Aaand We Are a GO!

It’s not been the blazing summer that was planned, in more ways than one. Out here on the water the season is giving us enough to smile about however, regardless of setbacks and minor disasters. Solsbury Hill (the liveaboard boat) is lying North of Banbury on a stretch of green canal corridor, and although work continues to be something of a distraction from the desired life of independent means and constant boating, it has not been without attendant joys. First among these has been the wonderful group of international students I’ve been working with for the last month; a group I was genuinely sad to wave goodbye to this evening. In addition to the brilliance of their company and enthusiasm, I will now shortly be receiving a much-needed injection of funds which can be liberally applied to Murphy's Game, and which might take the form of a roof (provided of course that something else doesn’t go awry in the meantime). That I feel duty-bound to add this proviso does give some indication of the year to date, however; and I’m not naïve enough to think that runs of poor luck come to any sort of end just because we decide we’ve had enough. At home the engine on Solsbury looks to have entered it's palliative phase, and will soon need a serious rebuild if propulsion is to be maintained. I’ve spent much of the last month plugging holes in the roof as well, as the extent of the decay on the cabin reveals itself with each layer of paint that I remove. It’s not ideal, but not unexpected either. If you buy a 40 year old boat that has spent time at the bottom of the Thames, you’ve got to be prepared for this kind of thing. Still, if it thinks it’ll defeat me through attrition alone, it's going to be disappointed.

On a more positive note, the first steps of construction on Murphy's Game took place last week. The central lean-to roof came off, thanks in no small part to the first volunteer action of the project. Simon- more attuned to the structural needs of passenger aircraft than work boats- came along for an hour and helped cut the top off the hold. We were assisted admirably by Winston the Laborador, who when not desperately trying to avoid the attentions of young Dora, gave an impressive account of vocal support (advice?) whilst angle grinders were wielded.

Twenty minutes of cutting and the whole thing looks markedly different. Without the central canopy it has finally been possible to measure up the hold space, and more importantly how the end cabins relate to one another at a distance of 5 metres or so. The verdict? it's bent. Well of course it is; it’s 30-odd years old and has spent most of that time carrying tonnes of aggregate and timber around. Even new boats are rarely true along their lines, and this one has taken a beating. There won't be a right angle on any of these sections, so every piece will have to be bespoke fitted to its place. Once I’ve worked out how to dispose of the enormous structure now lying rakishly against one side of the hull, it’ll be all systems go on the fabrication of the new top; roof first, then I'll work out how best to fit the sliding sides on. The “design” of this (if it can currently be called that) is that both sides will open out fully, allowing for the dissipation of heat and for demonstrations of work to be done for bankside audiences. If I squint at it, I can see how it'll look, and I've a pile of metal and some steel rollers, so all that remains is to wave my hands at it all et voila! Forge boat! (*knowing look to camera*). Now, if only I had some means of transporting the old 5 metre canopy away; something like a big green Land Rover for instance. Oh. Well, never mind, I’m sure I can borrow a tractor.

My first steps are to pre-make a timber mock up frame, and test fit it before slicing up my stock of precious steel and making the real thing. Keeping the rain out of the hold now becomes the most important job of the summer, as does fitting the huge steel floor plates I have for the hold. Again, if only I had something like a big off-road work truck to move this stuff about…

Still, I’ve made the start now, and I'm about to take a fortnight off work to really get stuck into it, so expect to see some progress soon.

In other news, I recently passed my college course, re-formalising my decades-old blacksmith training. For new readers, I originally trained as a welder-fabricator and painter in the 1990s, though as a kind of ‘time served' apprentice received no college qualifications, and once the company I trained with got gobbled up by the Terex corporation, all records were lost. I then went on to train as a traditional ‘smith in my early 20s, but a bit of a personal disaster meant I never signed off on the last assessment before heading off to university, so again had no proof other than my work to verify my bona fides. It never mattered in the ensuing years so I forgot about it all, but recently my insurers began to get twitchy about liability in the face of possible claims. So in September I went back and re-did some of my training; working with apprentice Farriers at Moreton Morrell College, and brushing up on some of my rustier skills at the same time (pun intended). Last week I received a letter confirming that all my work had been passed on, so finally I have a piece of paper to go with the 30 years of metalworking experience. Special thanks to my tutor Dafydd Bowles for his help and support, and to Amelia who had the neighbouring forge to mine, and offered many well-timed words of encouragement!

So, it’s time to get on now. No more distractions and a boat to build between now and the Autumn. Realistically it won’t get finished this side of the new year, but if I can make it weather-tight in the coming weeks at least Willow may get to try out some of the traditional coach painting techniques she has recently been taught by Phil Speight (and endure the inevitable ‘well that’s not how we did it at Benford’s’ commentary from me).

If people have time early-to-mid August to come and lay hands on the work, drop me an email to rgarchaeology@gmail.com and let me know your availability. It looks like finally, 15 months after setting off from Lymm, we’re building a boat!

A special note to finish with, I’ve recently seen a lot of new subscribers here, so welcome aboard everyone. As the project unfolds I hope there will be something for everyone, and in the not too distant future I'll start adding some demonstration videos to the written word. Away from the boat itself my ‘rolling workshop’ (a lorry trailer) now sports a pair of new lathes and a raft of sheet metal tooling. I’m looking forward to showing you how the build progresses using all this, and what it takes to get a build like this over the line.

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