Boat building paid for my first home’
I grew up in Devon in a poor family and was home-schooled. I didn’t do well academically but I knew one thing: I wanted to be successful at something. A boatbuilding apprenticeship in Essex was on offer, so I bought a oneway Megabus ticket and arrived with a few bags containing all my belongings. I lived in a flat-share and cycled to work, paying my rent by working in the evenings at a local foundry (says Abbey Molyneux, 34).
It was hard. Not everyone was welcoming. At first, they wouldn’t let me do much, saying I was a girl and too small, or that I couldn’t handle the work.
What they didn’t know was that while they were taunting me, I was learning and taking notes. The shipwright’s parting words were, “You’ll only ever be able to build small boats.” I’ve now built more boats with my tiny hands than he did in his entire life.
After my apprenticeship, I moved to Dennett Boat Builders on the Thames, where I lived aboard a £2,000 motor cruiser. My fortunes changed when I became the protégé of the owner, Steve Dennett. For seven years, I stuck to him like glue, soaking up knowledge as the only woman on a team of 14.
One memorable project was the restoration of a Dunkirk Little Ship; it had rescued Allied soldiers in the Second World War. It arrived at the yard infested with mice.
I was so dedicated that I even worked on Christmas Day, laying a teak deck simply because I loved it. By the end, we had completely transformed her.
For the first three years, I was trained to build solely by eye — no instructions, no measuring. If Steve caught me using a tape measure, he threw it in the river.
I learnt to understand a boat’s curvature, its timbers and its limits.
Life afloat was tough, though, without a bathroom or kitchen, and with money running out, I sold my boat, Whitemouse, for an £8,000 profit, and relocated to Norfolk, armed with a motorbike, some tools and about £100 to my name. I made a simple, firm vow. I would earn my way to the four things I wanted — a truck, a house, a dog and my own boatyard.
I landed in Norfolk in 2021 with nothing but my boat-building skills.
Three months in, a farmer offered me a caravan on his land. After I shared my story, he went a step further and gave me a barn to work from. My first project was his magnificent 1932, 43ft wooden Norfolk Broads cruiser. For 102 days, I poured myself into the restoration, crafting ribs from a single oak tree felled on his farm. I worked to the point of exhaustion, joking that I had arms like Popeye, even as they grew too tired to lift the varnish brush. The Queen of Light was not only shown at the Henley Boat Show but also served as the founding project to launch my business, Abbey Boat Builder.
I bought more tools and began to attract customers. In my first year, I turned over £60,000, which eventually led to signing a lease on a new boatyard in Reedham. The yard cost me £150,000, which I didn’t have a penny of when I did the negotiations, so I just kept building and invoicing, and soon I had a fleet of trucks and cranes moving me in.
Since starting my business, I’ve restored more than 100 boats.
After years of not living in a house, I’ve finally bought my first home, for £180,000. It’s a stark contrast to life on the water. I hadn’t realised how exhausting it was, constantly being kicked off moorings, worrying about the weather. Now, I love my bed in my own house. But for me, boats are my true home, where I find my deepest joy. I started with nothing but a few clothes in a bag and I kept at it. Now I have my own business and a home made of bricks.
As told to Annie Hayes
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