Between Worlds Members’ Post

Once upon a time, right at the beginning, I thought The Lifeboat Station Project would take me three years to complete.

Now we know the full enormity of the task, that timescale seems laughable with the benefit and clarity of hindsight (not to mention the global events that have impacted us since).

However, I did genuinely believe that I would be able to do it in that timeframe and I often wonder if I would’ve taken the task on if I had known how long it would take to see it through.

We’ll never know, of course, and nor do we need to know. The fact is that I have taken it on and I’m immensely proud of what I’ve made so far.

Lately, though, I’ve found myself within a microcosm of the project and another mission that I underestimated: moving studio.

As you may remember, I’ve been based at Hoults Yard in Byker for over 20 years.

Indeed, the 20^th anniversary was in December and on that very morning, I sat down at my desk and thought:

“Wow. I’ve been here for 20 years.“

It’s been such a huge chapter in my working life and very strange to think that I was only 27 years old when I took on my first unit there (I erroneously wrote ’26’ years old in Issue 36 of the newsletter).

Just moments after those nostalgic thoughts, a breezy email arrived from The Management informing me that they intend to renovate the building so they were serving me the contractual 2 months’ notice to move out.

It was time for us tenants to make way.

My heart sank.

I wasn’t ready for that at all and I certainly wasn’t feeling the need for another period of upheaval.

I’d been based in that particular studio (my third on the yard) for a decade and it formed the foundation of a well-oiled machine.

Furthermore, it had become a sanctuary, a working environment entirely shaped and honed by me over many years.

Although I was offered the opportunity to look at other spaces on the yard, I took it as the shove I needed to seek a cheaper alternative in the unravelling economic climate.

So that’s what I did and eventually the answer came in the form of a ground floor studio less than half a mile away.

Perfect.

In February, I shared the news with you but it went a little pear-shaped from that moment.

I optimistically wrote:

“I expect to be fully-installed and operational in my new studio within a couple of weeks’ time.“

How wrong I was!

Indeed, as I type these words, I’m still a way off being fully-installed and operational.

I wasn’t able to gain access until a week later at which point my wife and mother-in-law swiftly gave the new place a fresh lick of paint.

It soon became clear that I should replace the tatty vinyl flooring too. It would be an extra expense but worthwhile at that stage before starting to move everything across.

If you’ve been following along in our app, you’ll know that’s when the problems really started!

When Callum and I started pulling up the old vinyl, much of the crumbly old screed came up with it and once that happened, there was no turning back.

It hit me unusually hard in those moments and I felt really despondent about the whole situation.

Life’s been so pressured lately that I just needed this move to be as simple as possible. But, within just a few seconds, a whole new layer of complication and expense had been unleashed.

I found myself trapped between worlds, the worlds of my old and new studios.

Hey ho. There was nothing for it but to knuckle down and do my best to resolve the situation.

I felt so lucky to have Callum helping me. Fresh back from 3¹/₂ years in New Zealand, he’s been a sparky ball of energy and has really helped to keep me going.

To cut a long story short, the new vinyl was finally laid at the end of last month and I was then able to start the move from Hoults Yard.

Once again, the ease with which I can type those words utterly belies the enormity of that particular task — just think of all the glass plates and everything else that goes with the project, including the huge pieces of furniture and heavy equipment.

My old studio is on the first floor too with some steep stairs to navigate. Thankfully, we’ve just been given the use of an ancient service lift. We can now load it up and send the heaviest things down, although we’re not allowed to travel in it!

We’re thanking our lucky stars that the new place is on the ground floor too (something I’ve always hankered after) and we rejoice in how much more quickly we can unload Neena at the other end.

It all feels like an uncanny metaphor for life itself — the world before March 2020 and the time in between whatever’s coming next.

None of it’s been ideal, particularly as I’ve found myself renting two studios during the overlap, but we soldier on as always and we’ll get there in the end.

After all, what was it the founder of the RNLI said way back in 1824?

Ah, yes, that’s it:

“With courage, nothing is impossible.“

And what was that other famous mantra?

Ah, yes, I remember now:

“Keep on keepin’ on.“

Jack

Newcastle upon Tyne, 16^th April 2023