A post from 2017 in memory of my Dad…
Wanting an allotment bench, I enrol on a woodwork course. Making furniture is in my blood of course. Dad and his Dad before him made all the tables, chairs and monstrous sideboards in their respective homes.
On the first day of the course I’m alarmed to see that all the other participants are male and at least thirty years younger than me. Some have care workers with them. The organiser speaks to me in a slow, loud voice, as if she thinks I have learning difficulties.
I should perhaps have smelt a rat when the application form asked if the course would help me cope better with daily life. But writers are compelled to craft careful replies to questionnaires. So I described in detail (with examples) how gardening and other practical hobbies helped me deal with stress. There was supposed to be a waiting list for the course but I was offered a place immediately.
I survive the first day despite discovering a sobering fact. When people treat you as though you have learning difficulties, you start having learning difficulties.
I commit a ridiculous number of what the French term ‘betises.’ The drill wobbles in my grasp and screws go in aslant. I gouge ugly chunks out of my ‘project’ with the chisel. I try to use a plane upside down and wonder why no wood shavings come out.
Lovely Tom, roofer turned tutor, corrects me gently. He is a gifted, patient teacher with a dark sense of humour and a knack of being there just before someone lops their fingers off with the circular saw or gets dragged across the room by the belt sander. I catch myself hoping he sees me as ‘normal’ (whatever that means).
But in the end, the question of who has ‘issues’ and who hasn’t seems irrelevant. All the group are better at woodwork than me. And they are fatherly despite their youth. They steady planks while I saw wonkily and hold my project while I try to hammer nails in straight. One even offers me the bedside cabinet he has spent five weeks making. Tom gently discourages him. I enrol on the follow-on course and the one after that.
Apart from the bench, which turns out well (it is only a basic one) I make a gate, an outdoor table, two planters and some cross supports for my raspberry canes that turn the allotment into a site of religious pilgrimage.
Dad is unimpressed by my craftswomanship. Instead of being pleased that I’m following in his footsteps, as I’d sentimentally hoped, he views my efforts as an attempt to usurp his role and a poor attempt at that.
‘You’ve used too many screws,’ is his sole comment on my table. ‘Have you got money to burn?’
He is only slightly mollified when I say the wood came from an old pallet and cost nowt. ‘So why spend everything you’ve saved on screws? Especially when nails would have done the job just as well.’
‘The screws only cost a few quid,’ I say, stung.
‘Yes, but it’s the principle of the thing,’ he says.
What about the principle of your daughter wanting to emulate you? I think but don’t say.
He’s probably right though. My attitude is not that of a master craftswoman. My slogan is ‘that’ll do.’ I’m happy if people can sit on my rustic bench without getting a splinter up their backsides. A lowly goal perhaps but enough for me. If the bench falls apart in a year, I will make another one.
I enrol on courses further afield. In Sheffield I whittle a poplar branch into a long handled wooden spoon, ideal for jam making. In Bolton Abbey woods I make a mallet and spatula out of hazel and in the Scottish Borders I make a garden chair out of willow. Out of it all comes a love of wood, and trees.
On the sideboard he made himself, Dad keeps nine little blocks of different woods, planed and polished to show the grain. He often stands (as best he can at 93) and turns them over in his hands. And smiles. I am beginning to understand why.
Drawings by Janis Goodman
Love this
So delighted to hear from the reluctant gardener again! Looking forward to the next instalment…
so are you taking orders?
Brilliant Love it 🙂
Moo, Jacqui, Sue and Lyn – thank you so much for taking the time to read the post and comment so kindly on it! I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.
Sue… if I were you I’d stick to the joiner who made that beautiful shelter in your garden. A far better bet!! 🙂
So happy to hear from The Reluctant Gardener! Yes, woodworking is definitely mental therapy. A carpenter solves as many problems as an engineer working on a project. Wood is a natural product with its own personality. Each species has different characteristics that the woodworker should appreciate.
Some of my friends enjoy wood turning to create bowls and sculpture. Enjoy the satisfaction of creating your own unique art.
Couldn’t agree more, Lamar. Thanks so much for commenting.
Great you’re back Mandy, thanks for this! E x
My pleasure, Elaine. Great to hear from you as always!
I think it’s very appropriate that a reluctant gardener should enrol on such a course. I was impressed by the gate!
Thanks Pete, glad you think so! Always great to hear from you.
Rustic Woodwork – Brill Mandy. I laughed so much I even cried. Really cheered me up. Seriously though, my Dad got into carpentry after he retired and made some lovely furniture for family and friends which was all french polished by himself. He just loved wood and working with it.
So glad my ramblings had a cheering effect on you, Christine! Thank you for such lovely comments. It is heart warming to think of your Dad making furniture too.
So good to see your posts again. I have turned a space in my yard over to two young women who don’t have garden space. It will be fun to see what they do with it, if they follow through. So far they’ve organized and recycled some things that I hadn’t got to… so there’s that. My mantra is “it’s theirs now”.
In other news: drawings – they even sell, which still amazes me – a part time job leading visitors on walks in our countryside, some volunteering, and … indoor plants. Oh, and a fascination with weather. http://josephoregonweather.com/ – here’s ours.
Great to hear from you Kathy and glad that all’s well with you. It is good of you to share your yard – hope that proves mutually beneficial!
Great blog Mand!
Sounds like you’l be putting your Dad to shame soon with your craft skills
Whats your next project?
Great to hear from you J and J. Hope all’s well with you. The shed steps, made out of plywood by my Dad 5 years ago, are looking wonky so that’s my next project. It would be a challenge and could take a few weeks. Or I could just put down some bricks to stand on, which would take a few minutes. Which would you do?
Thanks Mandy. What an inspiring and thoughtful blog. I’ve always fancied working with wood – at the very least it would be good to be able to repair our log store. Confidence is key. I relied so much and for so long on my dad for doing all those types of jobs that it now seems too late to learn. Your example has made me think otherwise and YES to things being ‘good enough’. I think it also might be time for me to resurrect my blog (another great example you’ve provided).
Thanks Mel for such kind and appreciative remarks. It would be great if you took up woodwork (and resurrected your blog). You might be interested in the courses over at The Hive in Shipley – I did a joinery course there, which was good (if tricky) and there’s Chris Tribe in Ilkley. Greenwood working is fun too and there are courses in Sheffield and at our very own Bolton Abbey. Let me know how you get on!
Well done Mandy! I have just made a tall timber gate for my Mum, and feel immeasurably proud of it – even though I got a LOT of help with it from my pal Danny! x
Thanks for commenting, Char. Yes, it’s amazing to make something that has a physical presence and that’s actually useful, isn’t it!
It certainly is! x
Hi Mandy, I always wish they’d taught us something useful at school! But seriously, if you fancy a visit to this side of the North Sea, let me know. I’ve committed to making an inside door (because it needs an arched top and the quote from the carpenter was 2000 euros) – now just to cut that arched top……, could do with your expert advice.
Fay, your faith in me is very touching! 2000 euros – incredible – how hard can it be? 🙂
p.s. where do you live now, Fay? ‘This side of the North Sea’ sounds very intriguing.
Hi Mand,
I have every faith that you could make a replica of your Dads plywood steps!
P.S. if you ever need a router, I have one you can use
Kind regards
Joe/Julie
Thanks for the vote of confidence Joe! Also for the potential lend of the router, a marvellous tool. Hope you’re both well and enjoying the last of the summer.
Just found your site, (I was looking for something to do with preserving apples and foraged fruit), you made me laugh. I don’t know anyone who is normal!
Thank you Su and no, nor do I!
Brilliant! I once made a wooden pencil case (with sliding top) in woodwork at school. It was subsequently used as a hamster coffin – recycling in the 1950s!!
That is brilliant, John. A sliding top, too… what a magnificent send off for your hamster!
This is lovely, Mandy.I didnt know,when I visited your beautiful allotment, that you d actually made your gorgeous gate and comfy seat! You are a woman of many talents, indeed!
I went to a similar class to learn how to make stained glass windows your experience really resonates with me.
It’s so true that if people treat you in a certain way you begin to BE like that. It’s the same when you go to a hospital for a routine checkup and as soon as you’ve put on that hospital gown you feel like you’re suffering from the most dreaded illness es under the sun !!
Love your writing, as always. You always manage that fine balance of humour and pathos so very well.
Coffee again ,soon ? Xxx
Hi Liz, that’s so true about how it feels to put on the hospital gown! Thank you so much for these lovely comments. I’d love a coffee soon. We have put up a gazebo in our garden and it hasn’t blown away – yet – so perhaps we can sit under it together xx
My granddad (Mum’s Dad) was a master cabinet maker and he (and now my Mum) used to handle and stroke wood like your Dad did. I developed a love of bang and bodge it from my Dad who once tried to present his father-in-law with a worm-eaten basket. Mum headed him off at the pass and took him straight to the bottom of the garden and burnt it – she told him, in no uncertain terms, that if he’d got that into the house ‘The marriage would have been off!’ I’m seriously impressed with you goingon so many courses – must get myself on summat when Covid is vanquished. C xx
Oh that’s a coincidence Char, as my Granddad (Dad’s Dad) was a master cabinet maker too! That is a wonderful story about your Dad and his early attempts at impressing his future father-in-law!! Yes I love doing courses. I really like learning things, doesn’t really matter what it is as long as it’s practical and involves handling materials. An antidote perhaps to writing? Let me know what you find course-wise! XX