Vinegar & Piss

I am looking into the basement gallery of the Sunday Painter. The ceiling goes up two storeys. I can see the glass of the shopfront windows, way up there. I can’t really step into the space of the gallery itself — almost all of it is taken up by a huge wooden boat. It’s swollen, wall to wall to wall and floor to ceiling (probably). My Mum is standing next to me and we look together, bottom to the…