This is what I have observed about enormous, heavy equipment: It never comes when you are ready for it. When the opportunity to buy this cast iron beast arrived, I committed to buying it without any idea of where it would go. So began two weeks of lying awake at night wondering how I could possibly afford to rent yet another garage. I didn’t know if it would break into easy pieces, if it would be too heavy to get into our flat, if storing it would eventually bankrupt me. But I knew that I’d wanted a board shear since 2005 and that I could have this one for £175. Oh, and that it was in Wales.
After two weeks of anxiety followed by the most beatiful drive in the universe and a night in Aberystwyth, we arrived. And guess what? That beauty broke into pieces like 19th century cast iron flatpack. All of my storage anxiety. . . *gone.*
And then, a miracle. As we were loading it into the van with the lovely guy who was selling it to me, he casually remarked that he was also looking to find a home for some type.
Sometimes you go to Wales for a board shear and you leave with a board shear and six cases of type. And not just any type, mind you. A complete set of roman and italic 14 point Ehrhardt and 12 on 14 Baskerville, including these impossible to find glyphs:
And that’s only the beginning. Another post to come on all of this type, but for now these cases are wrapped in plastic while I try to decimate a woodworm population. Current storage situation: Board shear in pieces in garage next to Ben’s 1966 Daimler and my Western/Vandercook 4c. Type: soon to be relocated to under bed. But someday all of these forces (with the possible exception of the Daimler) will unite and I will finally have a type shop, a studio, a bindery, all in one heavenly place. But where?
I leave on Tuesday for the USA for six weeks of teaching and wearing flip flops. America!