Workshops and other playthings!

One of my favorite places to play as a child was in my father's workshop.  It was like Aladdin's  cave.  Bolted onto his main workbench was an enormous vice-grip, and underneath the bench were all sorts of exciting things, including pieces of wood in all shapes and sizes.  There were small block like pieces, which could be turned into make believe cars.  There was many an occasion when my cousin from the next door farm and I would construct roads, and tunnels, and bridges in a large pile of sand, which was going to be used in the building of our new house.  We would drive our "cars" round and round and up and down, and through and over, for hours on end.  I have three boy cousins of the same age and each one in turn were wonderful playmates, all with their own unique way of making games exciting,

In the centre of the workshop was a gigantic Anvil.  It was bolted to a large log, which in turn was embedded into the cement floor.  In the left hand corner was an old Forge, which was used from time to time in either mending or refashioning parts of farm implements.  My father would light a coal fire in the centre of the Forge, and I would be allowed to turn the handle which worked the bellows.  I don't know why I found this to be such an exciting activity, but for me it was thrilling to watch the piece of steel gradually turn bright orange, before being placed on the Anvil and hammered into the required shape.  Most farmers relied on their home grown skills, as money was often in short supply. Welding apparatus and circular saws were stock in trade.

One of the exciting games my father invented to keep me out of his hair, was to give me the task of cleaning the engine of one of the tractors.  He would pour some petrol (gasoline) into a jam tin, and give me an old rag and a small paint brush.  I took this job very seriously, and made sure I brushed the petrol into all the oily nooks and crannies, before wiping them clean with my rag.

My father however, did have this strange idea that you were taught lessons on the job.  If for example you happened to be messing around under his workbench, while he was clamping something into the vice grip, he would accidentally on purpose allow the handle of the vice grip to fall through the hole and hit you on the head.  He would then say "Ahhh, you must take more care and watch what you're doing!" He also had this strange idea that we all had to be toughened up by going through hardships.  My poor misguided father had no conception that resilience and confidence only come about through love, kindness, acceptance and the building up of little people.  It would take me many decades to undo the damage of his strange philosophy.