The following day we rise early and it is bright, really fucking bright and freezing. We sit together contemplating the day ahead and I am brimming inside as I haven’t done any smithing since that terrible August, yes that one, don’t forget, never forget. We stroll down to the forge with the cold nipping at our ears and hands and Chris says “I’ll have to light the fire when we get down there” and sadly it doesn’t warm the workshop. If they were all up and running there would have been seven power hammers. There are five forges and as many anvils, vises, and a wide selection of hammers and tongs as well as numerous other hand tools. There is a box folder, a few guillotines both handheld and electric, saws and plenty of welders ranging from mig to tig and more experienced users than you can shake a stick at. All of the occupants know what they are doing, no room for error here, and that’s when it hits me, I actually know what I am doing and how to do it, and quite possibly better than some of the other people here.
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