By
Richard Wilson
Being
an account of a Galoot's trip to the port of Briftol, and
his converfion from ufer to collector, with afforted mufings
and ramblings concerning the old eftablished firm of John
Harvey and fons, and the wondrous iron ship, the Great Britain.
Thofe
of nervous difposition, bored already, or short of time,
- fkip to the fignature for a fummary.
The
beginning
The
vague desire to improve the contents of the toolchest had
been growing and maturing for a couple of years. But it
was the casual mention of an internet site concerned with
nurturing the finer feelings towards old iron and cast steel
that was the real root cause...
It
was early autumn when the call appeared. Innocent enough,
the plain brown envelope was the result of sending five
guineas to the proprietor of a certain Limited company known
as Bristol Design, domiciled in the city of that name. The
envelope contained a small booklet, listing once-new tools
that were for sale. By the time that enquiries could be
made by telling-phone, the Proprietor, Mr Charles Stirling,
an affable gentleman, was apologetic at having already sold
the items which were at once desireable and affordable.
A lull ensued.
Five
guineas is a subscription price, and so when a further envelope
arrived containing another list with full colour pictures
of new bronze planes, and stating that parts at all stages
of completion could be purchased separately it was evident
that an "Expedition" must be arranged. In these days of
living and working 600 miles from home,an Expedition cannot
be arranged without adequate notice, planning and aforethought.
It requires the consent of diverse members of the family,
and a ridiculous amount of diary synchronisation.
It
nearly took place at the tail end of the Christmas holidays.
It didn't, but the seed was sown with the right people,
so it came about that in the middle of January I found myself
with a permit to visit Bristol and spend time in an old
tools shop. The younger members of the family were adamant
that they did not want to go with Dad on one of his weird
visits. So it was, that SWMBO and I found ourselves driving
down the M5, destination - iron.
We
found the shop without any difficulty due to the excellent
map provided on the leaflet. Bristol is a hilly City, and
we parked on a hillside cobbled road side a short way from
the shop. The surrounding buildings spoke eloquently of
times gone by, with the flagstoned footpath six feet above
the road and the drunken looking cottages facing across
to a solid almhouse, or perhaps it was a burghers residence
behind iron railings opposite. Our route on foot back to
the shop took us down the hill on the flagstone pathway.
The quirky footpath ignored the road, and led into the outer
yard of a Church, Saint Michael on the Mount and All Angels
Without. We could not discover what it was that it was without.
Oddly, we were now well above the roadway, with a view across
the city centre and docks area which could have come from
Dickens. The path became a flagged area which curved around
the railings of the churchayard. Were we in a dead end?
No, down a flight of worn stone steps, which disgorged us
into another road, cross the road, into a narrow and delightfully
angular ginnel and down some more worn stone steps, this
time onto a pavement, and our global positioning system
(me!) said that we were very close. Rust was in the air,
and like a hound on a scent we stopped and scanned right,
left... aha. Five yards past the ginnel exit a suitably
ancient looking shop front declared itself to be Bristol
Design Limited. We were definitely entering a time portal.
SWMBO
was not looking impressed. We entered, and were surrounded
by a dusty feast of old tools and parts of dusty old tools
and dust. Christine's first words were "I think I'll get
a coffee, where is the nearest coffee shop?". The lady behind
the counter obligingly directed Christine to a nearby cafe,
and pausing only to remove my credit cards, she left, promising
to return in one hour, when the parking meter time would
have elapsed.
My
old tools fund is now held in cash (hehehe!) so the credit
card embargo wasn't a problem. I began to look around. Christine
was right about the dust, but the lady (I'll call her Freda,
for I foolishly neglected to ask her name) told me that
they had just had a new floor put in at the back. She had
in fact just been dusting some of the tools. The shop is
layed out on traditional lines. Imagine yourself back on
the pavement for a moment. The doorway is to your left,
a plate galss window at the right. As you approach, you
see that the entrance forms a tiny porch, what is or was
the doorway to the living quarters in times gone by faces
youand the door to the shop opens on your right as you step
in from the pavement.
Suddenly,
you are standing on a tiny bit of clear floor surrounded
by tools which cover shelves up to the ceiling. A moment
or two before the eye begins to distinguish detail. Almost
hidden behind what seems to be a mountain of tools, but
is really a laden counter, Freda is sitting sketching. (I'll
call her Freda, for I foolishly neglected to ask her name)
In front of the counter, a tiered set boxes holding chisels
and oddments, above the counter, a shelf with an assortment
of smoothers, including the first Millers Falls plane I've
handled. On the wall beside the door, sitting on a dark
blue cloth, are some tiny squares, a couple of thumb planes,
machinist stuff. Behind the counter, more shelve4s, this
time with a bronze collection, old and new, mainly the new
planes produced by Bristol Design. In the centre of the
shop a fixture laden with more assorted goodies.
The
shop and its contents are a match. You couldn't consider
a shopfull of this kind of stock in new premises.
Down
to business, I had e-mailed ahead to ask about number eights,
and so on introducing myself, a round half dozen were produced.
High knobs, Low knobs, eventually I selected one which was
in need of a session of love and care. For 49 pounds sterling,
I brought away a chipped tote, body which looks as though
it recently suffered a bad attack of angle grinder or wire
wheel, and complete with two holes through the sole which
mutely and sadly testified to an absent user fence. It spoke
to me. It said "I was once crisp and new, but no longer.
With care to the body, a new tote bespoked to my grip, new
blade, attention from a file, and some overall polishing
and waxing I can do my job of jointing once more." How could
I resist? It's certainly not lovely (yet) but I *am* a *user*
and not a colle*tor.
I hadn't
long, only an hour, and so much to see. Blades were on my
shopping list, so I was directed to what had been the hallway
of the living quarters. Now a very dusty corridor lined
once again with shelves to the ceiling. Narrow shelves these,
only a few inches on one side, holding new old plane irons.
Racks of them - all pleasantly covered in dust, grease,
and rust. Just say (TM) there are blades to suit all requirements.
There is also a wondrous selection of new carving tools
and chisels which are produced by Bristol Design. In appearance
at least, they looked superlative. Also out of place amongst
the wall to wall old tools. The same rows of shelves held
castings for the range of bronze planes, and these also
came in for close scrutiny. They are sand castings to a
good standard, and I toyed with buying a wedge and a set
for a mitre plane, but I have much else to do before I could
work with them.
Pushing
further into the interior I cama across ranks of moulding
planes, but could you believe that I passed them by? So
much to see, so little time.
I remembered
I had a wooden router being held for collection, and whilst
Freda was looking for this, I happened across another smaller
wooden router which said very clearly "Take me Home!", so
I did. I think I just became a collector. Some old blades
also came home, and so did that larger original mahogany
router.
The
completed and polished bronze planes which are on display
are certainly worth drooling over, but I'm determined on
doing some planemaking of my own in steel, so my attention
was caught by the shoulder planes at the rear of the shop,
and it was whilst I was examining a Record 73 which had
a small chip at the mouth that Charles Stirling appeared.
"There's another one in the back." he announced, and conducted
me behind the counter to the stairwell.
More
shelves! This time a ladder was available, and up I went.
A veritable nest of crispy old iron. It was as though they
were roosting near the ceiling. After some fondling, and
another trip up the ladder to examine more shelves, a Record
73 was added to the growing collection - oops, I mean ‘assemblage'
.... on the countertop.
By
the time Christine appeared, Charles and I were in conversation,
I had been through the beat up stuff, and I was handling
the prize, expensive Norton, Spiers etc smoothers and panel
planes, sorry not to have the budget for one. The new planes
came out from the cupboard - now they *are* something. Solid
and with plenty of heft, fitted with a Norris type adjuster,
and filled with some very tasty timber.
Christine
had returned, but before being dragged away I snagged a
very cheap No 4 1/2 (also needs care and a tote) and ended
by leaving my copy of the St. James Bay brochure with Charles
for study. It was said that Bristol Design castings had
been used as patterns for the St James product line, which,
considering the similarities of product line and appearance,
seems possible. I have no axe to grind, I merely report
the comment.
Time
for the promised splendid lunch (as thanks for coming).
A short period of geographical inexactitude followed, concluded
by parking before the uassuming premises of John Harvey
& Sons, wine importers, and inventors of the Bristol Cream
blend of sherry.
A restaurant
was mentioned, so we went into and through the wine shop
(*very* tasteful!) to the museum beyond. What has this to
do with the oldtools charter? Well, below ground, through
winding anciente passages is the story of Briftol Cream,
and a complete set of coopers tools, with a stuffed cooper
holding a plane. The tools are in absolutely spiffy condition.
I handled some I could reach - (naughty?) A most excellent
curved bottomed plane for putting the ridge inside the barrel
staves, and just about everything you might need to start
up in business. The stuffed cooper evidently wasn't a collector
though - he only had one of anything.
The
inside of a (17th Century) pub has been recreated, with
equally excellent quality furniture. Nothing ostentatious,
just very, very high quality antiques. Oh, there were a
load of unique glasses from 16xx onwards too. And that's
where I acquired the curious fpelling of wordf with ff's.
(They're not really f's - they are vertically enhanced s's)
That
was unexpected - included a generous glassful of the product
too, but still no lunch, so on to the next appointment -
the SS Great Britain, first Iron Ship. In the ‘Heritage
Centre' of which is a display of boat building. A touch
superficial, but worthy of record after the recent thread
on adzes, as the stuffed adze weilding galoot was shaping
a *very* large knee in prototype fashion, with the adze
aimed for a point about at ankle level, with the knee propped
and wedged. The Great Britain's woodwork is all new, and
merely hints at what once was, the only galootish interest
being in the final working mainmast, which is laid alongside,
and therefore affords a view of the cross section. Four
trees, squared off and (probably) cog jointed together to
give a square section, then more trees attached to give
the round section to each face. The whole having iron bands
top and bottom. I couldn't find signs of any pegs through
the layers of paint.
Finally,
for those who may be wondering, I treated the woman I love
and spend so much time away from to a stylish lunch in a
quayside caff, redolent of split PVC seats, and with a pervasive
‘chips with everything' aroma. (That's ‘fries' for ‘muricans)
So,
next day the toolchests had a spring clean to make room
for some new iron, during which I found a number of tools
I had forgot. Some new files, a new spare blade for my 4
1/2. A couple of cabinet scrapers.... All I have to do is
a complete tune and rebuild on the new bench planes. My
but I'm looking forward to ‘using' the 73 though.
Charles
Stirling can be reached at 10010.1433@compuserve.com.
Management
Summary
I went
to Bristol Design, bought tools, visited exhibitions of coopering,
shipbuilding, and the SS Great Britain. Came home, holed in
wallet, but now a collector of routers.
