In Praise of Grey Days

I hate to admit it but over the last six months or so I've come to appreciate cloudy days.  When the sun shines I feel I SHOULD be out walking or riding my bike and in order to do either of those things I SHOULD put on sunscreen and I dislike the greasy feel of it on my face.  Ya, I know, it's a first world problem; suck it up and get out there. I often dither about, end up staying in and then I feel guilty. I'd probably enjoy myself once I got out the door but there's something harsh about the sunlight that makes me feel just a little like hiding. I don't think I'd make it at the coast where the grey days are very frequent and perhaps part of my appreciation for the dull days is that it is sunny here for many of the days in the year regardless of the temperature.

When it's cloudy and a bit chilly I feel somehow justified in staying in. It's as if the weather gives me permission to sit wearing my fuzzy clothes and drink tea. I do those things anyway but when it's dull out I'm more able to put the 'shoulds' to the side and enjoy myself.  Today the sky is overcast and the light tube above my desk casts a soft light. I'm in my warm clothes and I've just finished a cup of tea.  As I head into the shop to sweep up shavings and rearrange things again, I'll continue to ponder what it is that's so appealing about staying in these days and I'll continue to poke at the feeling that it's more acceptable to want to stay in when it's cloudy outside.

These are a few of my favourite things

I have a fondness for certain old objects. Take my tea mug for example.  I remember buying it at a store called Cargo Canada when I was about to move into my first suite.  It isn't especially attractive and I have no particular affinity for fish or fishing, nevertheless it has remained with me for over 40 years and when I reach into the cupboard it's the one I pull out most often.  It's a sort of old friend.


Some of my clothes are old friends too. I have a couple of pairs of bluejeans that are soon going to fall apart and I will continue to wear them until they do. They have long passed the point of being publicly respectable but they are soft and comfortable and I wear them around the house and in the shop.

Similarly ancient is my favourite pair of  shoes.  I don't even remember when I bought them. I wore them hiking for years and now they have been retired from the trails to the shop.  They are real leather and are heavier than similar shoes made today. That comes in useful when I drop things on my feet. There are tears in the lining that make them hard on socks but I like their sturdy support
when I stand most of the day.

I have a fondness for tried-and-true hand tools as well. I have a square with a wooden stock and a steel blade that belonged to my father-in-law. I have other, newer squares but this one is lighter and I prefer the feel of the wooden stock to the steel ones on the engineer's squares I have.

I recently purchased some spoke shaves.  I have written before about the wooden one that belonged to may grandfather.  It's a beautiful little tool and I still use it even though the wooden body has worn down so much that I can no longer set it for a tight shaving.  The ones I bought are a combination of metal and wood which will make them wear better. Still, they are relatively simple tools. Much of woodworking is very simple: a sharp blade and a piece of wood. Whether or not the blade goes spinning around on an arbour at breakneck speed or is a simple piece of steel held in the hands, the principle is the same.

card scraper

Since I began carving spoons I've come to appreciate more than ever how a blade works when it contacts wood and the amazing variety of cuts that can be made with simple tools. Another of my favourite tools is a card scraper, a piece of steel with a hook turned on it. It removes dried glue and plane tracks from surfaces. It is fairly easy to take care of and it takes up a minimum of space.

slotted-head screw

In all this praising of old stuff there are some  things I'm glad I don't encounter very often. Among these is the flat-head, slotted screw. I know they were the only ones available for many years and I thoroughly admire the craftsmen who used them. I seem particularly adept at stripping the slot so that I can neither drive the screw in nor get it out. I'm in the middle of repairing some oak chairs for the church. The two I have looked at so far have dates of 1950 and 1952 on the bottom of the seats, so of course, where there are screws they are slotted. There are 12 screws put in at an angle to hold the seat in place. On the first chair I managed to get the screws out and then put them back in once I had taken the chair apart and reglued it. The process was not without a certain amount of gnashing of teeth and when I added corner blocks to the bottom I used my favourite Robertson screws and a power driver.

Whether it's old or new there are two pertinent questions: does it work and does it suit me? When the answer to both questions is yes, the item and I are in for a long relationship.