Out of Scotland, but with no particular desire to rush back to a locked-down Wales, we set our sights on a trip to England. After making a full descent of a rain-lashed M6 from above and beyond, we arrived at the sanctuary of Fort Martin, where the fire was already lit amid the usual high standard of hospitality. While Clare got to work in the office, I set out with Pappa Martin for an induction into the wonderful world of woodturning.
After prepping the wood and sharpening the tools, it was time to get stuck and get coated in wood shavings. I was totally pumped from gripping onto the chisels to begin with and had my body braced for contact with the mahogany block.
It seemed an unsustainable posture until I was shown a more relaxed stance and then things began to get easier.
It was good fun and very satisfying to see it evolve.
There are all sorts of tools and some real history, including Grandad's saw. After a bit of sander-sealer and some carnauba wax, I had myself a finished product!
When we weren't turning wood, I was mostly getting beaten at Chess and a frustrating speed, although I did make a bit of a comeback the next day. Unusually, the weather was windier than Scotland, but we still got out for some fresh air around the village to admire the local sights.
Uncle Ken's ship is still coming on, thanks to astonishing dexterity and patience that I certainly haven't inherited! Incredible detail!
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