The Boatshed part - the first waves broke gently on Grimsay's shoreline as cobwebs were being spun in the morning dew Grandad Mckenzie was in his boatshed a skilled artisan, he was one of the few surrounded by pipe smoke and old school geometry a low sun brings out medullary rays in the oak the coach bolts are ready for the second fixing if he can see what he's doing through a veil of smoke eighty degrees and yet another coat of paint with no dust extraction or protective gear this artist in wood could make it bend and turn the days reward - a cigar and a beer the decking was made of the finest Douglas Fir marked out and squared off in indelible stain with meticulous care all of the edges were true a hull as solid as his hands were on the plane he lived in constant fear of making a mistake tho for every problem there was always an answer mostly solved by his smoke stained bevel gauge the hull was complete when he was diagnosed with cancer his final days were spent tapering th...