Two and a half years ago, I was off work, having hit the buffers … burnt out.  A colleague, Sarah, knowing about my fondness of poetry, had recommended the book “The Poetry of Presence.”  

The book arrived on the eve of a visit I had arranged to attend an Open Day at the IBTC. That evening, as I picked up the book, it fell open at Judy Brown’s poem ‘Wooden Boats’ 

WOODEN BOATS

I have a brother who builds wooden boats,
Who knows precisely how a board
Can bend or turn, steamed just exactly
Soft enough so he, with help of friends,
Can shape it to the hull.

The knowledge lies as much
Within his sure hands on the plane
As in his head;
It lies in love of wood and grain,
A rough hand resting on the satin
Of the finished deck.

Is there within us each
Such artistry forgotten
In the cruder tasks
The world requires of us,
The faster modern work
That we have
Turned our life to do?

Could we return to more of craft
Within our lives,
And feel the way the grain of wood runs true,
By letting our hands linger
On the product of our artistry?
Could we recall what we have known
But have forgotten,
The gifts within ourselves,
Each other too,
And thus transform a world
As he and friends do,
Shaping steaming oak boards
Upon the hulls of wooden boats?

That poem … that timing, struck a chord in me.  It resonated with all that I envisaged in the art and skill of boatbuilding, working with wood, and developing skills to use hand tools.   The Open Day affirmed my decision, to make a change in my life that I had previously seen as an option after retirement, but now one that I should take as soon as practicable.

I contacted Judy, asking if I could use her poem in my Blog, and she kindly agreed.  We exchanged a few emails and in one of those she told me that she and her husband were visiting England, and would be staying in a place that they had been visiting each year for several years: The Sawmill in Beaminster.  Looking up the details, I could see why visiting this tiny quaint little property had become an annual treat.  I made a note that we should visit when we had the opportunity.

Having finished the course this February, I set to, with various woodworking projects, and Sylvia started working from home due to the ‘The Lockdown.’  This period became for us, as with many others, a time of loss of social contact … a loss of human touch; and too, a time for reflection, and taking stock.  

Sylvia was weighing up the pros and cons of returning to work in the office, or of finishing work altogether.  One day, as she was struggling with this dilemma, I reminded her that when I was off work, she had told our financial advisor in 2018 that there was no point retiring with me, because I would be doing a full-time boatbuilding course.  

“Yes, that’s right,” she replied. After a pause, I asked: “And now?”  

That question “And now?” seemed to unlock the tangle of emotions and practical considerations.  Sylvia handed in her notice a few days later.

Last week we managed, at last, to get away for a week’s break at The Sawmill.  

Having settled in, I sent an email to Judy, to tell her we were there, and she was thrilled.  After an exchange of emails, I suggested a Zoom meeting so that we could ‘meet’ for the first time, and so that I could show her around the cottage. Judy readily agreed.  

So it was, that on Friday, we had a virtual meeting, and shared news and stories.   Judy read us a poem she had written about a walk to nearby Netherbury, and we told her how, only that very morning, we had visited the place she described in this poem:

AND IT TURNED OUT LIKE THIS

All those poems

written when

I didn’t know

how it would

all turn out – 

written from 

my fear and

my anxiety.

And it turned out like this – a day

in England

hiking hills,

the brilliant sun 

carving sharp shadows

underneath the trees, 

the church bell ringing, 

and a picnic

in the

shelter of a 

vast old tree,

its trunk serving as

back rest as we

eat our cheese and apple.

It all turned out 

like this.

Judy went on to ask: “What about you, Sylvia? Are you working?”  We recounted the story.  That question “And now?” sparked a long discussion about questions that challenge us, and which set me thinking.  

So here is my reflection, and a poem that I would like to dedicate and give to Judy, to reciprocate and thank her for her work’s impact upon my life: 

INERTIA

Back then,

You could not take that step,

Because …

And now ..?