With house prices showing no sign of dropping, life on London’s canal boats seems more appealing than ever. We went down to the waterfront to find out how it works.

Growing up near a canal, I always assumed that the colourful canal boats and barges that lined up along the towpath were more for tourists than anyone else. It never occurred to me that they might be actual homes, which seems strange to think now, but times have definitely changed. As I stepped off the Caledonian Road and wandered down the path to Regent’s Canal, it was hard to spot a vessel that wasn’t clearly lived in – roofs festooned with box gardens, ornate chairs that looked less like garden furniture than restored antiques. There was a sense of thriving community here that I don’t recall seeing in the past.

It’s not a new story, of course. With London housing prices up 19 percent in the last year alone, more and more young people are leaving the capital or looking for alternative ways to make a life here. Surveys carried out by the Canal and River Trust suggest that there could be as many as 11,000 people living on Britain’s waterways now, and a brief walk through Little Venice demonstrates how many are embracing boat life as an affordable way to stay afloat in the big smoke.

‘Initially my partner and I were seduced by the seemingly romantic and quaint way of life,’ explains Lily Bodoh, the founder of Bodoh Bakes, who moors her 43-footer near Victoria Park. ‘We always thought it looked like a much slower pace of life, as well as a way to stay in London, where we are both from, without paying the ridiculous house prices that we simply cannot afford.’ As with some of the other boaters we spoke to, Lily’s decision was inspired by friends who had already taken the plunge. It’s certainly tempting to the observer, but anyone considering it must have serious questions over the pros and cons of life as a canal dweller.

‘There are challenges,’ says musician Riccardo Vitalone, strumming a guitar and watching the world wander by further upstream, ‘but challenges can also be seen as lessons, pushing you to not be lazy, to not take things for granted, and to make the most of what little you have. I remember living in an apartment, and I wasn’t necessarily happier. Living on a boat, you realise that the environment matters only up to a certain point.’

Similarly, Lily sees the challenges in a positive light: ‘It has made us much more aware of the resources we have. If you’re not aware of what you’re using, you can end up falling short of something that is vital to your daily needs – no water, no shower, no washing up. It has been a real lesson for us in not expecting to have all our necessities on an endless supply. The way the world is going I think we all need to try harder to use fewer resources and consume only what we need. Boat life introduces you to that very quickly!’

It’s interesting that both Riccardo and Lily chose life on a narrowboat as a means to pursue alternative career paths. The low cost of living allows them to work part time, so they have more time to develop their own interests. ‘I used to work in a busy café five days a week,’ says Riccardo, ‘and it really drained me. My two days off would be nothing – just getting my energy back. Living on a boat means that I get more done. I wake up, go to a wi-fi café, use the time to make something or make arrangements to get stuff done.’

Inevitably, this being the Box Room, our conversation turns to how to live better in small spaces. ‘The issue with storage will always be a constant battle,’ admits Lily. ‘Trying to think of new ways to keep everything hidden and tucked away to create as much space as possible – that’s the challenge. We do have a fair bit of cupboard space and foldaway table, chairs and bed, which is great for opening up the space.’ Ultimately, she tends to agree with Riccardo: moving onto a boat is a great opportunity to learn about what you can do without, what you can put away. To use a term we often hear at Boxman, when it comes to de-cluttering, it’s not necessarily goodbye – it’s see you later.

As I prepare to disembark, I sense there’s something symbolic in returning to dry land – as if crossing the bow of the boat draws a line under my very brief adventure on the waves. I wonder whether the canal community feels any sense of permanence – whether it’s a sustainable way of living. ‘Perhaps if our parents moved out of London,’ says Lily, ‘or if we ever wanted children, then we would probably want a much bigger boat or a house. But at the moment, we are enjoying ourselves a lot being canal dwellers.’ As I step back onto the bustle of the Caledonian Road, with its ‘for sale’ signs slung low across my field of vision, I can certainly see the attraction.

This article, as with all articles on The Box Room, was brought to you by Boxman, the on-demand storage people.