The air in the shed tonight is thick with smell of hot beeswax, sweet with honey combined with notes of pine resin and the pervasive pong of cheap paraffin hissing noisily in the tilley lamp. After much faffing with string, fingertips sore from prodding hot resin and fighting a constant urge to just cheat and use the tube of epoxy in the bottom of the toolbox the magic happens and another bark tankard is done.


