For me and Mrs. Rust, the answer is 69 feet and 4 inches exactly,no more and no less. Before we decoupled from our land life, our setup could easily have stretched closer to 140 feet to accommodate all our accumulated junk. Now, our boat is split fairly 50/50. Mrs. R’s 50% is entirely filled with her handbag and shoe collection, while my 50% share is shared equally with Mr. R. Consequently, I have been happily living in the engine room for the past 27 years (and I am convinced we can beat Smellie's record). My advice to any wannabe narrowboat liveaboard who currently boasts a long hallway in their home is wonderfully straightforward: Take every single earthly possession you own and cram it directly into the corridor, designating your front door as the official boat entrance. Toss a mattress on the floor, slap a few round pictures of scenic and industrial landscapes on the walls, and keep a handy bucket nearby to handle all your urgent business. To truly capture the authentic atmosphere, spill a generous amount of water across the floor to emulate the inevitable leaks, throw in all your pets for good measure, and crank a heater on full blast in the summer to replicate the glorious cabin heat,complemented, naturally, by the air conditioning on full blast in the winter. Just make sure there is a massive, soul sucking puddle of muddy water waiting right outside your threshold. To complete the authentic maritime illusion, simply stash a ton of coal under your bed, keep a spare bowl full of poo within arm's reach, and scatter a few gas bottles about to keep things exciting. If you find you can easily live in this corridor for a week you're good to go,and can continue to shorten the corridor until you have either killed your partner or given up. For true authenticity,if you have an obliging neighbour with a loud Petrol generator,get them to fire it up at 10 pm and waft fumes through your letterbox.
