Lock, stock and barrel

The door to the Harry Potter suite is officially ready to install.  I’ve cut it to size, installed the lock, added the hinges and attached an old safe manufacturer’s brass plate (as you do).  

Fortunately I had a bit of a brain wave before I cut it to its final size (see the start of the journey here).   Over a cuppa it occurred to me, why not make the opening wider instead of the door narrower?  I checked it out and, sure enough, by changing the door frame I only needed to trim 25mm off the door’s width - sheer genius.  (Pretty darn obvious really.) 

The rest of the weekend was spent putting together a kids’ talk for church about wisdom - kind of ironic really.

New wine, old skin

The battered old door I’m resurrecting for the Harry Potter suite has a few issues, not the least being severe damage from being kicked in and some large gaps between stiles and rails where the antique cedar timber has shrunk. 

As I mentioned earlier, I needed to shorten the door by some 8 inches in order for it to fit the opening - so the question arises, what standard of fit am I aiming for when I rejoin the shortened style to the rail?

My antique conservation teacher, Anselm Fraser, maintained that such work should be to the same quality as the rest of the piece.  He’s right, because a perfect join between a style and rail on a repaired corner will stand out like a sore thumb when the other joints have large gaps. 

Further, Anselm would argue against dismantling and rebuilding an entire piece just to improve some gaps.  He contended that overtly “improving” a piece often detracted from its aged look and, indeed, its value.  Of course, if the whole thing is falling apart then one has no option but to improve.

The Bible reminds us that we shouldn’t put new wine into old skins, otherwise the wine will burst the skins (Matt 9:14-17) ruining them.  The analogy works just as well with antique conservation, a brand new repair on an old cedar door will only ruin the original piece.

Harry Potter Suite

This weekend I've been working on a door for the sizeable space under the landing, aptly named the “Harry Potter Suite”.  I picked up a stripped cedar door a couple of years ago from Grenfell for $20.  According to the bloke I bought it off, it came from one of the early buildings in the Main St, which would potentially date it from the late 1800's.  It's had a hard life especially where the lock was fitted, with the timber split right through.   Perhaps the door had been kicked in at some stage, maybe during an armed robbery by some bushranger like Ben Hall (or maybe the owner just forgot their keys - equally plausible but not nearly as exciting).

I’ve reduced the height of the door by about 8 inches by removing the bottom rail (otherwise known as the horizontal bit) and taking 8 inches from the side and centre stiles (the bits that run from top to bottom).  I then reassembled the door and, to be honest, you wouldn’t know that it’s been cut and shut.

I also need to make the door narrower by about 4 inches.  Ordinarily, I would take a third off each of the three stiles to keep it symmetrical.  But given the damage around the lock I’ve decided to take 2 inches from the outside stiles and leave the central one as is.  I’ll add a couple of across grain keys on the inside of the door for strength.  This would have been a common repair method when the door was made.

One nice aspect of this job has been the opportunity to use a hand plane from my Grandfather Woolner’s toolbox.  It took a little time to sharpen and tune, but it’s great to use.

Upwardly mobile

At last it is possible to get to the upstairs' rooms without climbing a ladder. This is real progress.  Not that the stairs are finished, there are still handrails, panelling, a door to the Harry Potter suite, moulding, skirting boards and non-slip strips.  All of which will require a few more days' effort, but the lion's share is done and they work.

As with the other steps and winders I've rounded the front edge of each tread on the second flight using my trusty Stanley hand plane.  I really think hand planes have a lot to offer when it comes to small jobs, they are quick to set up, make no noise and create minimal dust.  Plus, from my perspective, they give the slightly imperfect, hand made finish that I like.

During coffee breaks I measured up for the kitchen bench.  The plan is to build the kitchen in Canberra using some of the second hand timber I've picked up over the last couple of years and move it down when completed.  I'll put the drawing up when it's done.

Second flight

Nette and I spent most of the weekend working on the second flight of stairs.  It was a pretty steep learning curve for us.  Up until now the stairs have been similar to pieces of furniture, which is in our comfort zone.  So much so that the bottom flight is actually a chest of drawers and the landing is a cupboard. 

But which ever way we looked at it, the second flight could only be described as one thing - stairs.   So we delved into the world of stringers (the outside beams that hold up the stairs) and brackets (the middle beam under the stairs).   The result…we’re well on the way to completing our first, fully fledged flight of stairs.  The stringers we made up from left over floor LVLs.  The bracket is MGP (machine graded pine) made along the lines of a “peter post” and inspired by the stair section in my 4 volume edition of  “The Australian Carpenter and Joiner”.

Bet you can't guess what the most useful tool was this weekend.