Page 68 - recollections of a life in Porthleven

afternoons. Dad would have his pasty, work again for an hour and tell me
he had to meet up with some one, told me what else could be done, and left
me to get on with it. I asked Gran what was up with Dad, going out
Wednesday evenings and again on Saturdays. Her reply made me take a deep
breath and ask myself why he hadn’t told me himself. Dad had a lady friend
and she was called Opal. We were all pleased for Dad as he had been a
widower for many years after the death of our dear Mother.

During Dad’s evening dates with Opal work carried on with the boat and
after just over 14 months of hard work our boat was ready for her launch.
Rollers were put under her so she could be rolled from the back of the stores
out onto the quay where she could have a slings fitted around her and lowered
into the water by a crane, but when she got to the double doors of the Store
we had a big problem. When she was being build she must have sprung from
the moulds as she was now 4 inches larger than the door opening!! What a
predicament, the boat we built was too big to fit through the door opening!
A few men panicked but not my Dad. After a few scratches to his head and
a broad smile, Dad, Henry, Kenneth and the others removed the great heavy
doors, a few measurements were taken from the ground up to the rubbing
sticks on the boat. Those measurements were transferred to the door jams.
Then Dad cut out and removed part of the door jams where the rubbing streak
(a radius wood band, around the widest part of the boat) would have to pass.
Then slowly the boat was pushed up to the door and with great relief for
everyone, she went through. The only damage done was paint scratched off
from the brass on top of the rubbing streaks. Brass was fitted on top of the
streaks to help protect the wood.

When she was lowered into the water a cheer went up and hands were shaken,
so much so I was concerned for Dad’s arm. After all he had to swing the
starting handle on the engine to start it up. A great evening was had by
everyone. She looked spectacular (in my eyes) on her moorings that evening
as she did every time we looked at her. She was called ‘Our Janice’ after my
Dad’s grand-daughter (and my niece) and her number was PZ228. Why are
boats and ships always known as ‘her’? I was told, ‘she’s got a hole in her
bilge to let the water out’ I will never forget my time spent with my Dad and
other Porthleven men building ‘Our Janice’.