Powerless

Sara Maitland's column in this week's Tablet is headed, "Electricity is a pivotal example of and a rich metaphor for the Holy Spirit." Sara is always worth reading, based as she is in a remote corner of Scotland, and often reflecting upon the elements, in this instance causing power cuts. Both electricity and the Holy Spirit, she reflects, bring us light, warmth, joy and love.

Edmund (who lives in a world of computers) was for once powerless too this weekend: leaving his telephone (unintentionally) in the train, he went on a green woodwork course in the woods at Prinknash. No power tools, just a foot-operated lathe; but by the end of two days he'd made two beautiful stools, one for each of the boys. Excellent!

Chipping in

When we arrived here at our "new" home in July 1995, it didn't take long for the first hidden defect to reveal itself. As I lifted one of the sash windows in the dining-room, the bottom bar gave way and a large sheet of plate glass crashed downwards: had my head been a few inches further forward, I would have known what it felt like to be guillotined. We turned for help to our neighbour across the road, Tom Holding, having heard that he ran a building firm, and the next day the diminutive Barry arrived carrying a bag of tools. This charming Irishman fixed up a new sash bar (and glass pane) in what seemed like next to no time.

We now hope we are on the way out of this house, but the other day nearly the same thing happened as I was opening the bathroom sash window. Help! I cried to Tom. I'll send someone, he replied; and lo and behold, early yesterday morning, along came Barry with his bag of tools. Now 73, he still does his most skilful stuff, lamenting how much the present generation of carpenters depends on expensive power tools which take 45 minutes to unload from the van in the morning.