We wanted a plinth.
For some time, we have wanted one., desperately wanted one. In fact, we
wanted two of them. So, we hand-cut two circles on a bandsaw. (Making
a jig was simply too 
much
effort for such little work. We thought we could cut within 1/64 of the
line and then, sand imperfections.) Here's what our plinths looked like
at this stage—
Both circles seemed OK, and the edges were smooth. Encouraged, we readily took the next step to convert our mahogany circles into stylish plinths. We rounded over the edges and left a small ridge on top. This, too, was progress, or so we thought. And just to see how the plinth might add to our hardware, we put the brass dome light and our cabin fan next to what would soon become the plinth for each.
Everything began to look promising. Encouraged, once more we set out
to add further detail. We even put a little oil on our plinths. (Plinths,
too, must have respect, you know. Just because a plinth is easy to make,
it need not be shoddy.
We were pleased with our pitiful effort at plinth-making. Encouraged, we decided to mount the plinths on the underdeck, immediately over what would later become our berth. Here is what the plinths looked like—
Having completed the wiring, our next step was to mount both the dome
light and the fan. Plinths may be nice to look at, may be that extra detail
that impresses friend and foe alike, but a plinth 
without
a corresponding appurtenance is like a fish without water. Plinths must
be functional. Otherwise, why have a plinth aboard ship?
Finally, the plinths had come into their own. What was once a lowly piece of neglected wood had now become a true nautical accent piece.
The dome light looked epecially promising; the poor fan almost, respectable.
The next question, however, is whether the plinth will ever be noticed
once the cabin has been completed. That's a good point, of course, I mean,
why go to the little effort it takes to make a plinth if no one will ever
truly notice?
The answer, of course, is that well-made plinths are well-behaved plinths.
A plinth should be seen but never heard. We wanted a plinth, but we wanted
a plinth that people would not see unless they looked closely. We wanted
our plinths to remain in quiet and subdued elegance.
"What about plimsole?" you ask. Actually, a plimsole is just
a rubber-soled sneaker. You might say that I just snuck the word in on
you. When you say plinth and plimsole together, it almost sounds as if
you have said something important, very important indeed— when,
of course, you haven't.
Back Yard Yacht Builders
A non-commercial association of amateur boat-builder enthusiasts.
All our wooden boats are Stevenson designs.