Potential

Last week there was an auction on da 'Bay for a tool chest. It was down here in Cornwall, pick up only. Obvious water damage and the sparse description spoke of rusty tools but showed nary a one. One of those things where you tell yourself it's nothing but spanners so orange with rust that they look like they've had an unfortunate accident in a spray tanning booth.

But in your heart, you wishfully dream of Stanley #1s and ebony bridle ploughs.

Now I don't do Ebay. At all. I dare not, because I will be bankrupt within a week. Tops. So I was happily ignorant of this tool chest, potentially full of promise but in all likelihood actually full of rust. But I have thoughtful readers out there, ever ready to apply a heap of grease to the soles of my feet and give me a hearty shove further down The Slope. They even smile and wave as they do it, the considerate sw-... people.

So not one, but two emails arrived in my inbox saying "Hey, Alf, have you seen this?" and helpfully pointing this tool chest out. In fairness there wasn't long to withstand before the listing ended, but by gum, what a test for me and my notoriously sparse willpower. I mean, c'mon, guys; would you sit a recovering alcoholic down in front of a bottle of whisky? And this wasn't even a good single malt, but some home-brewed potcheen that'd likely cause blindness. Sheesh. ;)

Anyway, by now you're already shaking your head and saying "I know where this goes. You gave in, didn't you, Alf? Come on then, where is it?" Well ya boo sucks. I resisted to the bitter end. Okay, so I may have looked when the auction ended, just in case it hadn't sold and maybe consider contacting the seller and asking "What about it?"

But it sold.

So that's all right then. Don't mind at all. Best result. Dying of curiosity, wondering what was in it? Me? Don't be silly.

I'm fine.

So when I open the local paper this week, automatically perusing the classified ads, it was with some despair that I realised even without the helpful emails (Which really I love to get, guys. Honest), I'm still perfectly capable of torturing myself.

It's fine. I'm absolutely fine. If there was anything worth having, it will have already sold. Wooden planes? Who needs 'em? The chances of there being anything by Madox or Gabriel or... No. It's fine.

Odds are heavily against a bridle plough too.

Erasmus

Talking of handwriting, the other day my folks and I spent a happy lunchtime dissecting Albrecht Dürer's engraving of Erasmus, via the medium of a thank you card that someone had sent in the post.

As you do.

Naturally my horticulture-obsessed female parent focused on the lily of the valley in the jug. Classically educated as he was, my dad went for the Greek and Latin. Which left me either to really appreciate the hat or the furniture.

So the hat... yeah, let's take a moment there. Interesting, in a hat-made-from-a-sweet-pepper sort of look. I've seen worse on Ladies' Day at Royal Ascot. And, um... That's all I got.

Yes, okay, millinery is not my forte; I went for the furniture. At this point, and not for the first time, I truly appreciate just how much I don't know about mouldings. Or moldings. Either of them. It's shameful. Somehow I've yet to find the book or article that truly makes it click for me, so I'm reduced to trying to remember the basics by rote. And failing. I think that's an ogee on the underside of the desk/table edge. Or is it a cyma reversa?And what's the difference anyway? Is there a difference? Either way, I like it, and how it's echoed in the cut out for the feet of the writing slope. I mean it may date from 1526, but I could live with that furniture. I like its clean lines.

Mind you, I could live with that engraving too. Click on the pic for a big ol' zoom in to fully appreciate the detail. You can practically run your hands over the wood, and have you spotted them? The end grain of the dovetail pins? Steep angle, no? Somebody better at that sort of thing might want to guesstimate the slope. But quite a narrow pin apex, verging on London style. I shall call it Rotterdam style - until someone tells me not to. So dovetailed top rails to a table? Or is it actually a chest? Or what? I know not (obviously), but I had a disproportionate amount of fun speculating about it.

So my tip o' the day: For the ideal thank you card, when faced with a choice of fluffy kittens frolicking amongst spring flowers or a 16thC engraving that apparently the sitter really didn't like terribly much, consider the recipient's available time to appreciate the card. Kittens - 2 minutes, tops. Erasmus - a comfortable 25 minutes. And a blog entry.

Scrawl

Did you know one Monday this January saw National Handwriting Day? Well in the States, anyway - something to do with John Hancock's birth or death or summat like that. It's a 'Murrican thing. Anyway, one of the steady trickle of advertising emails I get to this blog was promoting something or other to do with handwriting (clearly not very effectively, as it escaped me as to what it was) and told me this fascinating thing.

Of course the fact it was last Monday is neither here nor there. Tool chests have priority.

Anyway, it whittered on about how the art of writing was lost etc etc, write something by hand to celebrate and so forth. As I went through the final box of my Spring Cleaning this weekend, and laboriously listed the contents, I had feel that you should all rejoice most exceedingly that this blog comes to you in the form of the printed word:

Alternatively, perhaps you'd prefer an illegible scrawl and then you wouldn't have to actually read the content. Please, feel free not to express an opinion on that in the comments box... ;)

Snatched by gypsies

"The cheapest things are bought in India; as much labour or manufacture may be had there for two pence as in England for a shilling. The carriage there is dear, the customs are high, the merchant has great gains, and so has the retailer; yet still with all this charge, the Indians are a great deal cheaper than equal English manufacture"

Considerations upon the East India Trade, 1701.

Most people seem to want to attribute Considerations to Henry Martyn (or Martin), but the source that threw this across my path firmly says Sir Dudley North. I'll go with Sir Dudley because apparently he was snatched by gypsies when a child (Yes! Really!), and that's strangely hard to resist. Not least as a post title...

And yes, this is a little Schwarz-ish, but the quote struck me as such a case of plus çe change etc, I had to share.