point of view, which gives the impression that there’s less going on than there actually is. I’d like to take the opportunity to make it absolutely clear that it takes two to tango. B may not have the inclination to throw power tools around for days and weeks on end, and she is painfully aware of her need to request some skilled things to be done for her. But it’s clear to me that it’s often her tenacity and vision that forces the whole thing forward. She is a determined woman alright. I tried to explain to her last night that, had I been left to my own devices, the new cabin would have been made of steel. Sure it would likely be finished by now, but it would also probably be an ugly thing possessing none of the sympathy our cabin structure has with the original wheelhouse and none of the grand aesthetic that the resulting edifice is developing. This is only as a direct result of Becky’s input to the design process, a fact she needs reminding of.

There’s also a bit of upset kicking about due to the fact that I reduced the significant, and long awaited installation of our spiral staircase to a few glib lines at the end of my last entry. My apologies, sometimes my twisted and inappropriate sense of humour runs away with me. But the pole dancing really WAS fun, did you really need to read about every nut tightened?

Sometimes we fight because we’re both quite headstrong and wilful people. Hey. Couples probably should have a good fight now and then, I’m always a bit suspicious when I hear someone claim they and theirs never do it. We just get scared when we argue a lot without seeming to resolve stuff. But it is a strange thing indeed to subject a relationship to the prolonged pressure testing that rebuilding such an old wreck of a vessel dictates. I remind myself that no reasonable couple would’ve voluntarily walked into the situation we find ourselves in, so somehow we should expect things to occasionally become distinctly unreasonable.

I tend to get shirty as well, all by myself, with no help from anyone at all. Basically the whole thing has become an immense source of personal frustration, our boat is a dream that's become a prolonged nightmare from which there seems no waking up. I just want to get the sodding thing on the water and begin a life of sorts, the limbo of our current arrangements has gone on far, far too long (trust me- I'm talking about more than just the boat here) and it just drives me a bit bonkers, the waiting, the working, the constant obsession. Not to mention the frankly scary amounts of cash that fly around (usually it migrates south). On the other hand, like Becky, I want to everything done double properly as well. It’s a case of one or the other, and usually the latter wins simply because I seem to have ridiculous issues around perfectionism, and because we still have a dream which we just refuse to give up on. Dammit. I gave up an old imperfect life on two wheels for this and it's been a long old journey. Things should be perfect, and they will be. One day. One day soon.