The slipper fits

Okay, looks like I can get away without a major design opportunity, so pressing on with trimming and fitting the tenons. Thought I'd have a shot at the router method - no, not that kind of router. When I've come this far? How dare you... There's a design or two out on't net for "tenon routers" that basically put a great big base on the thing, the idea being that you heave down on the end of it that's on the work, which'll stop it tipping. Instead of that I just used a piece of scrap the same thickness as support. Previous trials of this router method haven't been that great, but this time it went brilliantly; I'm inclined to credit the Veritas's closed throat giving one less place for the tool to dive. Talking of which, I read someone on a forum somewhere who said they couldn't see how anyone could find anything to complain about with the Veritas's knobs. Ha hum... Still can't like them; not keen on handles that angle the focus of your efforts away from the seat of the action and, alas, that's just how 'tis. Like the rest of it okay.


Then on to cutting the haunches, which I'm sure is the wrong order to do things, but never mind. I doubt the end result will enable anyone to tell the difference. And the "old" Wenzloff comes out to play. Ack, I'd forgotten how well its handle fits my hand. How could I have thought the tenon was perfect? This is perfect. And the tenon... Notice the early Philly Plane there? I'm assuming it'll be worth thousands at some point, but, heck, I'm still using it.

A bit of judicious tweaking and it all comes together. And they're square. And they're the right size.

And the rails look like a completely different wood. Humph. 

Oh well, the assorted colours of the boards I have lined up for the panels should distract from that okay... I went through a small debate about cheating like crazy, 'cos I happen to have a piece of MDF (spit, cough, choke) that would be just right and I thought maybe painted to match the outside of the carcass...? But then I bethought me, "Self, the rest is real wood. You've been good and done proper woodworking thus far, don't spoil it for a ha'porth of tar". To which I could only reply, "Self, s'good point. Plus I'd quite like to use the panel plane." And thus both of us set to work. If I'd known I'd end up with so much disparity of colour I might have gone with the paint... Jointing and gluing up these multi-coloured toothpicks to make the panels is a joy to come.

My Lee Valley order should also be a joy to come on Monday (yes all you folks waiting for your bits and pieces - the end is nigh). Alas, I must now be firmly on the radar 'cos Parcel Force have nabbed me again (for VAT but not Import Duty? How does that work then?). That's, erm, two out of three, I think. Sheesh, pretty high percentage if other claims are to be believed. Heigh ho. Note to self: move to Canada and go broke more locally... ;-) 

Weeping willow

Tenon cheek trimming progress has stalled while I, ah, deal with a potential design opportunity that I've only just realised. One of these decades the whole idea of having a drawing or plan of what you're going to do may finally catch on chez Alf, but I wouldn't bet on it. So meanwhile I continue with I may henceforth refer to as the blogmanship of risk. Viz: telling the world what you're doing whilst you're still doing it, instead of doing the sensible thing of completing the project and then telling the world how easy it was.

Not that I'm going to tell you what went pear-shaped. I have a faint hope it may not show, and anyway there's a good chance I'll foul something up much more obvious and fatal, thus entailing making fresh parts and losing the, ah, adjusted ones anyway. But if it shows, well perhaps I might confess then.

Meanwhile it's that time of the year again - when one or more tree about the place decides it has had enough of being blown about and elects to break somewhere.

In this case a so-called  "corkscrew", "contorted" or "curly" willow. Which basically means it's 100% reaction wood as far as I can tell. It grows like this, see? All corkscrew-y.

Looking at the break, the view was expressed that perhaps it had simply got too wet. Now I thought willows were so keen on wet conditions they'd practically grow in a bath, but perhaps things have been extreme even for them?

The theory is that the darkening round the junction of branch to trunk is the rot, in which case it, and we, are in trouble, 'cos look what's just above.

And what useful purpose can this stuff be put to anyway? Anyone had any dealings with such wood? Decorative? Could you (theoretically) turn it into amazing vases? Or something? 

Perhaps a cricket bat to facilitate easier scoring towards fine leg*... 

*Okay, 'Murricans and others - fine leg is behind the batsman and might be easier to hit towards if the bat was screwy, see? And cricket bats are made of willow, right? Sigh. As a signing off joke of modest proportions this simply doesn't work as soon as you have to explain it, does it..? Go on. Move along. Nothing to see here...

Wenzlovian Onslaught

Long-term inmates of my Musings are probably aware that it's usually at the tenon stage of operations that Cold Feet kick in and the lure of bandsaw or, more likely still, the WoodRat becomes more than I can bear. My claim to Neanderthalism is laid bare in the glare of reality as a pathetic fraud and I try not to catch the eye of any tenon saws in the vicinity. It's not just lack of will-power and the moral fiber of limp celery, although it's that too; the WoodRat is just rather good at tenons and I'm not.

Of course I'm not good at tenons 'cos I never give myself the practice, do I? Well part of the point of taking trouble over trivial workshop furniture is to use it as more meaningful practice of skills and techniques than just a stack of off-cuts turned into a smaller stack of off-cuts. So far I've been Good and jointed the boards, rebated for the back, hand dovetailed the carcass, ploughed the grooves for the door panels and chopped the mortises. Unaccustomed resolve set in and I'd be damned if I wasn't going to do the tenons by hand too.

And that's why progress has halted - while I worry about it and generally put it off. People might have asked me whether I put on this prevaricating, cowardly persona for the benefit of this blog and Comic Effect. They might have asked me that, but they haven't. Perhaps it's all too obvious it comes naturally...?

Anyway, there's another reason for doing it "proper like". Previously the only tenon saws who's eye I haven't been meeting have been of the old, cheap, slightly undervalued persuasion. But now, gentle reader, I have A Wenzloff. That's not a saw you wish to avoid the eye of; no sir. So let battle commence.

Thus I marked up the rail stock, started with the half-back and sawed all the pieces to length. The half-back and I are not entirely au fait as yet; I'm assuming it's going to be one of those slow-burn relationships and we'll end up never to be parted. As things were a little fraught I went a little shy of my line and decided to take the extra step of shooting them to final length. Behold, another opportunity to point out the benefits of knifed line over pencil. See where the knifed line is clearly seen round the perimeter of the planed end? Still a bit to go though.


Once that was done, on to all the tedious and lengthy marking up. Occasionally I feel a modicum of guilt about a slight obsession I have with marking and measuring tools, but then I remember that getting the marking right is half the battle and I feel better. In that vein I, erm, recently invested in a set of TiteMark mortise blades for the cheaper Axminster Tite-A-Like gauge - never yet found a mortise gauge I'm really happy with and thought what the heck... I know, I know - I have Too Much Stuff. Actually I went with the tip to use the scoring blade and one mortise one and I think I may prefer it. Time will tell; possibly another slow-burn.

Where was I? Oh yes, the sawing. Let me say right away that the tenon saw is Nice and absolutely no slow-burn needed for this one. I shall enjoy using it - lots and lots. And indeed here it is in action. Early on I was (sensibly cautiously) generous in how close I was sawing to the line; not because of the saw but rather the sawyer... By the end I was getting pretty good, say it I shouldn't; thus demonstrating that they don't say "practice" for nothing. Well "d'uh". The wriggle on the saw is a scribble of wax - see? It really is A User. (And before you ask, yes, it's a crosscut and you could, fairly, point out that I have probably a "few" tenon saws filed rip I could have used for the cheeks. But they're not long rips, and the saw was calling me...)


It was a bit odd at first though. There seemed to be some funny effects going on; the work looked a little strange. Then it dawned on me - it's the reflection in the blade Chris Schwarz and people are always going on about. The majority of my saws aren't nearly as shiny as this one, or else simply not big enough to reflect so much. Well I felt a bit of a fool, I must admit - and frankly wasn't initially terribly convinced that it was helpful so much as distracting.

Sheesh, that apron looks shocking. If you look really closely towards the bottom of this action shot you can see the sawdust falling away from the Wenzlovian Onslaught.


Time moved on and once again a switch to arty black & white was called for. Alas, the woodworker is slow and the days short. The woodworker's also messy. Ack, terrible habits I get into... Anyway, by this stage I was confident enough with the saw to be hitting the line and in danger of getting carried away enough to cut the tenons off in my enthusiasm. Luckily I didn't and stopped short of a Mortise Chisel Shortening Incident type of disaster. Phew. I was also starting to make use of that reflective blade and Scales Were Falling From My Eyes in that respect.

Of course the tenons aren't actually done. Those sensibly, cautious cuts earlier will need some trimming. Quite a lot, in some cases. Hmm, now which technique shall I use for that...?

I was writing the above when news came through that a friend had passed away after a long battle with cancer. Christopher Whaite was a meticulous and talented woodworker, model engineer and clock restorer, and was the primary cause of my taking up this excellent craft of ours. He gave me a ten minute primer on sharpening a scraper, a whole stack of veneer offcuts and set me on the road away from balsa wood boxes (thank heavens). Over the years I'd tell him what I was doing and he'd ask for detail - and I mean detail. It was excellent discipline; made me think so much more about what I was doing and why. If anyone ever gets anything useful out of my whittering about woodworking, ultimately you can thank Christopher for it. I didn't see nearly enough of him, or learn nearly as much from him as I could have; and the world's a most definitely a poorer place without him.

I'd dedicate these prevaricated tenons to Christopher - but I don't honestly think he'd want them...

Socket Set

Easily side-tracked? Moi?

Okay, it's like this: it dawned on me that it's no good pointing out the benefits of having a wide range of tools from which to choose, if the particular example from that wide range that you actually needed was unusable at the time. So I thought I'd make a handle. And it makes sense to make the other handles for the "set", doesn't it...? And that piece of beech was just hanging around and just long enough for the necessary three handles, wasn't it...


These aren't really a set at all, coming as they did, from iirc at least two different sources, but by a strange coincidence they are all by Ward & Payne. Perhaps not such a coincidence, W&P being a very common make. Because I absolutely hate hooped handles I thought I'd try leather washers and see how well they stand up to the task. 

These are larger versions of the Marples bevel-edged chisel handle I have. A little scale courtesy of the sash mortise chisel...

Naturally the blades need considerable work yet before I can call these ready for use, but perhaps that's enough prevaricating about the bush for the time being...

Now I've gone into black & white pics in part because of the poor lighting I was using (it was late and God's Light Box had gone out for the day), but also in celebration of the news that Woodworking Magazine, well-known user of black & white images, is finally offering subscriptions. Huzzah! They're also going to 4 issues a year, which I'm less excited about. Well part of me is, but part of me would rather stick with quality over quantity - but fingers crossed, we can have both :-)