Fi sanding in the shed.
Status:
Around a decade ago I decided to learn how to do woodwork adequately. I’d never really got beyond hammering two bits of wood together and, having dabbled in making camera obscuras, realised this was something I wanted to know more about. I did a short course at an adult education place and when we decided the rabbits needed a shed we doubled the size so I could have a small workshop at the bottom of the garden, followed by the inevitable accumulation of tools and “useful” pieces of wood.
My woodwork skills became adequate and I can construct things that hold together, even occasionally getting paid to do so. I enjoyed pootling in the shed, making things with my hands that existed in the world. I mildly resented not being encouraged to learn such things as a youth but was keen to make up for lost time.
And then I got ill. I still potter in the shed a bit and power tools help a lot but, like with everything, my capacity has dramatically reduced. I take heart from all the old blokes you see still working with wood in their sheds but shifting down to that level has been tricky. I just want to get stuck in and realise the things in my head, and I just can’t anymore.
Last week Fi got a new desktop from the street group chat. While it’s the perfect size for her office it turned out to be three scaffolding planks fixed together. Nice and chunky but with a warped surface. Since she’s going to be typing and writing on this she needs it to be flat.
Simple! I have a nice hefty floor sander (I usually use it upside down as a mini belt sander) and running that over it for a while should get everything nice and even. So we cary the planks to the shed and I have a quick go. Nope, I can’t do more than five minutes of this. So I show Fi how to do it. Usually I’m pretty good at teaching, but I’m already a bit tired so I struggle not to get impatient. Thankfully she gets the hang of it and I give her space and it all works out. She has a fairly flat desk now, at least in the areas that matter. We can do the rest later if necessary.
As I’m sitting in the garden watching Fi work I’m trying not to feel too sad about this situation. It was around the time I first got Covid that my woodworking confidence turned a corner and the window in which I was able to put it into practice, as the Long Covid turned into Chronic Fatigue, was distressingly small.
Last year saw me doing “grief work” for the stuff I suddenly found myself unable to do, and starting to figure out what it is that I can do now – what’s left and what’s new. It’s taking a very long time though and moments like today remind me that it’s really barely begun.
I wonder if I should just get rid of all the tools and call it quits. That might be easier than trying to figure out what I can and can’t do with them. But if I do that with everything what would I have left?
Overnight listening:
Reading:
- I’ve read 3,000 studies about covid: here’s what you’re ignoring that could (still) harm you or a loved one
- Birmingham revellers turn out for non-existent fireworks – for second new year in a row