I have a plan. The day I win the lottery*, I am going to ring up Squires and say, “Send me one of everything in the catalogue.”.
My name is Phil and I am addicted to buying tools.
Oh yes, I love getting my hands on a new catalogue. Teh Interweb is all very well for ordering and shopping but there is nothing better than leisurely browsing through the densely packed, fully illustrated pages produced by one of our better equipment retailers.
Recently I picked up the book from Machine Mart. It's fat, full colour and printed on very thin paper. That just means more pages and more drooling for me. I find myself examining pictures of machines I 'll never hope to have a need for and reading the specifications. The chance of my workshop ever sporting a lathe, or me acquiring the skills to use one, are very slim and yet I find the section fascinating. Even more remote is my need for a motorised, tracked, wheelbarrow. Doesn't stop me looking at at the details and feeling just a hint of covertness.
Even the simple hand tool sections can turn me into a newbie model maker. The sort who thinks that if only I had one of those, I'd be able to do this stuff so much better (This is called “The search for the Guy Williams soldering iron” – after the legendary Pendon engine builder and the idea that if you have the same tools as him, all your work will be of the same quality regardless of your own skill level). Do I really need more varieties of clamp or will the ones I own already do the job as they have to date ? Well maybe, but perhaps just one of two more wouldn't be a bad idea...
Specialist catalogues are even worse. The Tiranti sculptors book has loads of things I've never seen before in it. My heart knows that there is no place in my life for a potters wheel or kiln and that the casting resins I use are already ideal for the job so if I bought a greater variety they would just sit on the shelf and go off. Doesn't stop the longing though.
Of course this is the point. I know that the descriptions are put together by modern day sirens luring the unsuspecting handyman onto the rocks of financial penury. We all know this and yet we still allow ourselves to be tempted.
There is a darker side to all this. I know of several people who have convinced themselves that they can't start model making until the “correct” toolkit has been acquired. They simply must have 5 varieties of solder before plugging in the soldering iron, and at least three of these too. All this is just an excuse to put off the dread moment when the aspiring model maker has to get his or her hands dirty. Until that point the dream is perfect, everything will go together beautifully. Each locomotive or boat or car assembled will be a museum quality masterpiece that others will gaze on in awe. Once you get started, reality will dawn and the bits won't fit, the joins will be hard to make neatly and square, dust will magically find its way into the paint finish and a hundred other problems will pop up like the creature in a “Whack a mole” game in an amusement arcade. Perhaps the kit can stay in the box for another day while the device that will make its construction that little bit easier is hunted down and added to the toolbox.
Never mind, it's a stage we all have to go through. As someone famous should have said, “Every model starts with a single cut.”
And the new Squires catalogue is out very soon. Something to look forward to.
*Note: I understand my chance of winning have been slightly reduced by not buying tickets on the grounds that my sister inherited any genes the family had for winning things. And if Mr Squires is reading this, don't get too excited. After any relevent lottery, win the first phone call will be to the RNLI to buy them a lifeboat. You get some of what's left.
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