Your post made me think of a beautiful poem by Vita Sackville-West called 'Craftsmen'.
People with dementia can often gain pleasure and reassurance from contact with familiar objects from their lives. I've thought about retired tradesmen and how their old hand tools could evoke powerful memories as they touch and hold and smell these objects that they would have used every day of their working lives. My friend's dad still used the same hammer he had as an apprentice.
I can't find a copy of the poem online so here is a quote:
Tools have their own integrity;
The sneath of scythe curves rightly to the hand,
The hammer knows its balance, knife its edge.
All tools inevitably planned,
Stout friends with pledge
Of service; with their crotchets too
That masters understand,
And proper character, and separate heart,
But always to their chosen temper true.
She must have really understood how it feels to use the same hand tools and become really proficient at a hand craft.
Other than that I have written two poems. I'll try to email one over to you. And I am trying to follow the exercises in Josip Novakovich's book, Fiction Writer's Workshop. I'm writing about my home town, Leyland, at the moment.
Emily, the cover is stunning. I really can’t wait to read it, and to celebrate with you on the evening. Thank you for being an inspiration, I started my own substack, inspired by you. See you soon, friend.
Hi Emily
Your post made me think of a beautiful poem by Vita Sackville-West called 'Craftsmen'.
People with dementia can often gain pleasure and reassurance from contact with familiar objects from their lives. I've thought about retired tradesmen and how their old hand tools could evoke powerful memories as they touch and hold and smell these objects that they would have used every day of their working lives. My friend's dad still used the same hammer he had as an apprentice.
I can't find a copy of the poem online so here is a quote:
Tools have their own integrity;
The sneath of scythe curves rightly to the hand,
The hammer knows its balance, knife its edge.
All tools inevitably planned,
Stout friends with pledge
Of service; with their crotchets too
That masters understand,
And proper character, and separate heart,
But always to their chosen temper true.
She must have really understood how it feels to use the same hand tools and become really proficient at a hand craft.
Other than that I have written two poems. I'll try to email one over to you. And I am trying to follow the exercises in Josip Novakovich's book, Fiction Writer's Workshop. I'm writing about my home town, Leyland, at the moment.
Thanks for the blog, I always enjoy it.
Dave
Ooh thanks Dave, I haven't read any Vita Sackville-West poems before. Thanks so much for the quote and for emailing your lovely poem over.
Emily, the cover is stunning. I really can’t wait to read it, and to celebrate with you on the evening. Thank you for being an inspiration, I started my own substack, inspired by you. See you soon, friend.
Woohoo! Shall definitely sign up. Looking forward to Saturday x