Living on a canal boat, in a pandemic, with a baby
Surviving lockdown on the water in our very own ark

When Kim and Adam moved onto a boat in London, they didn’t realise they’d end up having their first child while still living on it. Even further from their minds was the possibility that within their daughter's first year a global pandemic would erupt around the world which would confine them onboard. This is Kim's story of what it's like to first have a baby and then spend lockdown living on a 64-foot narrowboat with her husband and a toddler...
Our home

We bought our boat home in 2016. Snipe (named after the bird) is a 64-foot narrowboat built in 1988, and we fell in love with her the moment we saw her. Inside there's a living room with a wood-burning stove, a kitchen, two bathrooms (serious luxury, believe me), a double bedroom and a back room that has variously been used as a shed, office, studio and latterly, nursery.
Pregnant! On a boat!

After three years afloat we wanted to start a family but were concerned it wasn't a sensible idea to stay on the boat. When we looked into it, though, it turned out lots of families live on boats, and with the housing crisis in London pushing more and more couples in their early 30s onto the canals, there’s something of a boom of babies being born to boaters. We figured we had a good boat and were used to the lifestyle – so we decided to go for it.
Baby on board

There are some provisions for boating mothers, it turns out. You can reduce the amount you need to move the boat, and are allowed to stop for a few weeks in one place to allow you to access a hospital for the birth and recovery. We chose St Mary’s Hospital in Paddington and moored up in Little Venice, a short (though quite long when in labour) walk away. We ended up staying for a couple of months – not a bad place to start life.
Kitting out the boat for a baby

Sleeping arrangements

After an uncomfortable few weeks, we finally discovered a folding cot – The Alma by Bloom – which was literally the smallest cot on the internet and the only one that fit to-the-millimetre in the space at the end of the bed. It wasn’t ideal, we had to climb around it to get to the back of the boat, but it meant the baby had her own sleep space and we could work on getting her into her own room (which we didn’t manage until nine months).
Keeping on top of the cleaning

Weaning the baby

The next big event came in weaning. There is absolutely no room for a highchair on board. We started with a booster chair that sat on our table, briefly tried an IKEA highchair that just took up too much floor space and finally settled on a cool clip-on, canvas option that clamps onto the table. Blending and pureeing food was also a challenge. I could only do it at certain times of the day when we had enough solar power.
Bath time in a tiny space

Bath time is a hilarious logistical nightmare. We only need a small amount of water so it makes more sense to boil a kettle than turn the gas boiler on. We end up filling the fold-up bath in front of the fire with water from the kettle. Forget 1970s, we’re back in the ‘40s! Like us, the baby doesn’t get washed as much as she might if she lived in a flat…
The lockdown

The lockdown changed things. We are lucky that we were on a mooring, so had running water and plugged-in electricity, and we don’t have people walking past our boat the whole time – a big problem from those living on the towpath throughout Central London. But with social distancing measures in place, we’re all three now cramped into our little space.
The office

Working from home is a different story for us now. Where once we could pop to a café to get some work done, and use its Wi-Fi, we are both trying to work in the boat. Using our mobiles as hotspots and trying to stop our toddler, as she now is, climbing into the bin is a step change. And desk space. What desk space? It's a constant juggle and there is some doubt about whether the amount of data we're using costs more than we're actually earning.
Social distancing on the water

Social distancing while boating is... hard. Our London Boaters community group shares guidelines including wearing gloves around water points and when using locks and other facilities and wiping down anything you've touched with disinfectant after you've used it. You just have to hope everyone is sticking to this. While under lockdown, we didn't have to move our boats as often, so there weren't as many boats on the move as you'd usually see.
The boating community

Preserving power

We're off-grid, so we generate our own power using two huge solar panels on the roof. They generate enough electricity to power our 12-volt boat fridge, our lights and all our appliances. We have converters to charge bigger items and USB sockets for phones and smaller electronics. Because of the amount of power we're using to keep laptops and other equipment running we sometimes have to run the engine to generate extra power, something we'd never normally do in summer.
Toilet arrangements

One of the most obsessive things boaters talk about is the, ahem, facilities. There are various types of toilet you can have – a chemical loo, a pump-out with holding tank, or a compost. I’d love a compost loo but we inherited two pump-out toilets on Snipe, and that beats the chemical loo you have to empty yourself if you ask me! I'm feeling smug because I already get my toilet rolls through a plastic-free subscription service (delivered to my parents) so we have plenty of supplies.
Cooking with gas

Our galley kitchen is pretty much the same as the one you’d find in a small flat. We have a small gas cooker with four burners, grill and oven. We make tea using a stovetop kettle and toast under the grill (broiler). We have a fridge and cupboards and a plumbed-in sink for the mountains of washing-up. Gas is piped in from pressurised canisters safely stored in a gas compartment at the front of the boat. We have two and always try to replace the empty one immediately so we never run out.
Lockdown menus

Cooking three meals a day for us and the baby has really challenged our small kitchen, not to mention the mountains of washing-up. We have become very strategic in what we cook (one-pot recipes where possible!) and meal planning has become a family sport. Our tiny fridge is stuffed with food containers and making provisions last as long as we can is essential, as there's not much room to store shopping.
Securing essential supplies

With no delivery address, getting everything we need can be a pain. There are boats that run through London regularly selling coal, wood and kindling, as well as diesel for the engine and gas. They're our key workers and have operated throughout the lockdown. Groceries are more of a challenge. With no car or freezer space, it's hard to do a 'big shop' in person so we have to sneakily put in a local postcode when we do online deliveries and rush out to meet the driver before they get lost.
Working the system

What if we catch the virus?

Close contact

It's hard to keep your distance from fellow boaters on boats close to your own. We live in close quarters and the community is very interactive. Our neighbour bakes us bread, and there's always something you need to borrow. To begin with, we really pulled back from this but as everyone has been isolating for months now, we're cautiously accepting things like home-baked bread again. We're still careful about hand washing, and despite many hopeful arms, we're not passing the baby around for cuddles yet.
Surprise coronavirus benefits

There have been some positives to come out of coronavirus. Like lots of children around the country, our toddler now has constant access to both her parents. And we’re able to do some really nice things together as an isolated family. We can feed the ducks from the bow without even having to leave our home. We can go out on the canoe as our daily exercise. And if we don’t feel safe or isolated enough where we are we can move our boat somewhere more remote. Open space – particularly open water – is very calming in this situation.
Slowing down

Another benefit of slowing down is appreciating the small things around us. We’ve spent the last few years training ourselves to do this. The boat is very good mindfulness training and enforces a schedule. It has had to be moved every two weeks, it has had to be tended. Overall, I think it’s good for us. So now this is enforced on all of us, we’re coping fairly well because it’s something we’re used to. We were already tied down, to the boat and the baby.
The good life

The downsides

An uncertain time

We are reaping the benefits of the life we’ve chosen, but also dealing with the hardships – now more than ever. The future feels very uncertain for all of us right now so I feel lucky that we own our own home, which gives me some sense of stability. I feel confident that we can give our child a happy life onboard, though perhaps it will be for longer than we originally planned.
The future

At some point, the balance may change and we may decide it’s time to pack in the oars and move onto dry land. Whatever happens, I think that our relationships as a family are stronger for all this. We are used to living very close together and are good at it. It’s probably made us more affectionate and patient, because we have to be. Hopefully, it will make our daughter feel very secure as she grows up, be that on land or on water.
Read more: the man who spent lockdown in his own private ghost town
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