I've pondered where to categorise this blog.
"Anecdotes"...?
"Can you help"....?
"Events".....?
"Extreme DIY".....?
So I settled for "Workshop Chronicles" Even though all of the above would be the ideal place for this. I feel that this is an event that will cover the breaking down of my workshop now and rebuilding it up later.

So here goes.

I'm ready for a big move. Lock stock and all the barrels.
60 years of accumulated stuff that will be needed where i'm going.
Where, you might ask? Well it will be down to the coast. Knysna area.
My farther had a building and construction business 10 years prior to when I came into the world. 5o years on and I have added onto that pile.

Now before anyone says that "I have to purge" I can't. I need it all.
What I have you can't replace. I can't sell it up in Johannesburg and expect to find the same thing down there for the same price. First they won't have it, and second, if they had I would not be able to buy it for the same price I got for mine.
This is the final move. There will be no more after this. This is where I lay my hat till I peacefully 'retire' for good.
The place i'm going to needs tons and tons of time to repair, fix, landscape, plough, demolish and build up. I need all my "stuff" And thank heavens it will all now come in handy. All will be used. All those odds and ends saved over the years because "I can use this. Or- This still works. or Eventually this will come in handy" Well that time is now.
What my dilemma is - is getting all this stuff packed and ready for the move.
Where the heck do I start. What get's boxed first. All my planks, all my metal lengths, all my tools, my machines, bit and pieces, paint tins, cupboards, benches, drawers, etc etc etc. And I have lot's. When I say I have lot's then you just have to believe that I have.
And to add to all of the above....... We still have not even begun to empty my girlfriends (Life Partner) place.

I'll start to document the build up to the packing. Photo's. Low's and highs.
Bear with me.
Contribute by means of helpful hints and skills needed for this mammoth move.
All will be devoured to make this as easy as it can be.

So excuse me while I step out................................................."Aaargh!"

Some woodworkers just have a knack for organizing their workshops really well. I bet this guy knows exactly where everything is kept....!

Well, actually the S word, but the S word is part of the F word anyway…?!

I need all the help I can get…..I do have the Wood Spirit looking out for me…..or is it that fellow that sits on our shoulders….

Busy sanding a 4.1m long African mahogany top for a very long built in desk with drawers. 4.1m is about 161 inches for those who still prefer to measure with King George’s thumb……

PS. The F word is Finishing if you didn’t figure it!!!!!!!!

Commissions are slow here but then what do you expect of a woodshop in the middle of a Wattle bush, in the middle of a recession? There has been a few though, an Oak chest of drawers, some L-shaped Boekenhout kitchen countertops, and most recently, four side tables in the French provincial style. Those with the curvy legs that you see in all the current décor mags. Had to spray them white and sand the paint away a little on the corners to make them look old. “Just like in the picture, please”. It is what the people want, who am I to argue? Hate painting things white though. Just can’t seem to get my hands clean enough to prevent finger prints. In the same décor mags I see houses where everything is white from head to toe. How people live in there is beyond me!

The positive side of slow is that it does give me time to explore my creative side. I‘ve been able to do some art furniture and sold the first piece recently at a gallery in Franschhoek. Someone bought “Sculpt Cabinet” at a bargain price. (Well, that is what I think.) These galleries just kill you with their commissions! Two Englishmen wanted to buy tables as well but the cost of shipping to Europe is a real killer and twice the deal fell through.

My sculptures have been doing well and “The fruit bowl” sold quickly to a buyer in Europe. Proof again that Europeans has a much bigger appreciation of quality craftsmanship than the average Japie. Same thing with art. A large percentage of my wife’s paintings go to overseas buyers. They just have a much stronger art culture.

My little bird sculptures is quite popular, even locally. (I have to post a picture!) I sold the first lot in Franschhoek, then KKNK, and now pretty regularly at The Natural Edge at Scarab Village, Sedgefield. (Hallo Richard!) They have turned into this little production art item and I make them all the time. I price them very realistically which is why they sell.

How about someone else out there tells what is happening in their shops? Come on you big spenders, don’t be shy. Don’t you have any work or is all secret stuff?

Bunch of BC Carpenters if you ask me. BC = Before Computers

During lunch on Friday my mom asked me to make her an easel so that she can start painting again. So after a few sketches and a fierce debate I was off the hardware store to get some wood. This is my first attempt at dovetails and burning an image with a soldiering iron. Two days later and it’s done!

So close, there is light, literally and figuratively. I am almost FUNCTIONAL! Ten endless weeks behind me with the help of Max and my gorgeous one. Then the days and days alone, sorting through tools and material. Currently I have few words, just wanted it recorded that I am almost touching heaven. To my brother and those I do not yet know.....let us take hands in spirit and go forward.

I'm not a woodworker, I'm a joola, but I live nextdoor to a woodworker of note, and my Dad was an amazing one.

He passed away some years ago, and my Mom last year, so in 2009 the family home had to be emptied of all it's contents. One of my brothers wanted to rent a big lorry and just cart all the crap away to the dump. Over my dead body I said. so it befell me to do the job, and what a priviledge that was.

Dad's workshop was the most amazing place. During the last few years of his active woodworking years he stopped bothering to clear away the sawdust. "The kids can do it one day" he said, sawing away at yet another piece of wood. When I walked into his workshop, there was this incredible sawdust wonderland, undulating hills and bumps of sawdust. You could not actually identify anything, everything was covered with at least 20cm of sawdust, and much deeper in the corners.

Well, was that an adventure. You never knew what you'd uncover next. There's just a bump of sawdust on the workbench, and in that pile you'd find... a tool? a jig of some sort? a piece of worked wood... a toothbrush; piece of sandpaper, some nails and nut or 2. Scribbled plans and notes. Gadgets of numerous sorts. It was an endless exploration of Dad's workshop life. A lifetimes worth of scrap collecting. It will stay with me always, the miracle of it.

Anyway, amongst other things there were boxes and boxes and boxes of scrap wood. And loose pieces of wood. Each of these had to be upended, the sawdust knocked off each piece of wood, then it could go into a new box of relatively sawdust-free wood. These were carted out and loaded onto the bakkie, driven to the farm and carried into our farmhouse lounge - the appointed temporary storeroom for all that stuff. The bakkie loads of loose wood went into a shed. Some ended up on an old table frame outside, covered with pieces of plastic and old carpets. All Dad's tools are also in trunks and boxes in the lounge, so is the radial arm saw, the wood lathe, plane, etc. Needless to say the lounge is a Gormenghast of boxes and stuff.

So the plan is to build a workshop on our farm, this year. The heart of it will be the woodworking shop, but we also need a place to do metal work, auto mechanics, even perhaps a smithy. (We're not masters of any of these, please note. We're just sort of handy [read: must mess with making things] folk, of the "boer maak 'n plan" ilk ["a farmer makes a plan"]; there's always a gizmo or a gadget of sorts that must be "worked" on.).

Part of this workshop will be storerooms, for all that handy stuff that one just cannot throw away. So, in time, al the precious boxes of scrap wood and other stuff will be carted out yet again, from our lounge to the new workshop. All that wonderful scrap!

I think my brother just mislaid the "s" that turns "crap" into "scrap", a most precious and valuable commodity.

The farm next door used to belong to Oom Helgaard. One day he got tired of the fight, sold the place and became a truck driver for Transand. Some time ago, Oom Helgaard walked into my shop with his .22 rifle, the butt broken in two. At some point someone had tried fixing it with tin and screws, a real Boer maak a plan job. I wanted to ask him exactly how the break came about but thought I might not like the answer, so I stayed quiet.
Oom Helgaard had a nice piece of dark Blackwood with him and could I please make a new butt and how much would it cost. Well, I knew he couldn’t or wouldn’t pay my rates but I still wanted to help him. I lit my pipe and he lit his pipe and we struck a deal. I would band saw the blank and machine the bull nose groove for the barrel; my price a bottle of Tannie Jossie’s green fig jam. He must cut the mortises and do the shaping and finishing. Oom Helgaard had his doubts about the second part of the deal (so had I but I didn’t say it!) but I eventually convinced him he could do it. I made him promise to go and buy a 12mm chisel AND bring it to the shop so I could sharpen it for him.
Next day he dutifully arrived with a brand new Stanley chisel and pronounced it sharp already. I put an edge on the chisel without a word and handed it back to him. “Jislaaik Boetie, ek kan dan skeer met die ding!” With some instructions on first drilling out most of the waste on the mortises, I sent him on his way, hoping for the best and waiting for my fig jam.
A few weeks later, a beaming Oom Helgaard walked in the door to come and show of his handiwork. I was impressed. For someone who last did woodwork when he was at school (and that must be at least 50 years ago!) he had done a stunning job. Sure, there were a few flaws and scratches if you looked closely but the rifle looked great. We talked a little about final finishing and oiling. He was so proud of what he had done and it made me feel good as well.
Oom Helgaard’s parting words to me:” Ou Divvie, daars is eintlik min wat ons nie kan doen nie, maar daar is baie wat ons net nie wil doen nie” (there is very little we can’t do but there is much we just don’t want to do.)

I got my jam, he got his rifle, good vibes were exchanged, all was well.