Small Is Beautiful

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I love my little boat. She is not what I would have chosen, but I have put a lot into her and she has rewarded my efforts and now I think that maybe she chose me. But one of the things I like most about her is her size – or lack of it.

I remember, in my very early twenties, standing in the bedroom of the house I was then living in and thinking ‘all this space. For a bed?’ It seemed daft then (it seems daft now) and my next thought was, ‘it’s so much better living on a boat.’ Within a few months I was living aboard once more and in the intervening, heaven know how many years, I have spent less than 12 months between walls.

I live in a space of less than 11 sq metres – 120 sq ft – and that is at shoulder height. My feet, legs and hips manage in less. I have a wonderfully comfortable and cosy bed. It has its own space sacrosanct to lying and sleeping.  It does not have a room entirely to itself, but there is plenty of space under it to stow gear. And in summer, when I don’t want to be cosy, there is a large hatch over it that lets in the fresh air. It also lets in the light, to encourage me to get up and see what the new day has to bring. At the forward end is a clothes locker and on either side are book shelves, with my cherished friends therein.

There is a small toilet, so that I have a certain amount of convenience and outboard and above is a locker that contains my sewing machine and beer barrel. Opposite is a cabinet with storage for toiletries; beneath is a locker for sewing stuff, toilet rolls, laundry pegs, etc and under that is a shoe locker. Moving aft we come to the saloon and galley. I cook in my living room; or live in my kitchen, depending on how you look at it. The settee and table are comfortable and can fit 4 with ease, 5 in comfort (as long as no-one is fat), and 6 for a party. I have fridge (hmm – this came with the boat, can’t be removed without dismantling the galley, but is a bit of a mixed blessing to say the least), sink and cooker, and plenty of storage. Good lockers protect my locally-made crockery and cup hooks support the fine china mugs that I prefer for my tea. I have plenty of room for pressure cooker, pans, storage containers, etc. The saloon provides lockers for longer term food supplies.

If the party is getting on the large side, each quarter berth has a seat at its head and we can comfortably seat another couple of people there. The grog locker is here, too and my little heater.

Many houses have a deck or verandah, where one can enjoy lunch in the sunshine, or unwind with a sundowner at the end of the day. My cockpit provides the same amenity. Two people can sprawl luxuriously in the sun. Four can sit at ease. It’s a bit of a squeeze for eight. Around and abaft this space are more lockers for things like paint and rope.

Really, what more could anybody want? And yet I manage to pack all this comfort and convenience into a boat that is probably shorter than a lot of living rooms. And this wonderful home cost me less than many people would spend on a motor car.

All this is rather wonderful when I am tied up alongside a wharf, but what is even better is that after a day, a week, a month or maybe even a year, I can slip the warps and head off for somewhere quite different. Perhaps even somewhere I’ve never been before. But while I'm getting there, I have my lovely home with me. Then, I drop my anchor and there I am – in a completely new place that is still home. And this little, compact home is so easy to handle, to paint, to find room for, to manage. Why would I want anything bigger?

Small is definitely beautiful.