Adrian Morgan
34
CLASSIC BOAT JUNE 2019
I
s there life after boatbuilding? Clearly yes, depending
on how careful you have been to keep your fingers
intact, wear a mask, eye and ear protection, etc. As
for life, in the sense of an occupation, that’s trickier.
Some believe that building little boats is addictive;
ingrained and impossible to give up. I say nonsense. I
am pretty sure that most of those time-served old boat
builders of yore were only too happy to down tools and
escape to their allotments to raise huge marrows and
legendary onions for village fetes.
Some of them may well have whittled little model
boats or popped ships in bottles but no more plane and
adze, caulking and paying. In any case, their options
were limited, and by the time most were in their 60s,
they would have been crippled by arthritis and on their
way to a much earlier grave than is the case today.
Have you noticed how all those chaps in flat caps and
overalls you see in British Pathé newsreels from the 1930s
right through to the 80s, are invariably hollow of cheek,
fag-smoking and scrawny? You would probably put them
at 65 or more, when most would have been in their late
40s or early 50s. Today’s 60 is yesterday’s 40, we are told.
Having hung up my tools last year, time has been spent
enjoyably working at last on my own boat – an 82-year
makeover for the Vertue Sally, and not a moment too
soon. On the mooring before lifting her ashore, she
contrived to seize her prop shaft. The message was clear:
get me onto dry land, where you will work your fingers
to the bone bringing me back to my best. You owe me.
So that is what I have been doing, scraping years of
antifouling, replacing the seized prop bearing and a
hundred other things that only now I realise need doing.
I kidded myself that she was doing fine, which she was,
to a point. ‘Fishing boat smart’ was the mantra. Topsides
every two or three years, decks every two and brightwork
whenever I had the time or inclination. This year all the
chores seemed to have amalgamated into one big one.
This will keep me busy for months, between household
jobs and generally loafing about, wasting time on motor
bikes and other toys, getting up at 8am, not having to be
at work by then. Altogether a more leisurely existence.
Is it enough? Man cannot live by loafing alone, and I
have been pondering a fresh, highly lucrative career
move, one that social media suggests will net me huge
amounts of cash for doing relatively little. It would mean
wearing a smarter pair of overalls than I am accustomed
to and polishing up my image in general, enough to pass
muster in front of a camera but still authentically down
to earth in a boatbuildery way.
Shamelessly, and with an eye solely on great dollops
of cash, I intend to begin my new career as an influencer.
You’ve all heard of influencers?
Well, for those for whom the world
of social media is a mystery, and
who think Kylie Jenner and Kim
Kardashian must be football
players, an influencer does what it
says on the glossy, made-up, fake-tanned, breast-
enhanced, eyebrow-etched packet: influence. In return
for massive bungs from manufacturers desperate to
peddle their snake oil to punters, influencers endorse
these products, on camera, and post the results on
Instagram and YouTube.
For a skin cream that promises to erase wrinkles, or
fillers to cover up natural blemishes, and skin scrubbers
that peel away the layers to leave a complexion the envy
of a teenager, you might get £1,000 to £10,000, depending
on how famous you have become. Then of course, there’s
make-up. Foundations, lipstick, powder... much the
same stuff I’ll be needing for Sally in fact. Screwfix
would, I feel, surely reward me handsomely for
endorsing their scrapers, as would International Paint for
Sally’s final, flawless finish. The money will roll in...
Adrian considers a new career on YouTube and Instagram
“Some
believe
building
little boats
is addictive.
I say
nonsense”
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Life after boatbuilding