A CARPENTER'S STORY - FIRST STEPS

IN CARVING 

About 10 years ago, I purchased a book called 'Carving Letters in Wood' by Master craftsman Cris Pye. I said to my wife Judith “ I really would like to have a go at doing that”. Being a graphic artist in the print, I have always loved letters and typography and Cris's book, brought an interest in wood and typography together. On two occasions in the past I had been asked to sign write two large bible verses for church. The first one I did with my dad and the second one on my own. But these were painted, not carved, like letters in churches should be. I wanted to carve letters that you could touch and run your fingers through, letters you could read with your fingers and not just with your eyes.

But having the book “Carving Letters in Wood” was like having Bert Weedon's book on how to play the guitar, without actually owning one. I had the book, but not the tools. I had no chisels, mallets or timber. I was miles away from being able to have a go at carving. The chisels seemed expensive to buy and you needed a lot of them! I realised that even if I was able to get all the equipment required, I needed a workshop or, at the very least, a work bench. A lot carpentry books I have looked at, the man writing it, invariably has the biggest shed or workshop you can imagine and every tool under the sun. So, my book stayed on the shelf, and was only taken down every now and again, the dust wiped off, looked through, then put back on the shelf. During one of these rare moments, I manged to spill a cup of coffee over it, so it was stained and some of the pages were then stuck together.

Then, as is so often the case, my long suffering wife stepped in and got me kick started. Judith had bumped into Bill Hudson, who she new from activities she had taken our kids to at Art in the Park, in Burgess Park. Bill said that he was running a workshop “An introduction into wood carving” - all tools and materials supplied, first lesson FREE. So she booked me a place for a weeks time. 

Bill Hudson is a local wood worker and artist. To my surprise no one turned up, except me of coarse. Rather than abandon the class through lack of local interest, Bill, like the gentlemen he is asked me the the question. “So what would you like to carve then?” I think my answer surprised him a little. “Well to be honest I am not really interested in carving figures or animals as such, what I really want to know is how to carve letters.” “Oh” Bill said, “I have not really done much carving of letters, but I can give you the basics” And so my carving journey began.

Bill started me off by giving me a fairly large chisel or gouge and a mallet and said “ here you are, get used to the feel of the tools in your hand and just bash this timber. I can't remember exactly what the wood was but it was certainly a hardwood as opposed to a soft wood. On the whole you can't really carve what would be classed as a softwood. But there are exceptions to this rule (e.g. balsa, is softer than most softwoods, while yew is an example of a "hard" softwood). For a wood to be classed as a hardwood, it would come from a deciduous tree. Meaning every year the tree sheds it's leaves (oak, walnut, beech, ash, cherry, maple etc). Whereas softwood comes from evergreen trees, which account for about 80% of the world's timber and it tends to grow quicker. That's about as scientific I want to get at this point.

Anyway back to my first lesson. After about half and hour of bashing the same piece of timber, my arm was aching and my fingers tingling. Maybe this carving wasn't for me after all. But after a short rest and a cup of tea I continued. Bill instructing me how to best hold the chisel, the angle and so on. Bill also gave an over view of his chisel collection, men and their tools, he must have had between 30-40 different ones, all shapes and sizes. As he talked about them, it was like a father talking about his children. So ended my first lesson, I was hooked from then on. I was eager to return the following week and have another go. Unable to practice at home, I thumbed through my “carving letters” book. This time I had a little bit more understanding as to what Cris Pye meant and the terms he used, and what was involved, if I was to master this craft. 

I would spend the next few months, one night a week attending the Carving Club as it became know. One night sticks out in particular for me. It was the time of the London riots, a week of madness, destruction and looting. I had gone to the club in the early evening when it was bright and still sunny. In the class we chattered away, carving in between cups of tea and biscuits. Not knowing just a short distance away in the Old Kent Road, it had all kicked off, big time. Shop windows had been kicked in, mayhem and looting was taking place. When I left at about 9.30pm into the darkness of Burgess Park, oblivious to the nights events on the street, I was carrying a large piece of wood. In the other direction, coming my way, was a gang of hoddies carrying not their latest carvings, but instead the latest wide screen TV's. Thankfully I got home safely.

AS AN APPRENTICE

When I started working as an apprentice carpenter with Mears - a contractor for Southwark Council, I never realised what an eye opener it would be. What an insight I would have into how the multicultural people of Southwark choose to live, for better or worse. But the first thing I had to get over as an apprentice at the age of 49 is that people don't believe you when you tell them you are an apprentice. Some thought it was a bit of a joke, in some instances some of the men I worked with thought I was some sort of plant, put there by the management to spy on the workers, a sort or undercover boss. For a time my nick name was Undercover Boss, even after a year or so working with all sorts of men in all sorts of trades, there were still one or two who still weren't certain. It takes time in this environment to earn the respect of the men working around you. After 3 years I hope I have done that now. 

According to their website, Southwark Council are the largest local authority social landlord in London. They are committed to making Southwark a great place for all 55,000 tenants and home owners to live. So you can imagine it is a full time job to keep all these properties maintained and the residences who reside in them happy. 

My first day as a trainee carpenter, I was put with a plumber, no carpenters being available at the time, and I have pretty much been with plumbers ever since. As an apprentice carpenter I spent more time with my hands on plastic/cooper pipe and related fittings then timber. 

The very first door we knocked on, we were in search of a leak coming from above in a block of flats in Camberwell. Leak's from above seem to be one the greatest cause of misery to people than almost any other repair problem, more of that later though. But back to that very first knock. A rather large lady opened the door to us, nothing unusual in large ladies in Southwark I hear you say, especially with all those fried chicken shops in the area. But what was unusual, was that standing behind her was her even larger son, who was completely naked and partially covered in some sort of white skin cream.

I must admit, I had been warned by my plumber friend “to expect the unexpected and just carry on as normal and do the job you have been sent to do. So we entered the property and in my naivety expected the son to retreat to the nearest bedroom to cover his modesty. But how wrong I was, for the next 10 to 15 minutes we went room to room searching for the leak, accompanied by mum with her son walking around completely starkers. The leak turned out to be coming from some corroded bathroom taps. We then had to go to the flat below, where the leaking taps were causing all the misery. I knocked on the door, to bring the good news that the leak had been found and it will be repaired straight away. Expecting to have a pleased resident open the door to me, I was immediately brought down to earth, buy a rather angry tattooed lady, who said “that I had knocked on her door to loudly and she thought I was the police, because only they knocked on the door like that”. When she saw my pass she soon calmed down and was happy I wasn’t the local Old Bill and I was welcome to come in. “It’s OK, I don’t need to come in, I can give you the good news from the doorstep”.

But as I said ‘the leak from above’ can ruin people’s lives. Now most leaks can be solved reasonably quickly, the problem comes is when the leak is coming from a tenant who won’t co-operate or a leaseholder, who lives above a council tenant. The vast majority of leaseholders in my experience don’t live in the property they lease, but instead rent it out to others at know small gain to themselves. Now the council if they are allowed to enter a leaseholder’s property to find a leak, have no power to fix that leak, it has to be the done by the leaseholder unless given permission to do so. Very often by the time this is done the damage has already been done, leaks can go on for weeks or even months, if the leaseholder or difficult tenant doesn’t act quickly or in some cases just ignores the problem and hope it goes away. The Council can on occasions make a forced entry or even take people to court, but again this can take ages, and is no comfort for those affected as the water continues to flow.

One such event took place on my rounds. I wasn’t called to a leak from above, but to do some mould treatment on a bathroom ceiling. When I arrived at the property the door was opened by an elderly couple. What struck you full on, as the door opened was the overpowering terrible smell or damp. As I entered the bathroom it was apparent, this wasn’t a small amount of mould this was an extreme case. Again this was being caused by a leak coming from above. As the old couple showed me round their home it was very obvious that this elderly couples home had been ruined and some of their rooms were uninhabitable. The main bedroom had buckets everywhere collecting the droplets of water, the double bed was soaked and all the wall paper was literally hanging of the wall. As for the mould in the bathroom it was like something from a swamp, it was obviously unhealthy. I left that home feeling upset and angry. Upset that this poor couple had been living like this for months and because they were old and frail, didn’t want to make a fuss, they were living in misery. And angry, that I discovered that the flat above was a leaseholder who was renting it out to someone else. That the flat was in a terrible state with rubbish everywhere and the bathroom was again the source of the water leak. The tiles were all coming of the wall, no bath panel, and no tiles on the bathroom floor and the pipe work was in need or renewing. But there was nothing we could do straight away, except report it.

Finally but by no means least and probably the saddest of them all. A families home had been plighted by water for months, but when I investigated where the water was coming from it wasn’t a leaseholders home it was a pipe that ran through the whole block. But whilst looking for the leak I knocked on a door of an elderly gentleman, it was towards the end of the day and it was winter. When he came to the door it was clear his home was in total darkness. “Are your lights not working sir” I asked. He told me he had had no electricity for several years. He had given up topping up his electricity, because it swallowed up all his money, the people before had accumulated a large bill on the key meter and every time he put money on the key, it went straight away. In the end he gave up, it was too expensive. He showed me round his tiny home, all he had was a couple of candles giving him light. He had no means of cooking hot food. On his wall were pictures of his children and grand children. Did they not know how there dad was living? You can only judge by what you see at times, I contacted a local councillor that I knew and they were able help the gentlemen with his many varied problems.

A CARPENTER'S STORY - BEGINNINGS

Well I did it, I finally did it. Three years of my life, dedicated to learning. But now I am a qualified Carpenter/Joiner, City and Guilds Level 3. At least that is what the certificates will say when they finally arrive through my letter box. I can officially say, I have changed my occupation from graphic artist to carpenter or chippy. But I can honestly say I don't really feel that I can really call myself a carpenter just yet. I still feel more comfortable in front of a computer screen with a mouse in my hand, getting to grips with Photoshop, than I do with hanging a new street door and fitting all the locks.

To call yourself a carpenter/joiner you need many years of practice and experience. At 52 years if, God willing, I reach retirement, I might be able to say, yes I was a carpenter. Working as a maintenance man for Southwark Council is probably not the best environment to hone and practise your new skills as a carpenter, youre more likely to be handling, plastic and chipboard than timber. But maybe I will touch on that in another blog in the future.

The craft of carpentry goes back to the very beginning of man's existence on this earth. I remember many years ago doing a series of Bible talks for some young people on a camp. The subject was Noah. I told the children that Noah had a lot in common with Jesus, who would arrive many years later. Noah as well as being a preacher and a saviour, was a carpenter too. He had to be a skilled carpenter if he was a going to build an ark or gopher wood, which would be used to save the world. Jesus was firstly a carpenter, then a preacher and finally a saviour, crucified on a cross of wood.

My journey into carpentry has much more humble beginnings, and there is no large amounts of water involved, thank goodness! Though once, when putting back some floors in a council house, I did manage to place a screw directly into a copper water pipe. Thankfully, that day, a plumber was on hand, to put right a potentially disastrous situation, avoid a flood and a call to Direct Line.

My journey started with my lovely Dad, Sidney Walter Whitton. My dad was never a carpenter, but like men of that generation, who had lived through the war, he seemed, to a young lad like myself, to be able to do just about everything: fix my bike, mend my toys and make things work that didn't. My dad had several jobs after the war, the most scary of which was that of a steeple jack. I have pictures of him at the top of these enormous tall chimneys, dangling there in very basic bosun's chair, a piece of wood and some rope. No hard hat, no safety clothing, just a bare torso, painting away, smiling and laughing, not scared at all. I miss my Dad terribly sometimes. Just writing this brings back so many memories. When Dad wasn't working, which he was, 6 full days a week, and half day on Sunday sometimes, up and down the country, he was making things at home. I think my mum missed him a great deal when he was working away from home. But when he made things, it was not always with wood but rather with metal like brass and aluminum. He made buses, canons, planes, a sword etc and all in miniature and from scratch, no kits. He would sit at a little table or in the kitchen, a cup of tea next to him, a woodbine cigarette smoking away in the ash try (in the days before he gave up and became addicted to Polo mints). There he would use a small vice, along with an assortment of tools and put together these one-of-a-kinds. My older brother Steve obviously inherited that love of all things metal. He worked with my dad for several years and went on to own his own foundry in Charlton.

But my dad also put his hand to making things out of wood. He made wooden forts for soldiers, a full size sewing box for mum, a miniature sewing box, a tiny model of the Cutty Sark, crib boards and small tables. One of the small tables he made, I can only describe as a double top table. On one top he painted a simple chess board and on the other a colourful bird. It's these memories that maybe placed a seed in me and gave me that interest in wood and the desire to make things.

I am 52 as I write this and some might say I have left it a bit late to life to begin a new career as a carpenter. For 32 years of my life, since leaving school in 1980, I worked in the print industry. For the greater part of those 32 years, I was an artworker or a graphic artist. I assumed that would always be my trade until retirement or death, whatever came first. But life doesn’t always turn out like you plan, or hope for. In my 32 years in the print I had just 4 jobs and pretty much continuous employment in that time. But then I lost my job, the details of which I have tried to forget. Thereafter followed a period of over 2 years where I was out of work. Anyone who has been out of work for a long period will know how difficult it is, especially when you have a family. It grinds you down, reduces your confidence, makes you feel useless, and make you think you'll never be employed again. But worst of all is the stigma that clings to you. That said, those two plus years had some real highs as well. The extra time I got to spend with my family was probably the biggest advantage. But also, in that time, I took a Post Graduate course in Design, became a volunteer gardener and took up wood carving.

Then one day a friend I knew at Southwark Council suggested, “why don't you try for one of the apprenticeships on offer at the council”. I thought to myself “me an apprentice, at the age of 49, your joking....aren’t apprentices young people who have just left school, still covered in spots and living with mum and dad? What hope do I have of becoming an apprentice at my age, married with 4 children?”

But, I swallowed what pride I had left and looked at the vacancies on offer. Amongst the list of various office jobs, there was also a sign maker, a surveyor, a cemetery worker, a plumber and a carpenter. So I went for the position of apprentice carpenter with Mears, a maintenance contractor with the council. After 3 interviews, 2 tests and a six month process, for some reason they picked me.

Three years on, I find myself writing about my experiences, carpentry, wood carving and working for the council. As I said at the beginning, I maybe be a qualified carpenter on paper, but I am not worthy of the title yet. In my opinion carpenters are some of the most skillful people there are. They build houses, boats, churches, furniture, areoplanes, wheels, toboggans etc, the list is endless. In a book I just finished reading, called 'The man who made things out of trees' by Robert Penn, it mentions the fact that carpenters were even employed in the early days of the car industry, when the car frames were made out of ash wood. In the 1960's the London Routemaster buses were still built with wooden structural bodies. There is also a company today who make wooden bike frames, a bit pricey though at £2000. In his book he was able to get over 40 different objects made from just one ash tree. From wooden wheels to a simple tent peg, made by carpenters and related trades.

One of the reasons I chose to be come a carpenter, was that by becoming one, I would never be out of work again. Let's hope that’s the case. Anyway, I hope you have enjoyed chapter one of this story and you stick with me in the weeks and months to come. So I can share with you, the stories behind my carvings, working as a carpenter for the council, and maybe even how to make things out of wood.