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As far back as I can remember, way back to my very earliest memories, I can recall my Father\u2019s workshop, housed as it was in a room in our house.\u00a0 Fixed to the bench, was his metalworking vise, and the sound of the ring of steel against steel as the handle dropped through its housing, is a sound that brings back memories to my being allowed into his inner sanctum, and to turning that handle as a boy aged four or five.<\/p>\n
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For the last three years, that same vise has sat unbolted on my own bench, bearing the marks of time with rust and splashes of paint, but with the same ring as the handle drops to its stop.\u00a0 As I start to gather tools for my future life and work, I felt a need to refurbish this old friend.\u00a0 So, I dismantled it, cleaned off the rogue paint, the dirt-ridden grease, and wire-brushed the rust.\u00a0 Then, I sprayed on coats of red primer and red paint to the non-moving surfaces.<\/p>\n
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It is a real heavyweight, weighing in at 63lbs, and with 6in jaws.\u00a0 On its side is the lettering DAWN and 6\u201dSP.\u00a0 Thanks to Google, I discover that this vise was manufactured in Melbourne, by DAWN Industrial Tools – just a few miles from where my Father lived.\u00a0 He had bought this vise in the 1950s, and brought it with him when he came to England in 1962 with his wife, who was carrying me.<\/p>\n
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Re-painted, re-greased, and\u00a0 reassembled, the vise is not as good as new, but it\u2019s as good as it should be for its sixty odd years. \u00a0\u00a0It is now ready to be bolted to my bench, and to be put to use once more.\u00a0 I like to think that Dad would be proud to see the value I place in it, and glad to see the use to which it will be put.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
As far back as I can remember, way back to my very earliest memories, I can recall my Father\u2019s workshop, housed as it was in a room in our house.\u00a0 Fixed to the bench, was his metalworking vise, and the sound of the ring of steel against steel as the handle dropped through its housing,…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.talesfromtheboatshed.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/65"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.talesfromtheboatshed.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.talesfromtheboatshed.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.talesfromtheboatshed.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.talesfromtheboatshed.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=65"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.talesfromtheboatshed.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/65\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.talesfromtheboatshed.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=65"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.talesfromtheboatshed.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=65"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.talesfromtheboatshed.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=65"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}