It’s 20:22, English time. This is the earliest we’ve been home from the pub in half a fortnight.
Greetings from Mapledurham!
Our hosts couldn’t be better.
We’d like to thank you for the perfect hewing weather. The countryside is impossibly beautiful.
I have never heard such sweet birdsong.
And Hobbits live here:
Culturally, things are just a little different. There’s the whole left-side driving thing, of course. And faucets are sneaky, the way they turn on you suddenly and splash your trousers.
And there’s this:
Nigel, our furry little friend lately come from the West Country, does his best to be an ambassador between nations.
Mind the gap
This is a story about collaboration. We have come to England to work alongside our English brothers to rebuild the stairs at the Tower of London. Specifically, the White Tower stairs.
We visited the very place yesterday to get a sense of where our hewn timbers will be framed up.
The English oak of the new stair frame wants hewing. Lots of hewing.
Graham and Josh do a top job of sawing out tapers and squares on oaks from the estate, using a saw of great vintage and quirky disposition. We then lop off the remaining portion to hew each timber to a size.
So began our work at the yard of Miles & Company.
We were slow to get our sea legs. Jet lag followed us like the chatty red kites above, and it seemed we may not have enough North American hockey tape to keep our barked knuckles from bleeding on The Queen’s timbers.
But we all began to hit our stride soon enough. And even as Johnny Cash led to The Who in our queue, so together did The Yanks and the Brits keep their lines and hew their flats with sharp axes:
God save the Queen!
It’s a special thing, this work. On a personal level, it feels as though my entire woodworking life has been leading toward this opportunity. The work is bone-wearying, back-breaking, and wonderful.
In a larger way, the work is sacred. We are hewing out timbers which millions of people will see, will touch, and which will carry them. We are part of the rebuild of a little part of an icon.
But more important, this is a confirmation of a long friendship between nations.
All of this hung in the very air around us on the 70th anniversary of D-Day. This morning, a formation of English planes flew over our heads as we geared up for the day. Likely they were on the wing to France to honour the fallen. We all paused to watch them. Then we continued with our work.
At tea that day, the subject of verge-trimming came up. It gave us Yanks no small pleasure to hear the Brits laugh with delight when we told them that we call a strimmer a weed whacker.
Friendships old and new.