With the tool chest completed, I have been ‘moving on’ to other projects. Here is an update on my work to date.

If we have time, we are due to make a stepladder. Not everyone starts or completes this project during their 12 weeks in Joinery, but that’s the goal (and a deck beam to boot). The stepladder has a fold down platform and, to get a bit of boatbuilding joinery in on the act, the platform is made up of a grating – like on the cabin sole of a yacht – or a shower tray!

Lots of joints and a need for accuracy, but the result is very pleasing. “So sharp, you’d better be careful not to cut yourself,” was the pleasing comment from the head of the school, Barnaby.

Next a bollow plane. A bollow is used to hollow! We will use it to shape the blades of oars. Chiselling out the recesses was quite tricky!

We will be making spars later, so have made a spar gauge, which is used to mark lines along the spar, in order to help us plane it from a square section of timber into a round one. More on that in due course. For now, here’s the finished article.

Last, but not least, we have to make a spirit level. This was a really satisfying little piece, and I am pleased with the result, duly stained … with Peacock oil, no less!

With these smaller projects duly completed, I am pleased to report that I have started my stepladder today. A couple of the lads are a day or two ahead of me, and have found it really challenging, so I hope it doesn’t throw up too many difficulties and I can make good progress.

My, how time flies! Lots to report, but first, an update on my Tool Chest.

After getting the lid adjusted to the base with no gaps, it was time to get the hinges on, and the weather strip fitted.

I made a cock up when fitting the weather strip, by positioning the screw holes for the weather strip on the back of the box in line with the screws on the tray rail below. Looked great, except, I had already done the same for the lid rest, and now the new holes were overlapping the screws for the lid rest. I had to move the screws for the lid rest and fill the original holes, so that I could re-drill holes for the weather strip. Argh!

Thankfully, some good came of my mistake as Bob, one of the Instructors, showed me how to plug the holes effectively and efficiently with wooden pegs quickly fashioned with a sharp chisel. A trick that will no-doubt be useful in future – in fact I have already passed it on to one of the other students who did the same thing on one of his screw holes.

Time to fit the lock … and another own goal. With the lock fitted, the lid now sat slightly askew. The link plate in the lid was 1mm off to the left, forcing the lid to the right when closed.

I had marked it correctly, but not believed the markings, so had cut just off the line. I cursed my distrust of my markings, and spent a goodly time getting it righted. Lesson learnt – I hope – as it will be even more important not to distrust my markings when I move onto spiling planks (marking out for planking a hull), where complex curves in there dimensions can become straightened when in two dimensions … challenges to come!

Now, the escutcheon. I took a piece of an African hardwood, Wenge, made a key hole and fashioned it into a diamond shape. Having marked its position, I cut out a rebate for the escutcheon and fitted it in. Rather than chamfer it and leave it proud, I decided to flush it with the surface of the box, and am very pleased with the result.

The wooden handle blocks were next, and my tool chest just needs some tool trays. These trays and a smaller sliding lid box were made from a soft wood. Cutting the dovetails is in some ways more difficult than in hard wood. Though it cuts easily, the wood crushes and marks very easily.

So, my Tool Chest is pretty much complete. I just need to give it another quick sanding, and then will apply a finish. Rather than varnish, I am going to use an oil and wax finish – Peacock Oil no less – made by Shane Skelton of Skelton saws. (https://www.skeltonsaws.co.uk/peacock-oil). Not sure how much I needed, I rang Skelton saws on Good Friday, planning to leave a message, but ended up speaking with Shane, interrupting his gardening. He very kindly gave me a quick tutorial over the phone, and said that one 250ml bottle will suffice. I hope so, at £24.00 a bottle! At least it’s cheaper than his saws.

This last week, Week 10, has been another short week due to 1st May Bank Holiday, but in these four days I have completed two other projects and will finish a third tomorrow. I have some photos to upload first, so will post again asap.

The 1st of April saw me complete my last practice dovetail joint. Time, at last, to be given a plank from the pile of Welsh Oak stacked up at the back of the joinery shop.

It is said that ‘wood is like life … it has knots in it.’ Certainly, there have been a few ‘knots’ in the last few years in the Practice … and my oak plank has more knots than most!

These woody knots have created some challenges – and not a few curses – with the grain of the wood changing direction all over the place. This makes planing and smoothing quite difficult at times. However, as in life, these knots build character, and I think that the overall result will be the better for them … I hope so.

Having sawn my plank into four lengths, for the two sides and ends, I set to ‘facing and edging’ one of the boards. This involves planing the surface flat, whilst also correcting the twist (using winding sticks); and then getting one of the edges straight and square to the face. It was hard work (hard on my right wrist, with tendonitis flaring again), and difficult … and it took the best part of three days. Thank goodness we only have to face and edge one of the four boards! Week 5 ended with one of the instructors machining my four boards to the required thickness and width.

Like the others, I clamped the finished boards to my bench, for fear of them moving and warping due to the change in thickness. It’s amazing how much, even seasoned wood, can move when a plank is reduced in length or thickness. The loss of the surrounding timber, with its own twists and stresses, releases the remaining wood to take its own direction. I am minded of the way that I feel a change in myself, released from the tensions and the constraints of full-time General Practice … free to move and change, and adapt to a new way of life.

Week 6 was spent making the dovetail joints and making a rebate for the lid to sit in. The knots in my wood create fault lines, which have resulted in about four splits in the boards as I fitted the joints. One split appeared just as I cut a set of dovetails in the board. This without any additional stresses put upon the wood – I hadn’t even tried to fit the joint together!

With the joints all cut and fitted, Bob Hope (one of the Instructors), and I forced the splits open and I pushed in glue, then clamped them overnight.

By the end of the week, the landmark position of glueing up the sides of my box was finally in sight. I worked quickly (unusually so!), to plane a rebate in the four sides of my box, ready to take the lid.

It was now 4.30 on Friday, almost packing up time, but I was desperate to get my box sides glued up. Bob Forsyth (another Instructor), and I set to work, both of us quickly brushing glue into the joints, as he told me how in the times before glue, varnish would be used to give these mechanical dovetail joints a little extra strength. So, week six concluded with my box sides all glued up – a real landmark in my tool chest’s progress.

Week 7 – difficult to believe it’s seven weeks since I started – has been spent fitting my lid to the slightly concave sides of the top of my box; fitting the base; planing off the ‘horns’ of my dovetail joints; and cleaning up the outside of the sides of my box – again, all the more difficult because of the multiple changes in direction of the grain. Then, the nail-biting cutting open the box to make a lid; and the tricky fitting of the lid to the base: finessing the varying grain once more.

Last Thursday was spent starting on the various rails to be fitted to the box but, with my wrist playing up badly again, I managed to get most of these machined after ‘facing and edging’ just two of the six. Finally, feeling cheated by this being a four day week, I started to fit the skirting board to my tool chest.

There’s a good few steps to go, but it’s real fun doing them. Progress seems to be quicker now.

Above all, I can see how much the knots add character to the final result … and to my sense of achievement thus far.

We have now completed the first four weeks of our 12 week joinery course. Time flies! More joints, of course, “moving on,” as our instructor is won’t to say.

Scarf joints are used when planking hulls, and for building keels and joining them to stem posts. After a lot of planing my stock to make it square and flat, I was developing tenosynovitis by the end of week three. Thankfully, Ibuleve gel was rapidly effective, and it has been OK since.

As we complete each joint, we take them to our Instructor, to get his advice, eager for his approval. “Try another set” means ‘That’s not good enough.’ “Time to move on … we’ve a lot to get through” means ‘It’ll just about do’; “Fine” seems to mean ‘That’s OK,’ perhaps even ‘That’s all right,’ and is a prized response. “Good” is the greatest accolade … only occasionally given.

Funny how we are so anxious to please, to be liked … for our work to be appreciated and approved by others. This ‘need’ is no-doubt found in other walks of life, but it is certainly a key aspect to our self esteem as physicians, and something I find that I miss now that I have stepped aside from mainstream General Practice. No wonder then, that I feel a drive to do well – and to be told that I am doing so.

Anyway, here are my four scarf joints .. in order of increasing complexity!

With our scarf joints completed, we were all on to the ‘dreaded’ Dovetail joints this week – on target apparently. All that’s needed is to saw the dovetails and the pins square and straight, and to get them to fit well … no gaps, but not too tight either. Accurate sawing is a skill that doesn’t come easily – not to me at least. So, it’s humbling – and not a little frustrating – to find that I am having to learn to use a saw accurately. I struggle to get the cut square on to the face of the wood, which makes it so much more difficult to get a good fit. At least I am improving with each attempt.

When each set is complete, the joint is cut off the boards, which are are passed to us to try again. By the third set of dovetails, I was hoping that they would go perfectly, and be the last. But alas no, more attempts were needed … six so far. I do hope this last one is OK. I have yet to get this joint passed, but I have decided to “move on” and have started on Mitred Dovetails.

Once we have mastered dovetail joints – Through Dovetails, Mitred Dovetails, and Hidden Dovetails – we start on our Tool Chest. It’s going to be a real test of our learning and skills, and will take a few weeks to complete … it will certainly test our ability to saw square and straight!

The MoD Police drug sniffer dogs have been in the Historic dockyard this month, and we have been warned that they will detect the smell of cannabis use the previous evening; and that there is a zero-tolerance policy on the base. My guilty conscience means that I have never tried ‘substances’ as they are euphemistically called by those in the know.

It has been another busy week: we completed the oilstone box, and are applying French polish (aka shellac), to give it a finish. A few coats more, and it will be looking really good, I hope.

While each coat dries, it’s straight on: to half lap and cover-lap joints, and to mortise and tenon joints.

I have used some of the techniques I have seen demonstrated by Paul Sellers on his excellent website and videos – worth a look if you are minded to try some woodworking with hand tools – but am also using the more straightforward techniques that we are supposed to follow. There are many ways to skin a cat and it’s worth trying a few out: not only to see what works best, but also to ensure I have tried – and learnt – different techniques.

Now we are on to a Joiner’s Rod: more of the above joints, but with the added challenge of accuracy of measurements to follow a diagrammatic plan. I am trying not to be too much of a perfectionist – our Instructor drops the odd hurry up comment: “There’s a lot to get through.” Indeed, we have yet to face the challenge of dovetail joints – which will then lead on to our tool chest.

Ironically, the students now doing the boat building say that after the three month joinery course with its strictly straight lines, there are no straight lines at all out on the boathouse shop floor … it’s all complex curves – “fair lines.”

We have had heavy rain and strong winds on and off for two weeks now, but I have managed to cycle in most days, and this week I have got to the gym (The Shed) on Monday, Wednesday and Friday, as agreed with my ex-Navy – “I don’t think I told you to do it that way” – PTI. Helps to work off the (once weekly) post college ‘drink at the pub:’ a ritual well worth keeping up!

Yesterday, we attended our great friends’ annual St Patrick’s Day party. Once again, I provided some percussion, of a sort, with the cajon and bodhran. We do a ‘set’ of about 8-9 songs, at the end of the evening – timing I am glad about, as I hope everyone has had sufficient to drink to not notice my shortcomings! It was a great craic, as the Irish say, but I am determined to do some more practicing for next year. But, then again, I said that last year.

For the last couple of years or so, I have felt a certain melancholy come Sunday evening as I face the Monday to come. Now, happily, I’m looking forward to tomorrow and a few more joints – wooden, of course.

Well, six new recruits have now completed the first of the 12 week IBTC joinery course. The picture below shows my bench and the view of HMS Warrior’s masts through the window.

The learning curve is steep, but it’s great to see progress after only five days. Although I have a long way to go, I already feel more confident using my Stanley Bailey No 4 bench plane: better control and, pleasingly, better results.

My arms and shoulders ache, and I have felt exhausted come the evening, but I’m having a great time: enjoying honing (excuse the pun) my sharpening techniques, and enjoying too the whisper-thin shavings and clean cuts produced when a plane blade or chisel edge is really sharp.

Being such a small group is doubly beneficial: we get as much support, advice and instruction as we could possibly want; and we have that small group cohesion I was so looking forward to, sharing our progress – the hiccups and the successes.

Facing and edging a piece of wood, using a marking gauge to plane to width and thickness – it’s all starting to make sense. And, at the end of the week, we have all made our own bench hook, wooden mallet .. and are starting on our (American walnut) oilstone box.

It’s not just the change from clinical medicine to hands-on woodworking. There’s clocking in at 9am, clocking out at 5pm; regular set tea and lunch breaks … and, best of all, concentrating on one job at a time. It’s early days, but I could get used to this!

Today saw the first day of this new chapter. Was I excited? Well, put it this way: last night I had had just about as much sleep as a young child on Christmas Eve.

Our good friend, Craig, had given me a lift – just as well, as I had about half a hundred weight of tools boxed up, lashed to my old sack barrow! The new recruits gathered at Victory Gate, Portsmouth Historic Dockyard, and were met and led through to Boathouse 4, home of IBTC Portsmouth.

After an induction meeting and tour, we entered our new home from home for the next 12 weeks – Joinery 1. Find a bench, stow our tools, and straight to “work:” squaring off a piece of wood, to make the sides all parallel and true. Somehow, I managed to make heavy work of this and reduced a piece of 5x5cm stock to almost half its size in my efforts to get it right. Thankfully, a break for a tutorial and practical session on sharpening tools, had me return with a sharpened plane blade and less urgency, so growth of the pile of shavings eased somewhat. Saw cuts and chiselling for lap joints followed, and the afternoon sped by, oh so quickly.

No need for extra layers of clothing today – the planing in particular was a great workout. Come five O’Clock we were heading out, and I was home just after six. What a great day, and a great start to this new chapter in my life … so looking forward to tomorrow!

On Saturday evening, we had a retirement party at The Bun Penny, our local pub. Forty odd guests – well, not all of them odd – joined us to celebrate my retirement. Family, friends, neighbours, and colleagues – both past and present.

David, our son-in-law, who is Head of Music at Bay House School & Six Form College had organised a band from his Sixth Form students, so we had live entertainment. They were brilliant!

I had prepared a speech, of course, and a toast, but the pièce de résistance was my rendition of “My Retirement Favourites Things,” which went better than I had any right to expect, after just a couple of run-throughs in the afternoon:

‘My Favourite Retirement Things’ sung to that tune from ‘The Sound of Music’

Rennies and nose drops and Sylvia’s knitting; Zimmers and handrails and new dental fittings;  Bundles of BMJs tied up in string;  These are a few of my favourite things.

Ibuleve, cataracts, hearing aids, glasses;  Polident, Fixodent, false teeth in glasses;  Pacemakers, rolators and garden swings; These are a few of my favourite things.

When my pipe leaks; When my bones creak; When I’m feeling sad; I simply remember my favourite things;  And then I don’t feel so bad.

Hot tea and crumpet, and corn pads for bunions; No spicy meals or cooking with onions;  Bathrobes and heating pads;   Hot meals they bring;  These are a few of my favourite things.

Back pains, confused brains and no fear of sinning;   Thin bones and fractures and hair that is thinning; More of the pleasures maturity brings -; When we remember our favourite things.

When the joints ache; When the hips break; When my eyes grow dim;   I simply remember the great life I’ve had:  And then I don’t feel… so bad.

And then … ANOTHER cake:

The most joyful thing was sharing food, wine, champagne, beer …; memories, and laughter. It was, altogether … brilliant. Truly, “…a night to remember.”

Yesterday was my last working day at the Practice I joined in November 1990. A few more tears were shed – one receptionist in particular cried all morning, only stopping briefly whenever I appeared!

I had a baby clinic scheduled, which are always a joy, and one patient I had fitted in, who needed seeing this week. Loose ends were duly tied up, and I dashed out at midday to visit an elderly lady that I had wanted to review, to make sure that she was all sorted out.

Returning, to the surgery, I had the briefest of glimpses of a familiar profile – one of our retired staff – before she ducked down to avoid being spotted by me. I parked up and walked back, then hugged and laughed with the three occupants of the car, who were rueing their failure to sneak in unnoticed!

A short while later, I was duly asked by one of the receptionists to come upstairs. Of course it was no surprise that there was a presentation to be made – I had been awake half the night, mentally rehearsing my speech (or the jokes at least). What did surprise me, was how packed our large conference room was, with doctors and staff from across the five sites, and still more retired staff than the three I had rumbled earlier.

Teresa, one of my Brune Practice Partners, gave a speech, which was both funny and most humbling in its praise, and I was able to deliver the reply without any emotional struggle. Indeed, it was just a happy occasion, with laughter and hugs and a few reminiscences … and promises to keep in touch.

And gifts? Well I have a flying lesson to book, and a caricature to hang up, a sailing boat cake that looks too good to eat, and a book on Haslar Hospital, where I worked for several years part time as a Hospital Practitioner in Dermatology.

I loaded the car, switched off my computer, said my goodbyes, and was about to leave when one of the nursing team asked me: “Are you still at work?” “Hardly,” I said, “why?” She explained that one of my patients was not well, and declining her offers of help. I had looked after him last year, and he had been most grateful for my help – we had connected somehow, and got on especially well. I wasn’t going to pass this on to the Duty doctor … he was my patient. I went back to my room, switched on my computer, brought up his details, and rang him, offering to see him. He declined, but we talked for a while, and a plan was made that we were both happy with. Continuity, family medicine, the doctor-patient relationship, teamwork and communication – traditional values that are so important to me – were all wrapped up in this simple episode of care. Nothing special, really – I’d like to think that any decent GP would do the same. As I wished him well, I felt that this was a good note on which to end my work here.

Casting Off

With a great deal of support from the Practice and my family, and countless good wishes from my patients, I have completed the six months I set myself when I returned to work in August.  My last working day is 31^stJanuary.  

As I look back over my 28 years as a Gosport GP, three themes emerge: that medicine is a fascinating and brilliant vocation; that having long term relationships with patients and families is the most joyous and satisfying part of General Practice; and that I have been very fortunate to work with colleagues who are committed to patient care, to each other, to the Practice, and to the wider community.

While off work last year, I concluded that the time had come for me to step aside from regular GP work, and to make a fresh start, doing something completely different.  So, in March, I start a one-year full-time boatbuilding and restoration course at the International Boatbuilding Training College (based in Portsmouth’s Historic Dockyard). For several years now, I have been dreaming of doing this course when I retire.  

Making the decision to retire a couple of years earlier than planned, has not been easy.  As I said in my July Newsletter, I still feel a strong loyalty to you, my patients, to the Practice, and to all those with whom I have enjoyed working.  However, I have come to recognise that it is time for me to leave The Willow Group, and to grasp this opportunity to do something I have long wanted to do.  A better work-life balance will allow me to enjoy more time with my family, who have come second to my work, too often and for too long.

I want to thank you, my patients: for placing your trust in me, and for your support, particularly in the more difficult recent years. Thank you especially, for all your kind messages of thanks and good wishes in the last year.  I have been deeply touched by them, and these last six months have been some of the most emotional in the Practice that I can remember.

I owe a huge debt of gratitude to my colleagues in the Practice, for all their generous and kind support and, indeed, to Southern Health NHS Foundation Trust, who stepped in and supported General Practice in Gosport when it was at risk of collapse.  The NHS, General Practice, and General Practice in Gosport in particular, is under huge pressure.  I am proud of the team that I work with – they are hugely committed to you and to each other.  I wish them every success as The Willow Group strives to maintain and further develop the services you receive.  

I am casting off now, to set a new course, but I do so with many fond and happy memories.  I wish you and your families well for the future.

Very best wishes,

Stuart Morgan

Dr SRE Morgan, GP, The Willow Group