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Now the real work begins

The quiet period after Christmas and into January is for us a time for experimenting and trying new things.
To kick off this year I've spent a couple of days making a travisher : a tool particular to Windsor chairmaking that shaves a spherical hollow . . . like a chair seat or a spoon bowl perhaps . . .
Of course now that I've made it, I have to learn to use it . . .
When I trained as a dentist (many years ago) we didn't just do the tooth stuff we also learnt the basics of the accessory trades as well . . . crown and bridge, dentures and orthodontic appliances. It's a good system I think giving a greater appreciation and depth of knowledge of your own field. So although I'll never be a tool maker I've made a knife and a plane and now a travisher . . .
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December longing

I long for January. December is cold and wet, which would be ok if it wasn't overshadowed by the incessant Christmas advertising : advertising nothing more than spending money on artificial crap so that somebody somewhere can make a profit.
Like a relationship that is going nowhere I'm over that type of Christmas and more than ready to move on to the crisp cold days of January . . .
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Imperfect

Learning and (hopefully) improving is a two edged sword. My idea of what I want to carve is always that little bit beyond my skill to produce it, so I am always chasing perfection.
But I find it is easy to get caught up in that chase and constantly have to pull back and wait . . . after a couple of days, when I see a spoon afresh it always looks better than it looked when carving it.
I have a few tricks that help me in this. I carve fast (so as not to think too much) and I carve a spoon in one sitting, not returning later to "refine" it.
I also leave spoons to dry on my kitchen counter so I see them repeatedly, from all angles and lights as I pass by.
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sunday reading

I've always thought that cookery, slojd and gardening are very similar disciplines. All three involve skills that whilst very simple, and very natural are ones that in the pursuit of profit, we've been encouraged to forget . . . Each time I carve a spoon though or cook something from scratch I'm reminded that I have more power than I think. It comes in an attitude of mind and in those small decisions we make every minute of every day . . .
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bookshop cards

One thing that lockdown has taught me is how lucky we are here to have small independent shops and farmers markets.
Places where the owner, the person you speak to is totally invested in what they do and knowledgeable about what they sell.
As part of a collective our shop is even closer to the maker : we are the makers here behind the counter. But unlike the farmers market in the shop I am only here an afternoon a week and we don't each have a full depth of knowledge of what the others do.
Which got me thinking . . . have you noticed in bookshops how they often have cards describing selected books on the shelf ?
I like them : it adds that depth to your experience in the shop. So taking that idea I have added cerds to my own shop display, handwritten of course, to put my items in context. I mean a small bowl is a small bowl but a drinking bowl is something different . . .
It'll be interesting to see how this idea goes.
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Mingei

I get great pleasure in using a well made object, particularly those made by a craftsperson. There's a joy in using something considered but not precious; where each facet, each curve and hollow has been placed deliberately and then left. It's something that only comes with time and repetition and from deliberate practice . . . and probably why I'll carve the same shape again and again always seeking that simplicity and perfection . . . I'll never get there of course but that's not the point
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Stock

I do like a song that starts gradually. One instrument will begin alone, it's part complete on it's own but also containing gaps that the other instruments fill one by one to create the whole song.
In cooking a good stock is like that first instrument. It will have enough complexity and depth to enjoy alone but you know that there is also room to add more ingredients and create a new fuller dish.
This stock is my adaptation of one by Will Yeung from youtube.
Roughly chop an Onion and start to fry in coconut oil at a medium heat.
Split a head of Garlic in two then cut one half through the middle and add to the saucepan.
Saute for ten minutes or so at a medium heat so that the vegetables soften and brown but not burn.
Roughly chop two sticks of Celery and a small potato and add to the pan along with a couple of Cherry tomatoes and a teaspoon of salt. Continue cooking for another ten minutes.
Roughly chop up four mushrooms, stir them in and follow with a litre and a quarter of water.
Bring the heat up to a boil then turn it down to a gentle simmer and leave there slowly cooking for a couple of hours.
You should end up with a lovely savoury liquid that you just cannot resist repeatedly tasting.
Lastly strain the stock through a seive to remove all of the veg (which gets composted), into a storage jar. It'll keep up to a week in the fridge and also freezes well for later.
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Sycamore Bench


I've made a good few benches over the years, I love the simplicity of them : just a plank and four legs.
It's the way that those two elements relate to each other once assembled that appeals to me and there's a magic that happens when I get it just right, the right angle and splay of the legs, the right distance from the ends and the right proportions of length and thickness of each component . . .
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Slojd beginnings

As I've mentioned before there's a podcast I listen to, the Sloydcast and at the end the hosts always ask their guest the same last question : "What does Sloyd mean to you ?"
Every guest has a different answer, for me it would be this : Lemon Meringue Pie.
I have always loved cooking and dabbled as a teenager but it was only when I left home in my early twenties that I had to cook for myself all of the time. These were the days before supermarket ready meals and in a small town like Hastings takeaways were either Fish and Chips or Chinese.
My favourite pie has always been Lemon Meringue and to make it my mum always used a pre prepared mix from a packet, by Birds the custard people. So when I wanted to make it myself I did the same, until that is I began reading cookery books.
Turns out you can make it yourself with just Cornflour, eggs and a lemon. Things I already had in my cupboard, I didn't need the packet at all !
For me this was a revelation, not only was it cheaper or need a trip to the shops, but suddenly there were possibilities. I could now make Grapefruit meringue or Apple or Peach or . . . possibilities.
And this is the essence of Sloyd, more than just whittling a spoon it is the realisation that you can do most things yourself, starting where you are and with what you have around you. It is self sufficiency and a breaking away from the reliance on big business to supply all of our needs.
It is freedom.
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Pesto

Here in our part of Northumberland Spring comes with the scent of Garlic.
Around our village are small areas of woodland which at this time of year, before the trees come into leaf, are carpeted with Wild Garlic plants. Brilliantly green with white flowers the smell as you walk past is intoxicating . . .
Pesto is one of those dishes whose ingredients can be varied with what you have at hand, something green, some nuts, garlic, lemon juice and an oil.

This was todays version adapted from one I found on the internet.
You'll need :
Two or three handfuls of Wild Garlic
A small handful of walnuts
Half a cup of mature Cheddar cheese
A clove of Garlic
The juice of a Lemon
Salt, Pepper and 5 or six tablespoons of Olive Oil.
Peel, roughly chop or squeeze each ingredient as appropriate and put everything except the Olive oil into a blender.
Blend to a coarse paste, you'll need to stop occasionally to scrape it down the sides. Taste it and adjust for flavour : I added another handful of Wild Garlic and a little more salt.
Finally finish by drizzling in the olive oil with the blender running.
Pop into a jar and it will keep for a few days in the fridge.

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Flow

Now that I've been using a bandsaw for a while I find I do most of my cuts freehand. And I've noticed that this gives me instant feedback on my mood. If I am upset or distracted or angry, if I try too hard, or not hard enough or if I clutch at the timber tightly then I wander off the the line. But if I'm present and absorbed in the task then the cut is effortless.
It's the same as using a knife, less blood perhaps but equally valuable . . .
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Slöjd

There's a podcast I listen to (Sloydcast) and their final question is always "what does Sloyd mean to you?"
Slöjd is an educational system originating in Finland to teach handcrafts, using primarily woodworking as the medium. Behind it is a philosophy of discovery using a series of projects to work from the known to the unknown.
With the spread of green woodworking, particularly spoon carving this philosophy has come to mean different things to different people, hence that final question.
To me Slöjd embodies an idea of self reliance, of using what you have around you to create your own world. With the rise of capitalism it's something that we've been encouraged to lose. We've become reliant on business to supply our every need, in exchange for our time. But this has come at the expense of our health both physical and mental and we've become trapped within the system.
Yet the memory of how we once lived is still there in the depths of our minds and we can feel it faintly, nagging at us like a half remembered dream that fades upon waking. Through carving something as simple as a wooden spoon we're reminded that we have more control over our lives than we know. It's a realisation, a doorway that once you see it and then go through opens up to so many possibilities . . .
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Spring

After the snow a week or so ago it is now a mild, sunny and warm 10 degrees (centigrade). Spring is here and I can sit outside to carve.
Is there any other occupation that can so easily move location ? As long as all of the wood shavings are not a problem (they do get everywhere) I can be inside or out, public or private just as I feel and at a moments notice.
Rather than restriction, I find there is a freedom in simplicity.
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Influences

I'm lucky in that Nicola and I share very similar tastes. Whilst we may have slightly different viewpoints, we rarely disagree completely on matters of design.
We're both also heavily influenced by our surroundings; the countryside, the architecture, climate, weather and seasons. It's noticeable on instagram (@thehareinwinter) which changes along with the seasons
Which in no way explains why today I'm painting this pallet black . . . once clad in some old secondary double glazing it will hopefully become a small greenhouse for growing tomatoes.
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Washing up

Mid kitchen renovation just now, waiting for the floor to be laid so along with everything else the dishwasher is disconnected and we are washing up by hand in our tiny laundry.
Yet I don't find this a hardship. As an adult I've always quite enjoyed washing dishes. As long as I have time I find it relaxing, the warm water is soothing and the simple process leaves time to think, or not think just to allow my mind to be without the constant input we're bombarded with nowadays.
In time the dishwasher will return and I will use it again, but for now . . .
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the cooking spoon

I have always cooked both out of neccessity and for pleasure, it is not unusual for me to get the urge to cook some random dish on a quiet morning just to see what it tastes like.
The first spoon I ever carved was a cooking spoon. I saw them on instagram and was intrigued, made one and then used it, and have been making them ever since.
There are a lot of different spoon shapes, round, square or even pointed but I like a simple design : round or egg shaped bowl, straightish with a handle long enough to reach into my deepest saucepan but not so long as to constantly overbalance and topple out splashing everywhere.
I get totally absorbed when cooking, the same as when carving and there is a joy in bringing both practices together . . .
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Getting there . . .

It's because of lockdown isn't it, this aimless lethargy and lack of drive.
After the Christmas rush January is our quiet time anyway. A time to ease of, to reassess and to try new things. But this year it is already nearly halfway through February and I'm only just getting back into carving.
Routine seems to be helping, it gets me out to my shed and once there carving itself is just as enjoyable as always.
I suspect also that after a year I am finally realising that this is actually how things are now, that really will not be a return to what was despite the Politicians vague promises .
. .
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