[NetBehaviour] Barry’s Galleon Ship Disaster

[marc.garrett]

Barry’s Galleon Ship Disaster

Barry, my father, was a man of varied interests and very much into his hobbies. Some of them were illegal. For instance, a few times, he was caught exposing himself in the streets to women he fancied. He sold rugs and was also a pyromaniac. He would often vanish for days and weeks, either because he was in prison or away at a secretive and menacing awayday with his black magic group. There are stories my mum told me about him, where they’d kidnap individuals in a black transit van. But I’m not sure if that’s true. There is so much about him that is so outlandishly unbelievable. But, the bits of evidence I know are the events that have materially changed my life. He was a local legend, and his reputation overshadowed the rest of the family.

Whenever we walked around town, it was a strange experience for me, my younger brother, and my mum. Some people who knew about us and Barry’s unprincipled activities would keep their distance as if we were about to infect them with a dark, evil curse. Sometimes, it was isolating, like we were pariahs, but at other times, there was an essence of empowerment due to the feeling that people were afraid of us. The problem with being marked as different, scary or dangerous is that it attracts the types of individuals who find the notion of it exciting for them, and when you're a young child, that’s the last thing you need.

It was emotionally reassuring when Barry engaged his talents with less insidious ventures. A hobby of his that also involved me now and then was his plane-spotting exploits. He would take me to the airport to watch planes landing and flying off. He watched it all through his binoculars while noting the observed aircraft in his notepad. I was bored, and he was always very excited. His fascination with planes extended to model making. He was incredibly proud that he made his model planes from scratch, not assembly kits. He would buy balsa wood and cut it with a craft knife to make model aircraft. He made many different types. Some would be painfully intricate biplanes replicating the Wright brothers’ first successful aeroplane launched in 1903 to WW11 aircraft, which seemed less detailed but still displayed high quality and artful technique. These were the moments I remember as notable when he was calm and lost in his craft. He was good at it, and you could feel how enchanted he was by the whole experience.

Another recreation Barry enjoyed was painting. Just like he was obsessed with aircraft in the singular sense, he spent much of his creative time on oil painting. His primary focus was Galleon ships, huge, multi-decked sailing ships and armed cargo carriers from the 16th to 18th centuries. Again, he was mesmerised by his chosen subject and spent many hours painting different galleon scenes in sea-based settings, with large waves crashing at the side of the vessels. It was all very dramatic. One day, I entered the room as he painted his latest masterpiece with a slow, intense dedication to detail. I suddenly noticed something with all the paintings. I nervously twitched, knowing how proud he was of them.

I wasn’t sure whether to tell him what I had spotted. But I had to. I couldn’t help myself. I told him nervously that the ships had no wind in their sails; they were straight, not as breezy as they should be in turbulent winds. He stopped painting, slowly gazed at all his works, and dropped his arm holding the paintbrush. Barry released a big sigh, and then the room fell silent. He turned round and looked at me with a deep hatred, and it felt like his eyes were burrowing into my skull. Then, he flipped and smashed up all his canvases amongst other objects in the room. Thankfully, he didn’t hit me. He may have been talented at many things, but painting wasn’t one of them.
A section from the book Feral Class by Marc Garrett. To be published by Minor Compositions in 2025.
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