My Life in Woodwork
My story as a woodworker began as a child in the mid 60's. My father would spend most of his evenings and weekends building stuff around the house out of wood. Shelves, cupboards and even bunk beds would magically appear, and my older brother, as the more practical of the two of us, was usually co-opted to act as his second. At the age of 8 or 9 however I was notoriously clumsy and a bit of a dreamer, qualities which combined to make any assistance I provided something of a mixed blessing.
I did not realise it at the time, but as I watched from the sidelines, fascinated by the beauty of the wood and utterly bewildered by my fathers perfectionism and attention to detail, I suspect that the die was cast. To this day, I can clearly remember him drilling holes with his trusty brace and bit and driving screws with his mechanical ratchet screwdriver. Naturally all the screw heads were precisely lined up either horizontally or vertically.
As a young adult, my reputation for impracticality stuck and I am not ashamed to admit I milked it for all it was worth. Time after time when a picture needed hanging, or a desk needed building my father or my brother would happily step up and help out.
Fast forward 30 years. Now a middle aged married man, having had a long and relatively satisfying career in music and media, I have successfully avoided hammering in a single nail or driving a single screw for the better part of 4 decades. I have had countless bookshelves, desks and wardrobes built by my brother and my father, and have shown them both the appropriate level of gratitude.
In the spring of 2011, my wife and I realised a long held ambition when we moved out of London to live in a beautiful farmhouse in the peace and quiet of the Suffolk countryside. By this time, my father was living in a small village in Burgundy and my brother was splitting his time between being a Westminster mover and shaker, and renovating a farmhouse of his own in The Rhone Valley. This was great news for my wine collection. Not so much when something needed fixing.
At this point 3 things happened to create a perfect storm. First was a long and painful recovery from depression, with a corresponding need to find positive pastimes to aid my recovery. Second was my wife asking me to get some bookcases for our bedroom. Finally and strangest of all was a Wickes commercial showing a chap driving screws into decking boards - which got me thinking “that looks like a manly thing to do”.
Before I knew where I was I had bought a drill, some screws, some wood and without really knowing what I was doing, I made the bookshelves (pic right) and became a woodworker.
It's probably not an exaggeration to say that learning to work with wood saved my life. Turning a raw piece of wood into an object of great beauty was by far the most fulfilling thing I had ever ever done, and my interest quickly became an obsession. I hungrily devoured knowledge from both short courses and online resources like You Tube, whilst garnering useful experience from turning my garage into a fully functional workshop by building a variety of workbenches, cabinets and workstations.
It was not very long before a second intervention from Mrs McKenzie led to my second furniture build.
Having recently purchased 2 nice leather settees, it turned out we did not have a side table that fit in the space created by setting them at right angles, nor were any of the commercial options available at a height that made it easy to rest a cup of coffee without straining one’s wrist. Off to the workshop I went and a table was duly built.
Interestingly it was this project that defined the direction my business would subsequently take. The concept of building something beautiful to fit a particular space, or fulfil a singular need - where there were no suitable mass produced solutions available - gave me the idea that has since become the foundation of my business.
