I'd been working on top of our kitchen table in the back garden for a couple of hours chopping out the strings with a mallet and chisel, and had driven the table's legs about four inches down into the garden!

But I learned a lot from that job    my first 'biggy'    what with the added difficulty of repairing woodwork in-situ (which requires a lot more skill and patience) and the added inconvenience of the plank.

"I'm not walking up this tomorrow night. You get it finished, or I'll get a builder in. You should have finished it by now. Yer mother'll be breaking her bloody neck... Can you manage, Harriet?  I've got you if you fall."

This was Dad's way of complaining. The  stairs were finished the following night, with not another complaint or sound of a creaking board. What a good feeling that was.

Newly-planed timber still fires my creative juices, and although that fire goes out a little quicker now, its still there.