The Big Firkle 2020

[Timbo]

The Big Big Firkle is unearthing artifacts that demonstrate my ancestors were woodworkers of some merit. Its also unearthed an artifact that demonstrates either my lack of natural ability or the faults of the education system in the 1970's and 80s to teach the very basics of woodwork.

The first artefact, difficult to miss as it is jammed into my bedroom at the foot of my bed, is a chest of drawers. These were made by my great great possibly another great Uncle who was apprenticed as a cabinet maker to the Rothschilds family in the 1830's. They were one of his apprentice pieces and were given to my great great, possibly another great, grandfather as a wedding present. Handed down through the generations (with some butchery by Uncle Albert who changed the original brass knobs for some cheap plastic knobs and then some wooden ones) until they landed with me. They seem to be mahogany with an oak or beech frame and drawer bottoms and sides. I understand my ancestor worked making furniture for the servants and repairing damaged furniture for the main houses.

At the side of the chest of drawers is a blanket box made by my maternal grandfather. In his youth he had worked on the family farms until a disagreement with his father over building a concrete floor in the piggery while the farmhouse still had dirt floors caused him to leave the farms to work down the mines. Woodwork and oil painting were his hobbies and I can remember my Grandmother leaving him an allowance for him to buy his tobacco, timber, tools or paint and canvas each week. As a treat I would be allowed to go with Granddad to the 'wood shop' and 'paint shop'to 'help' bring back his purchases in the large wooden wheelbarrow he had built. By helping I mean I rode there and back in the wheelbarrow the instant we got out of sight of Grandma in the house.

Sadly Granddad suffered from dementia so by the time I was old enough to learn his skills he was unable to pass them on. Still, I think some of those skills were handed down genetically as I enjoy painting and woodwork.

The blanket box is made of pine and beech I believe. The panels seem to be but jointed into the frame, although they seem to have a bevel on those surfaces. The arched central panel of the lid is held in place via a pegged through tenon The carving on the panels is all done by hand. I can remember Granddad spending hours sharpening his chisels and gouges before taking off his thick 'miners belt' and stropping the tools on the inner side of his belt. The patina in the finish I know was done with oil paints under the varnish as I watched him squeeze burnt umber onto the box.

My granddad made my bedroom furniture for me as a kid. The bed, the bookcase and wardrobe. I still have my bookcase, sadly now painted white thanks to an ex wife who decided she had a penchant for decorating. Frank Lloyd Wright would have labelled her an 'inferior desecrator'!

Next I've got a 'jewellery' box made by my paternal grandfather. A lift up lid and two drawers I'm told it's been 'repurposed' from an old cabinet they were chopping up for firewood during the war. I keep Uncle Albert's medals and watches in it for the moment. I'm responsible for painting the handles, badly, with silver paint when I was ten and allowed to decorate my own bedroom.


Last and certainly least is something I discovered in one of Uncle Albert's boxes of junk. It's my first ever woodwork piece done when I was eleven at school. I never realised the old boy had hung on to it. This was the test project that would decide whether we were allowed to be in the woodwork class or whether we were put into the 'mixed craft' class. Mixed craft was where the, and I'm quoting the woodwork teacher here, the 'idiots, insane, come to nothings and sons of social workers' were placed.

I loved woodwork! It was exciting, it was interesting but...as the son of a social worker I was doomed from the word go to the mixed craft group. We were never told what the test piece was supposed to be. We were told to use this tool or that tool to do each step, but never why or how. We were told to mark and cut a mortise but were given exact dimensions...which were wrong and the purpose of the wedges were not explained until the day we fitted them. We were given dimensions for the dowel and the peg which again were wrong. I was totally and utterly disillusioned.

Mixed crafts involved the use of wood, metal and plastics.  Our lessons, with a different teacher, involved the students copying word for word and picture for picture descriptions of different tools from a book written in the 1930s. Initially our teacher gave us demonstrations on how to use tools like the bandsaw until he cut his finger off explaining why we had to use the guards on the tools. From that point on we were told to 'go away and make plenty of noise'. This was to cover up the teacher spending his time and the school's resources building a miniature working steam train for his garden railway. Ah well! Perhaps I should recreate some of those school projects to see if I have taught myself anything over the past forty years?

Here's my project.it's a hat and coat hook in case you don't know!

[grendel]

my love of woodwork stemmed from the detention i gotr after my first woodwork lesson where i tested how sharp the school chisels were on the workbench, this detention was in a lunchtime, and consisted of repairing the damage i had done, and sharpening chisels, this was when i found that most of the 20 odd pupils attending of a lunch time were there of their own free will, the teacher brewing his cup of tea and eating his sandwiches in his classroom, so began a love of woodwork, i was never spectaculkarly good, but things i made didnt fall apart.

[TheQ]

17 hours ago, grendel said:

my love of woodwork stemmed from the detention i gotr after my first woodwork lesson where i tested how sharp the school chisels were on the workbench, this detention was in a lunchtime, and consisted of repairing the damage i had done, and sharpening chisels, this was when i found that most of the 20 odd pupils attending of a lunch time were there of their own free will, the teacher brewing his cup of tea and eating his sandwiches in his classroom, so began a love of woodwork, i was never spectaculkarly good, but things i made didnt fall apart.

Detention was often a good result. As the alternative was to be outside in the playgound, Heavy rain, hail , 3 ft of snow.. You weren't normally allowed in except for class work.

[Timbo]

New tools! Well, tool, well, sharpening stone! Over the last few years I've developed a weird compulsion to sharpen tools, particularly chisels and plane blades.  I usually used diamond stones with a honing guide. For times when I was reduced to one arm and hand in operation or I need to redefine the bevel due to chipping I would use my Trend sharpener. This ingenious device holds the chisel or plane blade at twenty five degrees and allows a small diamond stone held into the carriage by magnets to move across the blade or edge. There is a thirty degree position to allow for the addition of a secondary bevel.



My diamond stones ranged from one hundred grit to one thousand grit. There's sharp and there's Timbo sharp.  But with the addition of some new Japanese water stones up to eight thousand grit, there's now Timbo Super Sharp! A few touches on the three thousand grit, a polish on the eight thousand grit and a final strop on an old leather belt and I just have to show the chisel to the wood and the mortise almost cuts itself!


Who needs a telly when there's stuff to be sharpened? 

 

[ranworthbreeze]

2 hours ago, Timbo said:

New tools! Well, tool, well, sharpening stone! Over the last few years I've developed a weird compulsion to sharpen tools, particularly chisels and plane blades.  I usually used diamond stones with a honing guide. For times when I was reduced to one arm and hand in operation or I need to redefine the bevel due to chipping I would use my Trend sharpener. This ingenious device holds the chisel or plane blade at twenty five degrees and allows a small diamond stone held into the carriage by magnets to move across the blade or edge. There is a thirty degree position to allow for the addition of a secondary bevel.



My diamond stones ranged from one hundred grit to one thousand grit. There's sharp and there's Timbo sharp.  But with the addition of some new Japanese water stones up to eight thousand grit, there's now Timbo Super Sharp! A few touches on the three thousand grit, a polish on the eight thousand grit and a final strop on an old leather belt and I just have to show the chisel to the wood and the mortise almost cuts itself!


Who needs a telly when there's stuff to be sharpened? 

 

Hello Tim,

I have often sharpened chisels and plane blades on my knees whilst watching TV. I also use water-stones rather than oil stones, good ones however cost a small fortune.

I have two different Richard Kell honing guides.

https://www.fine-tools.com/richardkellhoningguide.html

Regards

Alan

[grendel]

i use a polishing rouge on my leather strop, this gives a very nice edge.

[Timbo]

So after days of rain I get a nice hot day. It's too hot. Too hot to work in the shed, I'm getting burnt in the sun working outside and Dylan the beagle just had a seizure more than likely a result of him over heating. We are all now in the shade with a fan blowing on beagles.

We have had a chance to experiment with cat deterrence. Water pistols are good fun. Beagle deterrence works partially but I have found the ultimate anti crapping cat system. It's so easy, does your garden good and helps getting rid of kitchen waste. 

I read a report on this site which gave me my ultimate solution. Having deployed my system I have been monitoring all offending cats and refining my system. Results are astonishing and I'm having so much fun dictating the behaviour of the cats in my neighbourhood and restricting their movements to the gardens of their owners almost invisibly.

The trick? Used coffee grounds! Collect your used coffee grounds and sprinkle them on your garden. Get a good mulch on well used cat paths. It will stop kitty dead in his tracks as he doesn't like getting coffee grounds on his paws. After a few days start to lightly sprinkle coffee grounds anywhere you don't want kitty to go, such as your lawn, under windows and under your car. Within a few days kitty is so sick and tired of cleaning the grit from his paws that liquid coffee can be sprayed on the ground and kitty will not pass as he now associates the smell of coffee with grit in his paws. It's the caffeine equivalent of the Smartie Tube!

I'm just popping the kettle on for a Java Jive, so I can sit back, sip my coffee and listen to the neighbours moan about their cats and complain about the amount of money they are having to spend on cat litter recently.

[Timbo]

When it comes to historiography (the study of the study of history) there are two theories as to the nature or shape of history. From the earliest times history was thought to be circular, people and events constantly revolving and repeating over and over again. Since the development of Christianity the thought has run that history is linear. You start at the beginning and work your way to the end. Let's face it, you can't sell tickets to the big hurrah if history is circular. As a historian, I'm with the Egyptians who used the dung beetle to depict the cyclical nature of history. Same doodah, different day.

So what prompted Timbo's brain towards thoughts on historiography this morning? It was Google Photos sending me a reminder of the pictures I took on this day three years ago. Then, as now, I was reorganizing my shed.

[Timbo]

And so the seasons turn and very soon Gracie and Arlo with be returning to school and starting nursery respectively. This means that Gracie will stay with us for two nights and we will take her to school (I walk past her school twice a day as it backs onto the woods where I walk the hounds) and Arlo will be with us for just one day as he starts nursery this year.

The seasons turn indeed and it is now 'happle' season. Arlo found last year, when he was just a year old, that he thoroughly enjoyed collecting 'happles' from great granddad's orchard. Armed with a little bucket he would wander between the trees collecting windfalls. To Arlo, it was the best thing ever and something he remembered and even though there were no windfalls to collect he would totter down to the orchard to look for 'happles'. Now that he is a BIG two, he is still fascinated by collecting 'happles'. He can now distinguish between maggot ridden 'crappy happles' and 'good eating happles'.'Crappy happles' get thrown to the 'monster (A pile of chippings created when the huge conifers were felled have enough 'give' underfoot to feel as though they may be alive. Some judicious sculpting by a Timbo and a Gracie and there is a monster at the bottom of the garden that eats happles!), good happles were put in a bucket.


Our friend Wendy passed down a toy wheelbarrow for Arlo to collect his happles in. Arlo, Grandma and I gave it a test down the orchard and Arlo found it to be 'fantastic 'mazin' for happles'.  Grandma found it needed 'doing up' and the rusty bits removed. Time for a firkle and restore the wheel barrow!
 

[Timbo]

Headache? Tense, nervous headache? Throw in neck ache, chest pain, dysphasia, pain up the arm, difficulty breathing and exhaustion and I was not having a good time. Over the past week I must have spent eight hours in bed for every hour I was awake and mobile. Even when I was out of bed my get up and go had not so much 'got up and gone' as fled the scene of the crime without leaving a forwarding address. I was not up to using things like table saws. I wasn't safe using things like table saws, so the restoration of Arlo's wheelbarrow was something I could tackle a bit at a time in relative safety.

First things first, taking the wheelbarrow apart. No, let's get this right. First things first, a search of the internet. You don't have to spend a lot of time firkling to realise that no matter the object, tool or material, some jobsworth with a flat hat and a clipboard will have given specific names to an object or tool. Engineering types will feign ignorance or snigger if you use terms other than those dictated by the flat hatted in antiquity. The internet is not a guarantee you will get the correct terminology. Sometimes the transatlantic baseball hatted jobsworths decide to rename the object, tool or material in their perpetual battle to understand the rudiments of the English language. After all, it's only been two hundred and forty four years. It's 'rebate' not 'rabbet'....'reeee bate'!

Second things second, the dismantling of the wheelbarrow. I did this with the aid of Ben Gunn. Spanners, sockets and adjustable spanners have been added to my list of 'tools I need to buy more of'. We separated the 'tray' from the 'legs', 'handles', 'wheel' and 'tray braces' using various grips. Ben Gunn had volunteered to knock out the dents in the tray with his collection of hammers, anvils and wooden blocks. I loaded the rest of the barrow into the car under Arlo's stern gaze.
"You broke my wheel barrow!"

It was a couple of days later when I felt well enough to spend an hour further stripping down the handles, braces and the taking the wheel from the axle. Reaching for my metric spanners I soon realised that I didn't have one that fitted. I didn't have an imperial spanner that fitted either. I took a wire brush to the bolt that served as the axle as I could just make out numbers and letters cast into the bolt head.  9/16W it said. Now, my Daddy was a marine and agricultural engineer and I knows all about Whitworths. I takes two in a white coffee. But...the various nuts and bolts were not Whitworths either. They were Chinese copies of Whitworth nuts and bolts. As luck would have it, I have a Chinese bike spanner stuffed in a draw. The spanner came with Uncle Albert's walker thing but never fitted the fixings on that. It did, sort of, fit the axle bolt. 

Finally everything was dismantled but the axle bolt interrupted my train of thought.
'Excuse me' said the bolt  'but can you tell me the difference between the old place where they keep the omnibuses and a lobster with breast implants?'.
'I'm afraid I don't know.' I told the fixing convinced something was wrong with it.
'Well one is a rusty bus station and the other is a busty crustacean!' quipped the bolt.
Suddenly I realized why the bolt's jokes were a bit obscure. It had a metal disorder, it was as rusty as it's jokes, and I needed a good lie down.

I scooped up the axle bolt, spacers and washers and gave them a quick scrub with a wire brush to get rid of the big flakes of rust then popped them in a jam jar. I topped the jar up with white vinegar and salt, put on the lid and popped the jar on the window sill. After a day bubbling away in the jar I had a murky brown solution and some clean bits of metal. A rinse in fresh water, a quick scrub with a wire wheel and I could move onto the next bit of the restoration.


 

[Timbo]

Having collected the wheelbarrow tray from Ben Gunn, I was ready for the next stage but a couple of days in bed nursing a monumental headache was what actually occurred. Still, one day the rain stopped and the sun came out and I felt well enough to crack on.

Cleaning up the tray, wheel, stays, legs and and handles was the next step. The wheel was the easiest part of the job. A good soak in some soapy water followed by a good scrub with a dish pad. The wheel was then dried off and given a good coating of matt dashboard cleaner and then given a buffing. Finally a couple of coats of tyre shine.

 All the metal parts were given a good rub down with a wire brush. Any sharp edges were taken away with a file and the surface cleaned with spirits and left to dry. I masked off the handles and then applied a couple of coats of grey primer.

Spray painting is one of those weird skills I accumulated partly as an archaeologist and partly through holiday work in between terms and digs. Running repairs to JCB's and tractors, fitting side plates and front linkages, MIG welding and spray painting in the field, occasionally with some crackpot shooting at you, and all part and parcel of a classical education.


I normally like to use a yellow high build primer if I'm going to be painting anything in red or orange, but as I didn't have any...several coats of standard grey rubbed down in between coats would have to do.

For colours I plumped for Oxford Green for the handles, stays and feet and a bright red for the tray. It took a couple of days to get everything painted. I got two coats on and left it overnight before applying another couple of coats. I then left everything for twenty-four hours to cure properly.

Once the paint had cured it was time to reassemble the wheelbarrow. The wheel went in first. I took the time to file the head of the axle bolt and the locking nut so that they would better fit my metric spanners instead of the Chinese bike spanner. I drilled out new washers to replace the old ones which were really corroded as well as new washers for the handles and to attach the tray. For the tray I used new coach bolts as these were shiny and locked the tray in position much better. I suspect the original design had been for coach bolts.

With everything put back together again, I touched up the odd area of paintwork that I'd managed to scratch while assembling everything.

Today Arlo took his 'new' wheel barrow out for a test run in the orchard to collect 'happles' and pears, despite the rain. He deemed the restoration a success and collected quite a few windfalls.



So, the jobs a 'good un' onto the next!

[Timbo]

The firklemeister is back and with a new kind of firkling, firkydoodling! Firkydoodling is firkling 'on paper' designing future firkling projects which leads to further episodes of firkling. The basic requirements for firkydoodling are something to draw with, I prefer an HB pencil, and something to draw on, traditionally a fag packet or in my case an opened out fag paper booklet but you can use paper...if you must.

So what have I been firkydoodling and firkling I know you are desperate to ask? Tool storage mostly. Following yet another spectacular fall out I the shed, it was decided by far higher powers that I had too many tools and machines in the shed and my organization was abysmal leaving no thought for trip hazards and space to actually work.

I started woodworking with basic, cheap tools. As I've become more proficient I've been upgrading my tooling. In some instances this has meant I have duplicates and sometimes triplicates of tools that I no longer use. Therefore, during the latest firkle friends and family have become the recipients of the excess tools I had loafing about the place.

I'm not as lucky as Alan to have a full set of Stanley planes, but I have invested in cheaper, but better quality than store brand, planes from Faithful. This meant I had a spare No 4 plane and a No 60 block plane going spare. These were passed on to my brother in law Watson. I also had an electric plane which I just couldn't get on with at all. I passed this along to my friend Russ who is always popping round to 'borrow a plane'. I was pleased to see the other day that Russ was putting the plane to good use finishing the 'pub' he is building in his back garden.

So the first spot of firkydoodling was a couple of holsters to hold my No 6 foreplane and No 5 plane on the wall of my 'workshop' above my bench. I added shelves for my Duplex plane, the No 60 ½ block plane, my No 4 plane and my Veritas spokeshave. Not the neatest of jobs, I made use of all the little offcuts of plywood I had loafing and the vast quantities of dowels I have in drawers, but it works!

Next spot of firkydoodling was to make a home for my chisels and mallets. I decided on a 'knife block' arrangement so that the blades of my always sharp chisels were buried away from my clumsy hands. The wider two inch chisels at one end made a handy spot to house my wooden mallet so that chisels and mallet were all contained in one unit.

Next up was a simple hanger/holder for my files. Again a simple affair, just a block of wood with dowels to hold the larger files and a hole to pop my small rat tail file into. So far I wasn't putting any thought into my workspace, just making homes for my tools and fastening them to the wall out of the way. Screwdrivers were next on the list, a home for my orbital sander and sandpaper and somewhere to hang my Japanese saws. Slowly but surely I'm finding space for everything and getting shut of things I don't use, have never used or will never use.

[MauriceMynah]

Why not just bite the bullet and build a bigger shed?

[FairTmiddlin]

Because He has spent out with dental charges after "Biting the bullet"

[grendel]

 

5 hours ago, Timbo said:

Following yet another spectacular fall out I the shed, it was decided by far higher powers that I had too many tools and machines in the shed and my organization was abysmal leaving no thought for trip hazards and space to actually work.

that explains his comments the other day about the vultures circling above his shed, fallen over again, its not only Ian that will be needing a bump cap at this rate.

[Timbo]

22 hours ago, MauriceMynah said:

Why not just bite the bullet and build a bigger shed?

Ah you see, here I am limited for space. For my sins and ailments I live in a mobility adapted ground floor flat and I have to share the back garden with my upstairs neighbours. When I first moved here the previous upstairs neighbour (I christened her Widow Twankey and it stuck) decided that the concrete wheelchair ramp right outside my bedroom window was an ideal place to put her 'summerhouse'. The ensuing wrangles over her shed and the housing association making new rules to support her meant that when they realized she was a few tokens short of a rubber dog mat and she moved to pastures new...I had a whole raft of letters proclaiming the right to put a shed on the ramp within a set dimension. Unfortunately I can't expand the shed. I can put a sun screen off the front of it though...but lifting big timbers is a bit beyond me at present.
 

17 hours ago, FairTmiddlin said:

Because He has spent out with dental charges after "Biting the bullet"

Ah but then...I has them new fangled teefs so's I can take em' out and give it a good gumming!

16 hours ago, grendel said:

 

that explains his comments the other day about the vultures circling above his shed, fallen over again, its not only Ian that will be needing a bump cap at this rate.

A bump cap will not be necessary...due to lack of space, when I do fall over I'm usually to be found wedged in an upright position. Ellie has been making plans. Apparently she's going to bury me with the dog leads in my coffin. So no escape from the rigours of dog walking even when I snuff it!

[JennyMorgan]

The limitations imposed by the shed itself have surely taken over as the primary hobby it would seem! The shed is no longer housing a hobby, it is the hobby, the very driving force for getting up in the morning. 

[grendel]

are you restricted on the height of said shed, I mean, could it be 2 or 3 stories- hang on rethink that, a fall from a second floor of the shed would be worse, just encourage the vultures.

[FairTmiddlin]

2 hours ago, grendel said:

are you restricted on the height of said shed, I mean, could it be 2 or 3 stories- hang on rethink that, a fall from a second floor of the shed would be worse, just encourage the vultures.

Surely the stair lift would negate any extra space found in another storey, may have to go to four stories.

Mind you at that height. put wheels on it and call it a reconstruction of a medieval fighting or siege tower.

[JennyMorgan]

11 hours ago, grendel said:

are you restricted on the height of said shed, I mean, could it be 2 or 3 stories- hang on rethink that, a fall from a second floor of the shed would be worse, just encourage the vultures.

Seen down at Hastings. Three stories high, outside door to each floor and a stick above the top door to put a block and tackle onto in order to haul the old fellow up by. The seagulls traditionally replace the vultures.

[CambridgeCabby]

Katie and I always drive home via Hastings when we pop to Brighton for the weekend , a pint and a game of bar billiards in the Jenny Lind followed by a pint of smoked prawns on the beach ........ heaven 

[BrundallNavy]

22 hours ago, Timbo said:

Ah you see, here I am limited for space. For my sins and ailments I live in a mobility adapted ground floor flat and I have to share the back garden with my upstairs neighbours. When I first moved here the previous upstairs neighbour (I christened her Widow Twankey and it stuck) decided that the concrete wheelchair ramp right outside my bedroom window was an ideal place to put her 'summerhouse'. The ensuing wrangles over her shed and the housing association making new rules to support her meant that when they realized she was a few tokens short of a rubber dog mat and she moved to pastures new...I had a whole raft of letters proclaiming the right to put a shed on the ramp within a set dimension. Unfortunately I can't expand the shed. I can put a sun screen off the front of it though...but lifting big timbers is a bit beyond me at present.
 

Ah but then...I has them new fangled teefs so's I can take em' out and give it a good gumming!

A bump cap will not be necessary...due to lack of space, when I do fall over I'm usually to be found wedged in an upright position. Ellie has been making plans. Apparently she's going to bury me with the dog leads in my coffin. So no escape from the rigours of dog walking even when I snuff it!

It’s an easy solution Tim, move your bed into the shed and the workshop into the flat. Where are your priorities man !  

[JanetAnne]

1 hour ago, brundallNavy said:

Where are your priorities man !  

In the shed but he'll need a reorganise to find them 

[JennyMorgan]

51 minutes ago, JanetAnne said:

In the shed but he'll need a reorganise to find them 

They'll be on a tailor made rack, easy to find. 

[grendel]

or in a glass jar on the shelf