A photo in an old album brought it back to me.
A younger Morgan, this must have been in the late 90s, in Sally’s cockpit, cradling a lump of wood, which I can tell you was iroko. In my hand a Japanese rasp, the kind that consists of what look like hacksaw blades, riveted together, one side coarse, the other fine. Those who are familiar with wooden boats of that era, ie pre-war, will notice Sally has no bumpkin, or should that be bumkin, or even boomkin? It’s a cute little spar that adds to the fees harbour masters charge, the mean ones, though usually they don’t notice. It’s missing and the lump of iroko is being fashioned, laboriously, with the only tool aboard, luckily the one that will transform…