HATCHET AND BEAR
When I opened the front door to a drizzle infused postman clutching the usual armful of envelopes, it was a Tuesday much like any other. Tear and rip, the junk pile grew larger, whilst the real post remained elusive. The Jiffy bag at the bottom, that had formed the foundation of the postman's precarious stack, revealed a forgotten treat. A while back, (it could have been a matter of days, it could have been a month ago; I forget, the children are soaking up all my waking hours and dissolving the last of my brain cells), I ordered a jar spoon from the ever fragrant Hatchet and Bear. Bursting open the envelope, I got a hit of childhood summers spent grubbing about in my dads shed 'making stuff' an oily, woody, beeswax type smell, evoking further memories of creosote, hot metal and evo stick.
Straight off the knife, faceted walnut that is oblivious to the existence of sandpaper and power tools. It also makes and excellent dining table trebuchet for launching peas at the 2 year old.
'Children are not a distraction from more important work, they are the more important work' C.S.Lewis