Chapter 4:

A Pallet of Landscapes & Comfort Zones

Apart from the one trip out (Chapter two: A Story of Threes) Misty Waters has stayed in one place, in the Marina. The landscape around us is the same, but everything has changed.

There is a romanticism to living on a boat but in many ways, it has not felt much different from living in a block of flats, something I have never actually done before. We have people either side of us, and throughout the marina, boats sit side by side. We can hear when our neighbours get up, and when they settle down for the night- and them us, no doubt. When I am cooking in the kitchen I can see into the window of both our neighbour’s boats and sometimes we wave to each other! We couldn’t be closer to the people around us, their lives, their sounds, and their movements. It is a community that we have no choice but to be a part of, and one of which we have come to grow extremely fond.

We have settled into life on the water, having overcome the many challenges we faced moving in over the winter. We now have a new challenge, yet another lockdown. Our lockdown is in a space no wider than a couple of metres. If we were to stretch our arms out we would be able to touch both sides at the same time, and we are not Mr Tickle! The small space is shared with myself, Sam and a large dog. Over the months that follow, the space also becomes a workshop. Regardless of the small space, and whilst lockdown for some couples was the end of domestic bliss, for us it works- we are like 2 dogs curled up by the fire. We revel in the opportunity to share our space together again whilst the rest of the world is at arm’s length.

I realise how much I like the safety of the comfort zone. Where you can sit in the security of inside, whilst the rest of the world outside is nothing more than a movie of zoom, or online teaching that you log into and out. 

The world outside however is in chaos, and my world of work is close to a living nightmare. All I can do is stand at the sides and watch as the virus wipes out those who are cared for. Watch as my colleagues fall to their knees in despair, whilst I remain in the peripheries. The guilt cripples me. I help from afar, but every day I wish I could do more. 

Snuggling up by the fire is far from what we actually do of course. In the weeks and months that follow ( and in between work and trips to London) we throw ourselves into transforming Misty. The neighbours look on in amazement as we go from one project, to another and another, and over a period of 6 months we have completely transformed Misty.

January: White

On the 23rd of Jan– we wake up to snow. The outside is as white as the inside. For a moment- all is one.

February: The Black of the River table

Finally we make  our way to the kitchen area. Sam spends her days off (whilst I work) driving around purchasing bits for our ‘new kitchen’, returning with various finds: a new oven (we have been living without one since Xmas); a new hob and a fancy black sink, all found on Marketplace and waiting to be fitted.

Today we are both off on a trip out following a lead Sam has found on Marketplace. We are off to buy a large piece of oak that will be our new kitchen worktops. These needs to be fitted before we can fit anything else.

We arrive at an industrial estate in the middle of nowhere. The Satnav takes us to a  warehouse surrounded by other warehouses that look equally as dodgy. We are greeted by a little staffy who barks at our heels.

The warehouse is like an abattoir for wood. Large slabs of oak and beech hanging from the sides. A guy shows us around, clearly proud of his pieces of meat. He is obviously an avid woodworker, and in various corners of the warehouse are projects that he is working on, including a river table which he says he has been commissioned to do, for a hefty price.

My eye is drawn to a large piece of wood that is more than 2 metres long. Sam sighs, and smiles- her sigh leaves traces in the air that form into words that say, “only Kate would choose the most expensive piece”.  It turns out I have chosen a piece of beech, which is actually cheaper than the oak- and with that the words have gone in a puff of smoke.  Excitedly we find another piece to match and hand over the cash- the deal is done. Despite first appearances, we have made a good contact and get our kitchen worktops for a reasonable price.

One of the pieces of beech has a large crack in it, which is soon filled with another project idea. We too decide to do a river table. A river table is where resin is added into cracks or spaces in wood, with colour added to it to look like a river. Sam’s first attempt at a river table was when she made one for our outside bar. It’s sea blue colour running through its centre was something that caught the eye of our friends and family as they propped up the bar. This time we chose a black resin to match the black of the colour we have chosen for the kitchen doors, giving it its own unique look away from the blue that has become in my view overdone. We spend many hours sanding the wood, so it’s finish feels like silk and a babies’ bottoms. We build the worktop so it runs down to the floor. So on entering Misty you are welcomed by a frame of beautiful wood. We then varnish it with homemade beeswax that we heat up on the stove as if making honey. That on application absorbs into the wood, that drinks it up. How easy it all sounds. Though of course nothing is ever as easy as it sounds….

The Kitchen Doors

We fit and paint new kitchen doors choosing a Midnight black that partners with the river table. As if the black of the river table has flowed down the sides and into the depths of the dark ocean. 

Before the doors, come weeks of research into the most cost effective way of doing them. Sam researches different finishes including Melanin for a smooth finish, but it proves too expensive for our budget. We decide on painted plywood doors with the edges still showing, to stay in keeping with the modern look. Sam shows me her technique to keep a smooth line that stops paint bleeding onto the edge using, very effectively, masking tape. 

March- in a turquoise rust and thoughts of Gold

By March we have nearly finished the kitchen which is ready for its final touches-the tiling. The collection of tester samples have  built up so much that we have enough to tile the whole kitchen. Which would have been perfect if we were going for a patchwork effect.

The tiles line up one by strutting their stuff along the catwalk. Only to be turned away by the critical judges. The judges have whittled it down to two : In the final is the farmhouse deep blue,(Judge Kate’s choice); & the rusty turquoise green (Judge Sam’s choice). Judge Kate likes the rusty turquoise too, but already has plans for a rust effect look in the bathroom. This remains a vision (for now):  a bathroom of rusts and golds, which glow from the light of the imaginary mirror moon placed over the non- imaginary sink. Judge Sam is unconvinced, saying that if Kate had her way, she would paint the whole boat gold! To which, Judge Kate replies: “Well come to think of it”..?

The weeks and months of work on Misty, has meant that our lounge has become a workshop. A workshop full of sawdust, paint, and resin. Blue’s fur has become its pallet, and every time he leaves the boat for a walk, a little bit of Misty’s transformation is revealed in his coat of white, green and black. His coat as well as adorned with paint is peppered with clumps of hardened resin sitting in spikes as if he was gelling his fur for a night out on the town.

April…Metal dust and red.

After months of our heads down, we stop for a moment, look up and then around. Misty’s landscape has changed. She is transformed with her makeover of fresh light walls, new cupboards, and her new kitchen. 

Now for the outside!

With the turning of the season, it is time to start on the most needed job of all and that is Misty’s paint work. Misty is a 30 year old boat and her paint work is reflective of that. Her body of steel is rusty and paint chipped. She is tatty and has welding that is full of holes, like a pair of old boots. She needs a makeover. We started the roof last August, but only managed an undercoat. Now for the final renovation.

To get a boat painted professionally it costs approximately  £1,000 a metre. Misty is around 15 metres long. So we are saving thousands.. A mantra we would regularly remind ourselves of on those days when it felt like the journey would never end.

I become the pallet covered in reds, & blues and dust- that washes away in the evening of a welcomed shower, only to return the following day.. The reds, the blues, the dust, like the scattering of the northern lights.

The neighbours have taken some time off work and have chosen to fill it with a trip up the canal for ‘a change of scenery’. Never can this be as possible as when you live on a houseboat. 

With the neighbours away we decide the first sand is best done with them out of the way, mindful that no one wants a building site next door to them. Or for the northern lights to make their way to their rooftops and windows. Soon, Misty’s coat of red has gone, and she looks like a graffiti wall with the mix of bare steel, and remnants of old paintworks. 

Misty is not the only landscape that has changed. When we wake up the next day and look out our window, outside has changed. For a moment I can’t work out what it is! Then I realise, our block of flats have gone, and in its place, space. Like walking through a dense wood and finding a clearing,  a space in nature’s landscape.  If you woke up one day and the house next door had gone- would you notice straight away? Without ours, we see the side of the water where the reeds are high. In the evenings we see the sun as it goes down, leaving a red glow on the water.

To get to the other side of Misty’s 52 Foot walls we have to turn her around. The landscape changes once again. Imagine being able to turn your house around, so it faces a different direction? Which way would you turn? Would it look to the left or would it look to the right? How would the scenery around your house change, would the tree have moved or the house next door just disappeared. Would you notice then? Or would you simply think, something is different, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.. 

It’s amazing how quickly we have nestled into our space and our surroundings. Boats are about movement and travel; but here we are anchored, here we have made a home. So turning our home around is both enchanting and disorienting. With one move like the turn of a globe, we too can turn our whole world around.  Our deck (which is like our flat balcony) and where we would sit and chat to our neighbours- is now facing the other way, away from the road, and outwards towards the water. We now have a lakeside view and what feels like a private jetty. But most importantly it feels like we are now alone with nature.

I stop the mountain climb and put down my tools for a moment. I take my yoga mat out onto the jetty, and do some yoga looking out onto the water. It is the very same jetty as before but it feels different somehow. Usually self conscious of the people around me and the long walk along the jetty’s plank, this way round I feel closer to home, connected by Misty’s umbilical cord. For this moment it is just me, the water, nature and Blue.

Blue is calmer with the boat this way round. He can still see people, but can sit and watch, in the safety of the place he is in as life passes him by. Is that not what we all need, a safe place, a feeling that we belong in life’s landscape.

The water is calm, ( there are no skulls in the air). But it turns out we are not alone. I hear bubbles in the water. Distracted, I stop my yoga. I am surprised to discover that there is life below, wondering how anything survives in a water that holds so many lives above it. But life there is: a school of carp, at least 4 of them- 4 large fish, not dissimilar to catfish in appearance. They appear and then disappear into the mist of the water. Misty’s Water. I call Sam, and we sit with them and share the moment. We throw bread into the water and watch in silence as the carp swim deep into the mist, then appear raising their head out of the water, & engulfing the bread whole in their huge mouths whilst we gasp in amazement. We sit and watch as nature unfolds in front of our eyes passing, like the turning the pages of a book. We try to capture the moment on film- but it is lost. I think about what it means to ‘capture a moment’. Does the very act of trying to capture a moment mean we lose the very thing we are trying to hold on to. Or are we trying to simply hold on, so we can feel it for a little bit longer.  For now the moment is perfect. A perfect break from the hours of work that have snowballed into a day, and then another day and before we know it, 4 months have passed.

May-The turning of the globe

Today is my birthday! Birthdays, the day you are minded of your entry into life’s landscape. The day when many question where we fit within it. When we question: where we belong; what we mean to others; our value; our worth. And for most of us we can’t help feeling like the wrong fit.

For my birthday we decide to take Misty up the river- we own a boat after all, and what a way to celebrate a birthday, but on the water. We are both a little nervous. Misty is no longer just a boat, she is our home. And inside her vessel is everything that we call home. What if she breaks down again? I am reminded of a recent photo of a sunken narrowboat not far from where we are heading. The engine room is currently our dressing room, not necessarily a good combination when it comes to driving her.

Fueled with lunchtime’s celebratory bubbles we kick into action, Sam moves all the boxes of clothes (Jenga style) and carefully places them on the bed. Whilst I start the engine, and drive Misty out of her fish finger slot. We are on the move. The landscape changes once again and we watch as life passes us.

We pass cyclists on ‘the cut’ and I hold on to Blue, who does not seem to notice. We pass old neighbours who are now living on the cut, and we wave at each other. We pass other boats and take note of their colours, now we are working on ours. Our home is moving through space and time.

A text arrives on our phone from The Corner Group (Our boating corner WhatsApp group) “alert alert the girls have gone missing”? “Where have they gone?” We reply with jokes about ransom money.  For our neighbours, their landscape has changed. They now have a space where Misty once was.  

We pass a boater who sings Happy Birthday to me and I wonder how he knows- forgetting about the birthday balloons on the back of the boat. We pass another boat and I see a lady waving at her window smiling and mouthing “Happy Birthday”. Today my landscape is joyous, today I feel a part of its many colours.

As we come back into the marina, our corner post of friends are waiting for us, waiting once again to pull us in.

In she comes with one side half painted, and the other side undecided. Misty, slowly but surely, is transforming. We are one step closer to getting her finished, as we work layer by layer, metre by metre. Although people say, the boat’s work is never finished…

What does it mean to capture a moment? Or to be a part of the landscape of life? With the use of words, one hopes to bring awareness to its very existence, and even add a little colour. Share a story of two people climbing a mountain, where the journey is one of transformation. Paint a picture from a pallet of: whites & blacks; reds & golds, turquoise & blues. Share the journey with others, so they might feel it, and even look on with the same wonder at how far they have come.