Confession time

One of the benefits of our glacial speed in building this thing has been that, at least, each step has been well thought through and planned before we actually finish our tea, get off the sofa and get into action.

"But at my back I always hear

Time’s wingèd chariot hurrying near;

And yonder all before us lie

Deserts of vast eternity."

I had a bit of a rush of blood the other day: we had three of our four oars under way: one at such an advanced stage that, if you left the lights off and squinted, it looked almost finished... The others were taking shape nicely and that only left number four, which needed a bit of adjustment and some joining of pieces before assembly.

I acted in haste. Rashly. Impetuously. Precipitously.(I have to cover the options before Joe has a go at me). The result was, well, er, that I built the damn thing upside down.

How can an oar be built upside down, you may ask? If you are really interested, remember we mentioned that the loom consisted of a box with two sides, a base and a cap? Well, the cap and the base are of different thickness and I, in my headlong dash, had attached the spoon pieces to the loom while it was cap down, not cap up. If we had made the same mistake with them all, it might not have mattered, since, though they might have looked a little strange, at least they'd all be the same.

A base

A cap, up

There was nothing for it, but to remove the spoon pieces and swap them over. However, since I had also merrily hacked away with saw and chisel at the loom, we had to splice in a new section. We just happened to have a spare loom knocking around, which we cut to size. (Ask Joe about where that came from).

The repair insert ready for glueing

All a huge waste of time, though I have to say that the challenge of rectifying the error was great fun.

Now we're back on track...

You can't see the join