Glues and hooves and veneer

Been maintaining blog silence for a while because we've been offline at home while we changed internet provider (Talk Talk truly are abysmal).

In the meantime Kenny the dog has been doubling in length, height and badass attitude and I've managed to acquire some new woodworking knowledge and a few tools to make it look convincing.

My bench adorned with some fetching new tools

Last week was veneering - not a craft for a sensitive vegetarian. I spent most of last week covered in animal glue... a product of melted down hide and hooves that is warmed gently over hot water for use. It smells like something that has died but you do get used to that. 

It is irritatingly sticky and messy though and should only be used by skilled, organised and coordinated craftsfolk. 

I managed to stick myself to the bench and cover my veneer panels with thick residues that will take a week of finishing and polishing classes to remove.

That said, I was chuffed by my veneered panel with Zebrano edging (oh yes) and a line and a jolly 2-tone star in the middle:

Next I start work on my small box. I am making it out of French walnut which is a gorgeous wood with a slightly salmon coloured tone to it. 

French Walnut planed flat

I'm hoping for some precise and eminently beautiful dovetails to join it all together and a stunning veneered lid. It's early days...

I am also learning how to do technical drawings and plans.
This is a plan for a small box

Bonus content... Our visit to Cockings Sawmills, Midhurst, West Sussex.

Precision

After a week of skinning various pieces of wood to reveal their inner beauty, i put down my plane.

In response to my bleatings about RSI, John (Cabinet-maker-in-chief) showed mercy and introduced me to the art of the dovetail joint.

A seasoned dovetailer of his calibre can make the whole exercise in precision look like a simple process of light sawing and delicate wood love with a chisel. I found it slightly less simple.

His show-and-tell session lasted no more than half an hour and resulted in an immaculate no-gaps-joint.

Around six hours later I produced a joint that looked a bit like a set of badly looked after teeth.

He examined my offering while endeavouring to find some small redeeming feature to use as means of encouragement.

He couldn't.

"It's all about precision, you see." he reiterated.

My head swam with examples of my innate lack of precision both practical and intellectual.

Kenny drools over my dovetails

I ignored them and set about a new set of dovetails, my tongue poking out in concentration - like a 6 year old learning to write.

I will learn precision, I will!

Days passed.

I sawed and chiseled away at four further dovetail sets, each one improving minutely in quality on the one before.

The fifth was no triumph but would serve its purpose.

John, probably running out of ways of turning negatives into positives, has redirected me to my cast-aside Clifton jack plane.