Each time I come to write one of these posts, I feel a need to apologise for a long delay. Perhaps it’s my propensity for feeling guilt at everything, perhaps the time passes too quickly to keep up. This summer has been no exception, and Willow and I found
There's always a prior job to do; a pre-task that needs finishing before the job that is actually next on the list can be attempted. It's usually a fix, or an assembly; I will have bought something to do a task with before I'm
I have a funny relationship with money. Love-hate, one might say. I love it, it hates me; or to put it another way, we are diametrically opposed in our outlook and aims in life. This year I've so far tried several different ways of charming it into my
Bringing the sunshine to midwinter Funny how time is passing in a haze here. As I started to write this post in January, the opening line of 'Storm after storm batters us this winter, from the rains of the Autumn and pre-Christmas weeks, to the winds of the new
A Post For Rob and Lorna It’s been a while since I opened this page to type. Not that it hasn’t been on my mind throughout; and the lack of published prose has become a bit of a stick with which I have begun to beat myself; so
The Restless Forge is- or will be- a working smithy housed on a narrowboat called ‘Murphy’s Game’ (nee MORLAS). This boat is a vehicle for many things; from the workaday minutiae of any forge- the commissions and repairs- to a base for teaching blacksmithing to others. It is also,
Let’s walk and talk for a minute, if you will. It’s been a month since I started writing this post, or almost a month; and quite a month at that. As I typed the first line of this post on my phone, I strolled up the towpath to
A not-so quick update
A call to arms and hands
On temporality, and the passing fad of industry
On the conclusion, and on moving on in a different way
A big day of it, 8 and a half hours without a by-your-leave or a stop for coffee. 14 locks, three canals, the M6 and the Aston Expressway, and finishing the day digging down past the pilings to find somewhere to anchor the mooring chain. We did the Birmingham run