There's a particular kind of Monday evening that I've come to look forward to more than I probably let on. The workshop's set up, the camera's on, and the Zoom window fills with familiar faces from all over the UK, Europe, the US and Canada.

The sociologist Ray Oldenburg coined the term "third place" to describe spaces that exist outside home and work – cafes, pubs, community centres, places where identity isn't defined by domestic duty or professional role. These spaces, he argued, are essential for social health and personal wellbeing.

As winter turns to spring, I wanted to share what's happening in the workshop and what I'm excited about for the months ahead.

I have been talking about the Golden Ratio for years. In the book, in workshops, on YouTube, in just about every conversation I have about form and design at the lathe. It is, without exaggeration, one of the most useful concepts I have ever come across as a maker. Not because it gives you a formula for perfection, but because it gives you a starting point for proportion.

The question comes up regularly: "Am I too old to learn woodturning?" The answer is always the same: Can you stand comfortably at a lathe and grip a tool? Then you can turn.

If you've been with Turner's Journey from the beginning of this season, you might remember how it all started. Back in June 2025, I introduced Season 2 sitting by a lake, saying that I do an awful lot of my best thinking when I come fishing. It felt right to end the season in the same place.

I've been thinking a lot about Turner's Journey lately, about what it is, how often it should land, and where it goes from here. After all your generous comments and suggestions over recent weeks, I've decided to bring this first season to a close at Episode 30.

There's a physiological connection between our hands and our wellbeing that goes deeper than psychology. Studies have shown that engaging in creative handwork reduces cortisol (the stress hormone), increases dopamine (associated with satisfaction and reward), and can even lower blood pressure.

Some weeks in the workshop are about making things on the lathe. Others are about making things happen around it. This one was firmly in the second camp.

If you've read Woodturning: Form and Formula (that talks about proportion, design, and the visual language of turned forms) and have enjoyed the more philosophical social media posts I’ve written recently, you'll know I like to think about the craft in ways that go beyond the technical. My new book one goes somewhere different. Deeper, I think. More personal, certainly.
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Woodturning can be a solitary craft. There's beauty in that solitude – just you and the lathe, the quiet focus, the meditative rhythm of making. But craft also grows through connection, through seeing how others approach the same challenges.

This week on Turner's Journey, it's been a mixed bag of workshop life. I've been filming a new video for the Byte-Size Workshop on tool rest height, prepping pen blanks (not my favourite job, I'll be honest), and I made the early-morning drive over to Sandon Woodturners in Essex for a demonstration.

I've spent over a decade at the lathe. People sometimes ask what keeps me coming back, why I'm still as engaged now as I was on day one. The easy answer is that I love making things. The fuller answer involves what's happening in my brain while I work.

Some days in the workshop are about grand projects. Others are about the less glamorous stuff that keeps everything running. This was one of those days.

I can tell when a student has found it – that moment when everything else falls away and there's just the wood, the tool, and the shape taking form. Their posture changes. Their breathing steadies. The outside world stops mattering for a while.

One of the highlights of the week was a demonstration for my Woodturning 360 Club. Les presented a really excellent session, turning a nicely proportioned box with a finial-style lid while explaining a range of hollowing techniques.

Some of what I’m talking about here might be a bit controversial, but it’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while and I feel it’s worth saying openly.

A student once told me she'd been thinking about taking a woodturning course for three years before she finally signed up. Three years of imagining, researching, watching videos, collecting mental notes.

In this episode of Turner’s Journey, I’m deep into end-of-year prep and getting everything ready for 2026. Teaching has finished for 2025, so I’m using this quieter period to restructure the lessons, rebuild the website from the ground up, and add extra value to the student experience.

I need to tell you something that might seem contradictory coming from someone who's invested thousands of hours in online content: YouTube is a brilliant starting point, but it's a terrible finishing school.