TJ Episode 26: A Rainy Day, a Perished Hose, and Some Honest Thinking
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.
It's been grey and wet here, the kind of weather that makes you grateful for a dry workshop and something practical to get on with. I'd just finished filming a short video for the Bite-Size Workshop on turning a slimline pen using nothing more than a spindle roughing gouge.
I had Sunday afternoon to tackle a job I'd been putting off for far too long: replacing the dust extractor hose out the back of the workshop. After six or seven years, the thing had perished to the point where the extractor felt like it was sucking through a colander. Not ideal.
Of course, nothing's ever straightforward. The hose was buried behind a wall of overgrown ivy and brambles, which I discovered the hard way when a few thorns found their way through my shirt. Gloves retrieved, I pressed on, only to realise the metal pipe stopped short of where I needed it. Cue a bit of head-scratching about how we'd put the ceiling up back in 2020, and whether I could remember how to take it down again.
Eventually, the new hose went in and the extractor now works like it's brand new. Small victories.
On the Turner's Journey front, I've been doing some thinking. Since Christmas, I've struggled to get back into a regular filming routine. Part of it is time, part of it is that I'm writing another book in the evenings, and part of it is simply falling out of the habit. The six-week buffer I built up last year has all but vanished, and I'm at a crossroads.
Do I keep going weekly and risk running on empty? Do I switch to fortnightly and give myself breathing room? Or do I take a short break to rebuild the buffer and come back stronger?
I genuinely don't know the answer yet. If you have thoughts, I'd love to hear them. This series has always felt like a conversation, and your input matters.
On a brighter note, I've started putting my photography background to use during lessons. When students don't need constant supervision, I've been capturing them at work, the concentration, the small triumphs, the mess of shavings around their feet. I send the photos afterwards as a memento, and with their permission, I use some for marketing. Everyone wins. The feedback has been lovely, and it's reminded me how much I enjoy that side of things.
The first of my Sunday Sessions is coming up too. These are informal days where turners can come to the workshop, work on their own projects, and I'm on hand to help if they get stuck. Not a lesson, just a chance to turn alongside others and get things done. There's something valuable about that kind of shared making time.
So that's where things stand. A fixed extractor, some honest reflection, and a stack of lesson photos to sort through. Not every episode can be about turning something beautiful. Sometimes it's about keeping the workshop running and thinking out loud about what comes next.