We are often told that we must be proud of our humble homes. This is generally written in magazines that then tell us we must renovate said humble homes and the quotes will start at $10,000. The pictures that we are shown in the ads are generally bare and minimalist. A Shaker would look at them and feel deprived. Corbusier would draw doodles and curlicues on the sideboard. In short – they are selling you the chance to live in nothing at all for a tidy round sum of money.
I have concluded that this is a load of, and have decided to make my decorating statement upon the Rooseveltian principle; I shall do what I can with what I have, where I am. To that end I have designed my modelling workshop – it is in the heading picture.
You see a combination of fortune and stinginess.
A cabinet that once housed dental instruments – bought at great expense in 1969 and never sold off.
A cheap hanging motor from the local DIY shop
An X-Acto jigsaw that has survived all my married life.
Discarded bookshelves rescued from the verge.
A cardboard office organiser.
Birthday, Christmas, and Father’s Day presents. That’s the good stuff.
A picture of my late father as inspiration.
His bench vice. Probably his only vice.
The drafting table that only gets used for serious projects. Most plans are drawn on a clipboard in builder’s crayon.
The shop teachers of my youth would reel in horror, but then they were the sort of men who hung tools on pegboards. I have tried to follow their example but eventually everything comes tumbling off the wall. Perhaps that happened to their careers as well.
The only thing I am sure of in my modelling shop is that I can do it. I may not do it well, and it may not last, but for a brief period of time there is always something succeeding. It is all I can ask for.