Paul Sellers

I ask the question and then ask, 'Could you?' I believe that most people could and can if they were to want to and then train for it like I did, have and continue to maintain my body and mind every day for eight hours of my full-time woodworking. Some say I am privileged. I am, but not by accident. This wasn't happenstance, it was a calculated, you see. I didn't want conveyor belt, consumerist production. It was my utter and absolute intention, and I spent a day on it. I'm not 'lucky', as some might say, neither do I indulged myself like an amateur, but I do what I do from my intentional amateur status. Always have and always will. Anyway, no matter, I enjoyed the minutiae of even the most undemanding elements, and when it was done, I told myself it was good.

It's the crispness of a joint should and a tight-fitting joint I always strive for. No creeping up on it as some dumb advocates say you should. These come straight off the gent's saw because I keep my saws pristinely sharp all the time. I disallow dull tools. They can never give me the precision good joinery relies on. In sharpening any saw, it should never take more than half a file stroke length of filing per gullet. No more, ever.

That's how it is with amateurship, you see, there is nothing you need to prove if you are truly an amateur. The love of it is enough. You volunteer into it altruistically and though reward of satisfaction becomes a payment, you didn't do it for even that because you didn't even need pay nor did you do what you did to that end. You just went out there, on your own (on your tod), picked up a tool from a clustered group of favoured hand tools and made a wastepaper bin from some cherry and some quarter inch plywood and magic begins to happen by such things, just like that.

The cherry wood came from kept scraps. Offcuts. I often keep them for a few weeks, and some are kept for longer because the grain seemed worth the waiting. All you see here came from hand saws and planes, basic chisels, a plough plane and not too much more. In other words, it's all hand tool work. I have to say that because at a glimpse people might think it's all machining. I don't even own one machine that could do any of this.

I know that they don't understand not using the machines, but to be honest, nothing I could have done by machine would have given a better result in quicker time or easier fashion. And, hey, this is just the practise run...the prototype. The wood and plywood were nothing more than short offcuts of scraps I was about to give away to my friends who come twice a week for a bagful of firewood for the stove on their narrow boat on the Thames, a quarter of a mile away from where I'm working.

Two tricks in this one. The sacrificial spruce backer on the outcut stops the cherry for splitting and breaking at that critical corner. There is no question of it. It would. Because the wastepaper bin is tapered, I used taper pieces either side to compensate for the discrepancy so i could hold it in the vise. The masking tape holds them in place while I secure things in the vise.

My shoulders to small tenons are all perfectly cut to dead-on angles using only an ultra-sharp knife, a small but significant vintage Starrett 6" combination square (all of my hand tools have qualified to become vintage now), a vintage sliding bevel that's served me for over sixty years, but it's another sixty years older than that and then too a fine-toothed dovetail saw which I only allow myself to sharpen and have done so on this particular gent's saw along with my other half a dozen saws throughout six decades thus far. Imagine this though, it takes me four minutes to do that, and the same for setting the teeth. In no more than eight minutes, I am back in the saddle and on with the task. It seems I need to do it about every two months per saw, or so. I like too that I don't need a £250 fancy saw with Bubunga handles to achieve first class work. Nothing prissy, exclusive or snobby about ordinary joinery with my own choice of working man's working hand tools here. Facts are facts, I've been selling off anything fancy of late. The tools I don't use just clutter the place and distract my thinking and my work. Usually, that means they were too big, too heavy, too oversized, too clunky.

I sharpen the majority of my saws for a rip cut pattern because 90% of sawing in my work is rip cutting. Think tenon cheeks and dovetails. But finer-toothed saws with a ripcut pattern will crosscut just fine too.

Not much to it, saw sharpening, for me, not these days, nor was it ever. I sharpened my first saw with George looking over my shoulder (laughing) when I was 15 years old. Never was much to it, really, so I am not much given to it when you think about it. I just find my shop stool, the one I made a long time ago now, with my hand tools, the one with the scalloped seat, sit myself down, position my saw at the bench, my body to the work, my hands to the tool and start filing away the slightest dullness. Remember this if you remember nothing else. I learned it with my first saw sharpening over sixty years ago; light cannot shine of a sharp edge. When you are sharpening anything, you are simply filing or abrading off the light that reflects dullness.

It cuts on the push stroke. I will never use a pull stroke saw because 98% of them are throwaway saws that cannot be sharpened and that is as intentional as the safety razor for shaving was back in the late 1800s. The idea Gillette had wasn't to make shaving safer, it was to get you coming back for a packet of five razor blades. Once you lost the skill of sharpening a cut-throat razor, it was too late for change.

Before I know it I'm using the saw and I have the finite crispness that cuts the pristine shoulders and cheeks to perfect levels of sharpness. I move with the action of a locomotive using the locomotive linkage between hand, wrist, elbow and shoulder. My brain and body link and synchronise to perfection, and the saw glides through the cherry effortlessly. What am I feeling in my now living confidence? Well, for decades now, I am not thinking, 'I hope I can get those right.' I'm living the confidence and security of knowing it will be perfect every single time.

Shavings tell a story like words on a page and translate selflessly into all languages no matter what.

I feel the smoothness of the finished cut that leaves no need for chiselling to trim and fit and look good. I've lived a long time now through changed times. Sixty years ago, I knew many men who did such things and got paid less than a £1,000 a year working 45 hours a week to feed and clothe a family of four to six people. My family was eight people. Good old mum and dad; an amazing provision through a team-pair who never knew a day without working and raised me the same way and never knowing a single day without work. I doubt that I know a single so-called carpenter who can or has ever sharpened a saw in their lifetime any more. Funny thing is, though, I have taught and trained many an amateur to do that and know amateurs who do do it with confidence and without hesitation. Doesn't that seem odd to anyone else?

One of my tenon saws. It's a fourteen inch R Groves that hasn't been made for a hundred years now. It was used for the bulk of a hundred years to get that much patina just from a man's sweat-equity. Now, it's aged, like a good wine, to perfection. I still use it every day. The plate is an inch narrower than when it was made. Imagine that.

And here's another funny thing too. I now know more amateur woodworkers who use handsaws and planes, sharp chisels and such than I do so-called professional carpenters and yet, many professional carpenters speak disparagingly of amateur woodworkers. I watched this trend happen, worked with men who were proud to offer their chisels to a belt sander to get a sudden fix to their over-dulled chisels and planes and thought that they had the smarts. Somewhere in the mid-nineties, these men started losing something and within five years they just thought that they knew more and were smarter than the retiring makers when they had lost everything but didn't even know it or recognise it. Along comes the amateur, takes himself off into his shed, her basement, the garage, pulls out their few hand tools and makes a Windsor chair from some riven oak, or a spokeshave they needed to fashion it with.

I plane 98% of my work level, square and smooth with just two very common bench planes. Stanley #4 and #5. I have never had any need for longer planes, and certainly have no need for heavyweight models that are really a waste of muscle power unless you are in resistance training. My everyday eight-hour days at the bench are enough of a workout for this man.

So I spent a good day making a wastepaper bin in my self-proclaimed claiming back of my amateur status, and now shamed by anyone using the term carpenter to describe me. Fact is, I no longer stand for it. It's too loose and meaningless a term and means less than it should. Woodworking is not standing roof trusses and hanging prehung doors in a framed wall or atop it and air-nailing them in place. That's carpentry. When someone, anyone says, "This is Paul. He's a carpenter." I say, "No, I'm not, I'm a woodworker or a furniture maker or joiner or whatever suits me in the minute."

If you don't own a plough plane, you can run a tenon saw along two gauge lines and chisel out the waste in between. I have done this many a time. It's all too easy for the rich of us to assume everyone always has access to power equipment or even just a plough plane if they 'just work hard'.

I have worn the same shirts and jeans in of plain denim, Wrangler jeans bought in the USA and Superdry short-sleeved shirts and not one of them has the white smudges of caulking that seem to be the qualifying badge of merit construction workers wear today. I bought ten pairs of jeans and ten shirts that year. I found what I liked and decided I didn't need to change my work clothes for a different style every day. I'm relaxed without wearing a tie and suit to prissy up for work. Where oh where, and when did we make the distinction of going to work as a fashion model? I understand, wanted to look nice for a celebration. I went to my neighbours' funeral last week. Brian passed away and he was such a nice person. I wore the suit I went to Buckingham Palace with to see the King of England last year. I enjoyed both events because they seemed to me at least to declare success. Brian was 91 and lived an exemplary life. My suit wasn't to strut out in in any way, it was to mark the day of celebration with respect.

I'm less in my comfort zone in a suit and tie but no matter of concern. It's nice now and then, but can't imagine doing this just to got to work.

My wastepaper bin design is complete. It was an idea, really. A mere thought the day before, and then I made it so simply with my usual combination of hand tools; an ordinary cluster if you like. Imagine this, though, I used the all-powerful power tool woodworking of complete human effort without any electricity inserting itself between me and my tasks and nothing I did would have come any the faster or more efficiently using any kind of machine. I needed no protective equipment; no dust extraction and protective headgear. I breathe the same air as my team working alongside me and the music plays in the background, we are all free of dust masks and breathing fresh, clean air, we need no eye protection, hearing protection, such like that, and we continue discussing anything we like as we are working alongside each other.

I use tools I made in the everyday of my woodworking. A mallet or a hand router plane, a round-both-ways plane and such. These are the special tools I rely on all the time now, but not just because I made them so much as I made them to suit me.

In the north-west of England, I might have said to my mates, "I'm dead chuffed with that!" My wastepaper bin is standing on my bench with the tools around it, a few shavings nestling above my and around and in my hand tools. This is a work of art. What I am looking at and living in is art in action. It's as pleasing to me today, aged 76 as it was back in 1963 when I first encountered shavings and sawdust from my tenon saw and bench plane.

The isolation of my early handwork prepared me for the hard slog going against the ever-advancing tide of machining wood that almost rendered craftwork dead. You might not know this fact as the reality of the day, but handwork in professional realms was actually gone and in amateur realms it was hanging on by a shaving. In magazines and colleges, the demise took a mere decade to disappear, but they kept a token nod to the past by offering a 5%. Today, that's no longer demise, but real future for the real woodworking we almost lost. My work reestablishing hand methods enabled me to meet the unknown need of future. We paved the way for others, and though it certainly wasn't without great cost in time, financial expense, and so on Other costs were incurred; I spent months travelling away even to other continents, leaving my home and family. Today, we have recharged the world of woodworking with hand methods that defy the world of plugged in only woodworking. Did you know that we own Unpluggedshop.com? Worth mentioning, I think. It's enabled hundreds of other bloggers to put their name out there.

Finding the right bench height for you had been lost to stupidity because so-called experts gave the wrong information to establish it. They said you needed to "bear down on the work from above and overhead" to get the plane to work. You didn't! I gave all the answers and tested my theories through 6,500 students in hands-on classes––my theory has now worked for hundreds of thousands of woodworkers to date.

I have to say something here, though. There is this strange belief in the saying that "you get what you pay for." and i question how many are just paying through the nose far too highly, hence my last blog post speaking about the Democratising Workbench Logic post. What we want and what we need are often two very different things. I want a workbench to work and to actually work well as soon as possible because I want to hold, support and work my wood solidly using hand tools and hand tool methods and not only as an assembly point for machined wood parts. If I don't have one, I just make one, and I go the most efficient route to making certain I can make and make quickly. A workbench with a good vise is both the third hand and the anchor to which my worklife is so far irrevocably hinged. My workbenches, I have made about fifty of them for students in my hands-on classes through the years, have stood firm in the face of fancy and overkill status pieces depicting something intended to be more symbolic or to give some kind of validation to the woodworker. I have used a couple of these fancier workbenches and have found them somewhat lacking because of their clunkiness. None of them were a match for my basic bench. Believe me, twenty studs gets you there and a couple of good days sweat-equity means you will be in a machine-free woodworking saddle.

This picture is dynamic i9n terms of the whole body being engaged with visible muscle and sinew synchronised in action that exposes the power of real and active woodworking. What's the difference between this and most woodworking pictures? It's not posed, whereas the other pictures will be halted and waited on by necessity.

Other things strike me as democratising too. My theory of working with ten hand tools and three woodworking joints to make almost anything from wood is a truism. In the last ten years, I have built well over a hundred full furniture pieces without machining beyond a bandsaw for resizing. My long-term plan is to never touch a power router again. It's foolish to call it a power tool anyway you look at it. 98% of users use it to mould their stock with classic moulds and rounded corners. The rest of their time is making jigs and more jigs. By using bench planes, I eliminate 85% of all sanding because to sand would be to sand rough and not sand smooth. That's a new way of looking at things, isn't it?

My benches do not have any holes in them and I do not use dogs. The bench stop, that's the metal rectangle in the bottom left of the picture, is one I installed and never used. In practical terms, the clamp in the vise deals with any and all securement if it does not work in the vise. Totally practical and efficient. Again, real woodworking by a woodworker constantly in the saddle.

Hard to imagine the flack I got stating that Aldi chisels back in 2010 were as good as it gets, but I did, and that's because I took the risk. Sixteen years on, I have yet to find and use a chisel that exceeded the quality of my then four-piece set. In fact, they were so good, I bought another set to resize for the in-between sizes I felt were missing like 3/16", 5/16" and 5/8". Of course, being at that time in the EU, the chisels were all metric so 6mm, 10mm, 12mm, 19mm and 25mm. Would I ever pay £100 for a single piece of any kind of chisel? Most likely not. A fancier and more expensive chisel will not make you anya better woodworker. Restoring or reshaping and reworking a chisel probably will, though. The self disci-line of doing such things is never a waste of your time, and you learn so much doing things like that. When I paid £10 for four chisels that I still use every day, I see no reason to spend over £400 for a set that does no more. And then there is this The chisels I bought from Aldi are made with highly substantive tangs that will never turn loose, bolsters that totally and firmly absorb and support every type of work, and they have indestructible hornbeam handles no other wood can beat. I cannot understand anyone using beech or ash, bubinga and so on.

It can be a difficult for any new woodworker reading material saying you need this or that chisel for this or that task. In my 61 years of woodworking, I have only ever relied on a basic bevel-edged chisel. Mortise chisels were made for deep mortises in the days when a man would stand at a bench and make mortises for doors all day long. Who does that any more? When you have half a dozen deep mortises to cut, a basic bevel edged chisel works just fine.

So why speak of what you can no longer buy? Well, they did stock them for several years. But I have also run MHG chisels that are made in Germany. These chisels have also proven to be excellent value for money and whereas they offer some of their chisels with hornbeam handles, they also offer more finely polished versions with ash handles. In my view, hornbeam beats ash hands down. Several years ago, I bought their six-piece chisel set because they had everything I wanted in a chisel. I have also used all of these in the everyday of my life and cannot fault them. What is great is that they also offer 2mm and 4mm sizes. These are lifetime chisels, they take a keen edge and hold their edges too. A boxed set of six pieces, sizes 6, 10, 12, 16, 20, and 26mm costs £99, and you can add in the 2mm and 4mm along with other sizes if you want to. These cost only £10 or so and are very hand chisels for several tasks.

I have been accumulating a variety of chisels throughout my lifetime of woodworking. Which of these do I use now. None of the ones pictured. I rely on a simple set of half a dozen bevel edged chisels. I can recommend MHG's set for their excellent quality, taking a keen edge and edge retention. I have tested them for ten years and they have never failed me. For around £100 you will get a good set (six in a box) of lifetime chisels with hornbeam handles.

Deep or shallow, hardwood or softwood, my chosen chisels have yet to fail me. My nudge back in the day meant Aldi sold out in every one of their stores here in the UK. Unfortunately, they had to stop stocking them. So why do I say what I say? Well, the sellers of hand tools go to much trouble reasoning out why you need a set of chisels for this kind of work and then another type for that. 98% of them you just do not need, no matter the work, the shape or the size of it. The men I worked under as a boy apprentice through to a journeyman, two different companies, seven years in all, had a half dozen bevel edged chisels on the benchtop, never pulled out a massive mortise chisel for the deeper pockets, never used square edged firmer or registered-pattern chisels, and they got along day in and day out throughout those years just fine no matter the task nor the wood. These men democratised in their day in the same way I do now. The cost of my working chisels over a hundred years come to 00.oo2083333333r of a penny or cent a day.

This is my democratised, nuts and bolts workbench that surpasses the expectation of any woodworker and furniture maker. You can see it being built in my back garden when I lived in the UK's North Wales. I add various components to customise it for functionality. But for £70 you can be working at it in just a few days, no more than three, I'd say

I started selling my excess of hand tools to put the now unused back in circulation. These were the ones I used in my hands-on classes, and then those you just can't pass up. I posted a very nice Stanley #4 1/2 on eBay for £25 and had no takers. I was surprised but hey ho. I did at one time go to the wider #4 1/2 and #5 1/2 planes. I realised that people were copying what I did, and that for 90% of those new to woodworking, these were too bulky and prohibitively heavy for them. Even before that, though, I found myself reaching for my #4 Stanley almost every time. That small width difference of a mere 5/16" makes a big difference in both weight and sharpening to a man working full-time and making 98% by hand only. I'm a machineless woodworker, aside from a single bandsaw. A #4 weighs in at 3.68 lbs pounds and a #4 1/2 at 4.8; that makes the latter about the same as a Lie Nielsen #4 BedRock, that's not so small an increase, and it would make a huge difference, and especially to those not used to upper-body work for long periods.

An MHG 1" chisel honed to perfection removes the arris as a leading edge for the tenon into the mortise hole. Keep it real, keep it simple and keep it low cost using a tool made for working people to get the action they truly need.

You do not need weight, but you do need sharp!

The Stanley #4 is a light in weight in some measure, but it's no lightweight in performance in any way. The fact is this: this plane, not the BedRock version but the Leonard Bailey common-or-garden one, is not just iconic but the most perfectly designed of all all-metal versions through the last century and a half bar none, and that's for a wide range of tasks. Beefier bulldogs might like to persuade you otherwise but that's the difference between riding an Arabian stallion where you can twist, turn and flip to task in a heartbeat as opposed to plodding along on a heavy draft like a Belgian draft or a Clydesdale. A kayak can flip, roll, twist, twitch and switch on a sixpence or a nickel, but an oil tanker might take a good half day or more to even stop, let alone turn end for end. So even within the same overall size, the copycat BedRockists of our new era, new generation bench planes made by plane makers now makes even a #4 size heavy-metal plane prohibitive and of little if any intrinsic value. So I weighed three modern-day versions made by so-called premium makers and compared them to my now 61-year-old Stanley, the current one I have been using every single day over my ten-hour day days, and the weight difference between an average of these and my basic, non-retrofitted #4 Stanley makes them quite, well, sluggish. You see, metal soles on wood do stick more than their wooden counterparts, enough to feel about ten times heavier. The heavyweights make that feel like twenty times heavier, I can tell you, and that is what makes them less versatile.

Currently, working my two planes side by side through the decades, and despite the fact that I don't grind the bevels using any grinding machine, two plane iron lasts me for about 6 years. Here I show the point at which you must abandon one.

Another issue that is never mentioned, so I will do it here because makers never do and owners don't even know it: The advantage makers and users extol is that you can adjust the mouth opening without removing the cutting iron assembly as they say you must do with a Bailey-pattern frog in the common Stanley's, but you actually don't. . .read my book Essential Woodworking Hand Tools. 1. You rarely if ever need to adjust the throat opening on a bench plane. I never alter this setting, and that's because with a sharp and well set plane you DO NOT NEED TO. 2. If you do that on a Bailey pattern, you do not alter the cutting depth. Now on a BedRock pattern plane, when you are advantaged by not having to remove the cutting iron assembly, you are then majorly disadvantaged because the depth of cut is changed, and you have no idea by how much. So, for around £20 you can buy a secondhand Stanley #4, spend an hour fettling it and bringing it out of hibernation because it went dull, and you have a lifetime plane. And think about this; if I have used my #4 every single day for 61 years, gone through six cutting irons yet I don't grind them of grinding wheels, how long would it last you using it for a couple of hours a week?

In functionality, there is no difference between the three heavier planes and there is no maker offers a new and innovative invention on any of them to improve innovatively. That says a lot and speaks very positively of Leonard Bailey, who developed the whole of the bench plane bodies for Stanley stable back in the late 1860s, doesn't it. In 150 years since Leonard Bailey had the concept, no one has changed a thing. Imagine!

The three heavyweight BedRock #4's averaged 4.7lbs, whereas the Stanley comes in at 3.6lbs. That's what I call refinement with the user in mind. Nothing prissy about a plane that works for a man like me for six decades of daily making with hand tools, I'd say. These makers could learn a thing or two about listening to their customers rather than telling them what they need. It mightn't seem much but believe me, those heavyweights would translate into many a dozen tons over a 61 year daily-use span of someone like me.

My initial concern is prohibition. As a new woodworker starting out would I want to spend £400 on one tool that only planes wood after I have learned to sharpen and set the tool up. For a new woodworker starting out, it is but a temporary benefit to buy a plane that might be ready to go out of the box. Within an hour, they must resharpen and set the tool, and therein lies the issue. Why not just put your boots on and get in the saddle straight off at one twentieth of the cost. A Stanley number 4 will cost no more than £20.

So there it is, my faithful friend. We shake hands with poise and class every day and all day whenever we meet and get to work. We work as a perfectly balanced team, you see. How clever is that! We've settled many a twisted stick stem and board together.

And then I see some of the dumb things elsewhere too. Imagine anyone, people woodworking, spending upwards of £150 for what is no more than what we once called a "toffee hammer", 4 ounces of metal that is. The supportive comments matched the weight of the hammers I looked at. My best shot is the pretension of it all. One author started out saying, "You really don't need one of these..." and the pretension all went downhill from there. I use a couple of cross-pein hammers in my day to day, A 12 ounce Warrington version by Stanley gets me there on all types of plane iron adjustment, including tightening wedges and shocking them loose in wooden or metal planes. My 12 ounce drives panel pins and metal parts. And then there is my 6 ounce "toffee hammer" made by Stanley here in Sheffield.

Wood on wood works remarkably well, and you would be stunned if someone gave a wooden plane, freshly sharpened, to true up even a wide board of oak, maple or walnut. It took Stanley Rule and Level 50 years to persuade the ancients to switch to metal-soled planes, and that wasn't because they refused progress, but because the metal planes stuck like glue to the wood by comparison with the wooden planes they were used.

These hammers are clearly winners for me. Nothing wrong with using a steel hammer to set your plane irons with or adjusting wooden plane iron depths on moulding planes either. The wide face of the hammer head has nothing prissy about it, and the cross pein fits in to the tight corners right where you need it. Oh, and did you know that the cross pein enables you to drive 1/2" pins between your forefinger and thumb no problem?

Here you have the reality of a tool in use. The cross pein is perfect for starting tiny pins between the thumb and forefinger and then seating it with the bell side.

The cross-pein Warrington in different sizes is available as a vintage version secondhand on eBay. This remarkable cast steel hammer is a lifetime tool, and I have three sizes that I have used throughout my daily work life.

My 6 ounce Warrington still drives pins but also helps to set and align plane irons in wood-bodied or cast metal planes. I perfect synchrony without any compromise. But then a heavier version does the same. I have three weights of Warrington hammers 6, 10 and 12 ounce.

For adjusting all of my planes, moulding planes, cast metal and wood versions and so on, I use this 6 ounce Stanley Warrington hammer. I bought this one new in 1965.

This is my basic made-in-the-garden English Joiner's Workbench. Made from very common construction grade softwood, but there is nothing soft about this workbench. Thirty-five years ago, some people kinda dissed the idea. "Not heavy enough.", "Wouldn't last.", "Will move all over the place under the forces of sawing and planing." Balderdash! They were simply looking for fault. I doubt that many put more duress on a workbench with hand tools than I do. It's a gutsy little bench and I refined it to be made by any Newby woodworking starting out in their back garden with only hand tools, That's who I am!

I made and started to use my plywood workbench in 2019. My first Paul Sellers workbench video came together in 2012 and went out in 2013. I think some people saw it as an interim workbench until they could attain the status symbol of something to match their as yet to be established skill levels. The reality became obvious: you cannot achieve any more or even as much as you can with any other workbench, and especially one without a quick release, Record-type vise like those that I use and advocate for. Nothing else comes close to the speed and the clamping power.

And then there are those who look for other problems. Birch plywood is not cheap, but it is good value for money. Someone commented on the prohibitive price of good plywood. Here's my response: £250 pounds for the two sheets of the top quality birch plywood it takes is not prohibitive if you amortise the cost of a bench that will last a hundred years of full-time use. Let me see, even if I just divide it by a hundred that’s £2.50 a year so 5 pence or so a week so let’s reduce the life span to 25% of my estimated 100 years (and it will likely last 300 in a dry and well-kept workshop), even so, we come out at 20 pence. Come on now. A single coffee now costs over £3 per day. Let’s put this in proper perspective here.

Thankfully, my articles have never been sensational, even though some things I have done have caused quite a sensation through the years. Imagine, my eleven-part series making a softwood workbench grossed 5M views to date. And get this, the reviews were so good that 98% found that the bench would do everything they ever wanted to do and stayed with that one alone. You see, my work is not about sensational woodworking, but the nuts and bolts of what it really takes to become a real woodworker. Cut out the quest for being validated by owning a machine shop with half a dozen machines, dust extraction equipment and the 'etc' of it, and suddenly, you start mastering the skills of real woodworking. No one really needs anything bigger than my five footer, and I have never used a tail vise in my life. "Don't know what you've missed, Paul" Well, I don't use any kinds of bench dogs or holdfasts either. My woodworking life as a maker of fine furniture and every kind of joinery has been highly successful without any of this stuff. You don't need it, either.

The Paul Sellers workbench is perfect for training anyone to start out woodworking with hand tools only. Use it as a personal training exercise where you can master your introductory skills in developing something you might just use for decades to come. . . Both the workbench and the tools.

The softwood bench has been great. I've actually used one for 61 years as the benches I worked on as an apprentice, the ones ten other makers worked from when I was an apprentice, were all made from what was then called Russian redwood. Redwood was also known as Scots pine (UK), Baltic redwood, Finnish redwood, Archangel redwood, Russian redwood, Polish redwood, red deal, yellow deal For the bench in my first videos filmed in the garden of my then North wales home, I used construction studs. I had just made ten benches to start my UK school with and made these from the same wood. This wood was basically spruce, not the kind of wood people looking for status make their workbenches from but a truly practical wood for any serious woodworker or a beginner too.

Lukas Brütsch made this workbench from my intsructions. He said, "I used "Fichten-Holz" (i guess in english its "spruce") for my workbench."

Whereas I have no need to prove my first UK versions of my unchanged workbenches, they are still going strong with not deterioration and for a bench costing less than £75 my divergence to plywood was an interesting experience. This bench has all of the essence of using say solid maple and then some. There is both a simplicity and solidity to this bench I have not experienced in other benches. It's the cross-ply striations that make the difference. No shrinkage or expansion anywhere, no flex nor movement between any components. The six years of use has surprised me because it still feels like a new workbench with little more than the usual staining benches and use will incur through normal, six-day-a-week daily use. It is weightier than my spruce versions, and it rests squat-tight where it sits. I'm not treating mine like some do theirs, as a piece of furniture, a chisel and saw slip happens, a drip of finish and stain from restoring a rust saw will tarnish the new look. That's not my world. A bench needs to be a workbench. Periodically, I take a card or a #78 cabinet scraper and skim off the lightest pass. That's always enough.

This version has been relegated to a friend's kitchen as a conversational decorative feature and it looks great there. I don't think it would work for me, but we have made progress with QR vises and some of the best now come from Asia.

I am an advocate for hand work in woodworking. When I tell you to go and buy a tablesaw and a power planer, you'll know PS has lost it. To make this workbench, unlike the all wood version, I used a bandsaw to rip all of my strips. Beyond that, I used handsaws of different types and then hand planes for the final surfacing. That means I (and most likely you) can make the whole workbench in a couple of days. Obviously, installing a vise can take a couple of hours, and you might want the apron drawer and other accessories to make the bench efficient. That's the fun part, though. I have customised my bench for efficiency. Oh, and if anyone tells you the apron drawer is inaccessible most of the time, just ignore them. 98% of the time you will find it the best tool in your workbench bar none. This single piece of kit stows every small tool you might otherwise never find a home for.

In March 2019, I wheeled out my softwood workbench to install the new and innovative birch plywood version for trialling. I have used it daily for six years now and customised it for convenience and economic working. It's staying!

So, my workbench? All of my advice on woodworking and working mainly in a machineless way has always been about dismantling industrial processes and establishing the real skills of real woodworking. This work started back in the late 1980s, when I held my very first class. When I saw the demise of skilled woodworking, I made a decision that woodworking with hand tools needed to be put to the forefront in a serious way. Colleges and educational institutions are compelled to produce workers for industry, and everywhere I have ever seen as a training institution caters to that end by training people to use machine only methods and give only a token nod to hand tools in a one or two day class using hand tools. The men teaching and training are almost always non-expert hand tool woodworkers. They may tell you differently. I can identify a dozen training centres close to home and abroad who don't have a clue. My task in this has always been to democratise woodworking through a strategy I have developed over three decades. The workbench is a democratised alternative that gives every ounce of support to any big and heavy behemoth you care to name. No hounds tooth dovetails here, not a one and installing the best vise in the world, a quick release 9" vise will support everything you care to want to hold. Imagine this. Sixty-one years in the saddle of daily furniture making and woodworking of every type and all from my basic workbench and a Record-type QR vise. Why fix what ain't broke!

And here is that first real video we did that plunged us into teaching online. When everyone back then that we were just a bit mad, we didn't know we couldn't do it so we went ahead and did it. And remember this in the mix of it all, we never took sponsorship or freebies and never allowed product placement hovering somewhere in the background to make money from. Why? We just wanted the freedom to be real and have no obligation other than to our audience.

I made and started to use my plywood workbench in 2019. My first Paul Sellers workbench video came together in 2012 and went out in 2013. I think some people saw it as an interim workbench until they could attain the status symbol of something to match their as yet to be established skill levels....

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But it could have been better. Information-postwar became more consumably low-grade but then again excessive too, to the degree that too much information took too much spend-time for people to pay enough attention to actually read it. Professor Henry Simmons, a specialist in information, said that it became an issue when there was too much information for individuals to process in the time that they had available. How much more so today. Especially as 98% of what's taking our time is of no worth at all. And that was back in 1965, btw. But things did become slack, as is the case in this leaflet. Of course, back then, the processing of hand outs like this were more time-consuming to produce than in our digital world today. How often do I hear, "Oh, I just use ChatGPT, it's amazing." . A new age of printouts was still yet to come. In our age of instant digital full-colour printouts, we can produce a leaflet at the drop of a hat and send it around the world in the same drop-of-a-hat split seconds, no problem. Enough said. This leaflet was given away free in the box with Record planes. I read it and thought it could have been much better.

Firstly, the Record Company of Sheffield, UK gives no acknowledgement to the designer of the plane and presents it as a Record Company plane design when they designed not one jot of the design in any way. The plane is a Leonard Bailey USA knock-off design of a hundred and fifty years ago. This Leonard Bailey design surpassed any and all British made versions in terms of longevity, adjustability, cost and so on. Though there have been more robust versions made (meaning heavy, clunky and too weighty for versatility in any field of use), I'm thinking mostly BedRock versions with minor but no better frog differences made by engineers using better tooling and tighter tolerances––but not one of them outperforms the Stanley originals in any way. So, the authors should have acknowledged that the Record plane was nothing to do with a Sheffield design, but should at the very least have acknowledged Leonard Bailey as the inventor and designer. In the same way, most if not all modern copyists of all Stanley versions never mention nor show any acknowledgement or respect for Leonard Bailey. A dozen copyists and more fail to respect what this designer gave to the woodworking world. For the main part Lie Nielsen, Quang Sheng, Juuma, Wood River, Clifton and many more, instead of hoping Leonard Bailey's name will be forgotten, should attribute the inventor by acknowledging clearly that they did nothing more than copy the whole of his original designs but with very minor tweaks.

What's Wrong Then?

The pamphlet states: "Record planes have many points of advantage to users." They don't offer anything beyond the Stanley invention of Leonard Bailey bench plane designs, so no such thing, and certainly no more than the common or garden Stanley.

"The parts for adjusting the cutting iron are accurately made to give very fine adjustment." Not really. There is as much slack in a Record plane take-up as there is in any Stanley. That said, slack is fine. The slacker, the better for me. A quick spin of a well-worn adjustment wheel and a floppy lateral adjustment lever works well by the flick of a thumb or forefinger. My fingers take up the slack in a heartbeat, and I'm set.

The article refers to the underside of the plane, the sole, only as the "base of the Body" and never identifies the plane sole as such anywhere. Now as far as anyone knows the underside of the plane has always been referred to as the plane sole.

"This Cutting iron is hardened and tempered under scientific control, which ensures accuracy and uniformity." Come on, I mean. I mean, what's scientific control but twaddle-speak anyway? I have never found any noticeable difference between Record and Stanley plane irons, either...to the point that I use them interchangeably.

More: "It is of the utmost importance that the correct grinding angle of 25º is maintained." That's never really been true. If you want a two-bevel method you can do that, but for three centuries before this time craftsmen responsible for some of the finest woodwork ever in history never ground their cutting irons to twin bevels nor a hollow grind as standard but rough ground and then whetted or honed, same thing, the whole bevel to a sort of, roughly, near to a quarter ellipse as show in the drawing. Having examined many a hundred plane irons that go back two centuries and more, every plane iron I ever saw was simply sharpened to a camber. It's just our generation that thinks we are better and more developed to come up with a complex composition of micro and macro this or that so that we can tell others you must do this and that.

I can tell by eye if or when I have allowed a bevel to get too 'thick' and I think I may have checked a bevel angle once or twice in the last three decades. That said, we do need a goal to shoot for, and why not somewhere between 20º and 35º? Why 20º? Well, not for plane irons, but yes, for paring chisels. These chisels are rarely if ever struck heavily, and neither are they levered with much either. They rely on hand and arm power to pare cut surface protrusions and such, so the bevel of resistance can be deemed less necessary. You are unlikely to get cutting-edge fracture with hand paring actions. But we do gently tap a paring chisel in necessary situations. I should also point out that on bevel-down planes the angle of the cutting iron bevel can be anywhere between two or three degrees less than the bed angle of the frog, so on Bailey-pattern planes that's around 44º so you can go as steep as 42º and it will cut fine. What am I saying? The bevel on bevel-down planes has no consequential effect on the cut because, well, it's tucked out of the way wholly behind the flat face and never touches the wood. Any wall of resistance on these cutting irons will be on the wide flat face, not the bevel. Duh!

But it could have been better. Information-postwar became more consumably low-grade but then again excessive too, to the degree that too much information took too much spend-time for people to pay enough attention to actually read it. Professor Henry Simmons, a specialist in information, said that it became an issue when there was too much...

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The shavings fell from every plane and the river of shavings kept building before my broom could get to them. "Get a move on, lad!" Merlin shouted across the bench as I swept the shavings as vigorously as a two-foot wide broom could go. You'd be surprised how much plane work resulting in shavings half a dozen men can produce in an hour of full-on planing. Pines of different kinds, oak, walnut, ash and beech. All of a different hue and scent. This becomes enrichment to a boy like me. That was then and this is now. I still have the same scents in my shop every day. Looking back on it now, I doubt that there are many out there who have ever seen what was a common sight back in the pre 1960s. Ten bin bags but hessian or burlap sacks went to burn in the boiler where I stoked waste wood to heat the workshop all day long. But I loved it. The banter back and forth, the way the men talked about their political beliefs, the arguing for one party or another and then those in the union condemning those who weren't. Then there was a certain kind of solitude in the working of the hand tools. Three men using handsaws, two with planes and another two with chisel chops coming from mortising an extra mortise. But then there was something else in these postwar heroes. They sang, they whistled, they hummed, and they sang songs they knew from their war years that lifted their spirits' in camaraderie. George was way too young for the war, but he too knew all the songs, and he'd sing along or whistle. I liked it best when they would spontaneously start ad hoc music with sticks and flexed saws; Keith pulled out his harmonica, he was good, and then the a cappella singing of men harmonising quite out of the blue had the distinct brilliance only spontaneity can bring; I have yet to hear anywhere ever again in such a real and vivid man's working environment. The masculinity of it was pervasive as if mixing with the scents of the wood, the accumulated aromatics unique to only truly vintage woodshop.

After sweeping, I would end up on the clamping machine that we used to clamp massive or small frames together, seating a dozen or so mortise and tenons in a frame all at the press of a single foot treadle before we drove the pins through the joints to hold them. Even then, there was a synchrony that somehow steadied the work from every man and boy. I learned the songs they sang. Vera Lynn's "We'll meet again..." but then they'd mingle in a classical opera piece or a more modern singer from the 50s. What is it that we lost from that era. Where do you ever hear men sing together at work? The work itself never stopped, except for an odd crooning moment where two or three of them sang Etta James' "Stormy Weather" in perfect pitch and harmony. The deep, 'do woos' background and such followed by lots of Nat King Cole "Unforgettable", "Rambling Rose."

Our singling lasted for 20 minutes. The work harmony melded with the camaraderie every other day. It was spirit lifting and we to a man took our part. Old Bill had just about lost the breath to sing, but his lips moved in unison with everyone elses. The prompts from the radio usually sparked one or another to start singing, but then too there was another aspect to the environment I saw from these men. An illness, a broken relationship, the loss of a newborn, a teen crisis by one prompted support from another. It was a whole support network never spoken or voiced into being, and yet two men, maybe three, huddled in a group to support some failure on the part of one family they might never have met. These few men impacted my life. It wasn't always good, but generally, they somehow softened under the weight of supporting one another. The war changed the working classes to empower them in ways we could never really anticipate. I wonder where we are today.

Anyway, just a few thoughts!

The shavings fell from every plane and the river kept building before my broom could get to them. “Get a move on, lad!” Merlin shouted across the bench as I swept the shavings as vigorously as a two-foot wide broom could go. You’d be surprised how much plane work resulting in shavings half a dozen...

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Well, I'll try to keep this shorter, this once. The next one I just finished is quite a long one.

It's a forever friends and friendly reminder thing, woodworking the way we do. It's a totally inclusive endeavour to include everyone but especially our children to come in the workshop during their formative years; otherwisemachining wood can make it 98% exclusive, and they just might never discover their true love of it because machining must, MUST, exclude them until they are almost always past it.

Mostly, what I have to say is a might different and difference stating. My worklife (one word) making every single day in wood using mainly hand tools, except for long deep rip cuts, has been a lived life of sixty-one years. That does not mean I didn't use machines in my businesses but depended on them quite mildly and minimally if compared to most woodworkers and then too machinist-only woodworkers. What I have done and do is use a machine for two or three minutes a day, maybe not at all, and the rest of my eight to ten hours of woodworking I do solely with a handful of hand tools. Try to imagine, roughly at least, 183,000 hours of continuous and seamless woodworking and most of those hours with hand tools. Who do you know that's done such a thing with such a living and provided for a good-sized family on a single income household? But anyway, that's not the point. I am really quite different than most, and therefore I offer a singularly different perspective.

Since this pic was taken in 2015 for my book, Essential Woodworking Hand Tools, eleven years ago, wow, I feel as healthy and as well as I did back then. I have no pain and my hands, arms and upper body, they all work just as well as when I was forty. Fact is, ten minutes before I wrote this I carried a seven-foot by three-foot-six-inch bookcase down the stairs, loaded it into the back of my vehicle and drove to the house to unload it on my own. This is not in any way a boast, but the simple reality of hand woodworking in high-demand realms at age 76 is a health maintenance regimen.

It's taken me three and more decades to finally graduate my art, which I feel more to be a composition of life through the living of it. As it is with all true craftwork, furniture making and living life is a refinement process. As a graduate, I'm not altogether sure that people I've met and meet anywhere, near get the difference between what I (and it's now more the 'we' of it) do with wood and what they, the other professionals, more generally do. And I am worried that my fighting for the cause of real woodworking might have caused more the lost-cause that might be increasing the more permanent state of affairs because those in professional realms deskilling the craft and art of work most likely will win long term and that's because of their belief system. In the eyes of some it has become 'their' competition and most likely I am sure to be seen as the loser even though I'm not. You see, I have achieved change. If I were indeed trying to convert the professionals, that would make a difference, but I'm not, and that means it doesn't matter because I'm not. But it is most often the professionals who claim me not to be, "living in the real world.", and that's because, though not to anywhere near the same level, I have lived to some degree in their world, but stopped to take myself off the conveyor belt decades ago. Also, it's because, as deskilled material handlers, they never crossed over and never made it in the skilled realms and emphatic refrain to experience the successes of successful hand tool methods––mainly, that is.

No, not turned, no gouges or turning tools. Took a lot longer, but I didn't need a lathe nor incur any of the mess. I didn't need a dust mask or eye and ear protection either. Nice to have that thoughtful connectivity to my wood and the tools. It took about half an hour to make, and I have been using it now for five years on my #4 Stanley. The wood is Yew, and it fits my hand perfectly. I could have turned it, of course I could, but I was 71 when I made it, and I was able to teach and tell thousands of other how to do without having to buy a space-hogging lathe and turning tools and teach them how to turn. Oh, a;lso, Yew is highly toxic from the tippy toe of its hairy roots, through the whole of its inner core and bark to and throughout every leaf and berry. But making it the way I did, I needed nothing more else. That's a total success story right there.

I am aware that this is something of a broad brush sweep here, so I will say that not all professionals are the same, but it is always professionals that try to counter what I say and advocate by comments they dip in with. Often they fail to see the negative impact machining wood has on them long term. Quite frankly, machining wood gets old fast and soon becomes, well, standing-around boring. You see, after 61 years of daily woodworking making some really lovely and inspiring pieces, I still can't wait to get to making more every day. It's also worth pointing out that what we have and own they never wanted and never owned. That being so, there is really no point trying to compare the apples with oranges in any way shape, colour or form. If you think that woodworking with machines for the bulk of your woodworking is the more progressive and efficient way, then you could be right. What the difference is is the how of what you actually achieve, and in this, you most likely will have indeed wholly missed the point. Recessing a hinge flap with a power router, the sledgehammer approach to cracking nuts, is something of a primitive task. The power you rely on is low demand woodworking, and me and my audience in general are looking for more in our woodworking than simply becoming a machinist. We like the "risk of work" in its entirety and want to choose whether we can interact differently. I am doing my very best to explain the essentially important difference between two extremely opposite ways of working wood, points of view and the methodology and doing it from the other side of the fence as a former professional maker and one who turned amateur to become a lifestyle chooser and maker––it's my 'professional point of view', you see!

We made a cello together by hand––him 16 and me 56, I think. It took three months of full eight-hour days to do, and he still owns and plays it now, 20 years on. These are remarkable things surrounding hand tools. Look at thios. Father and son working together to build a cello. We couldn't wait to get going every single day. He has the same skills, knowledge and ability that I have and then some. We still work alongside one another most days and what I did with him as a child growing into adulthood he has started with his own two children and I have been inputting too. We're working on the spruce top now. That back, maple, is waiting in the background now that its done.

So today, I pick up chisels and planes, handsaws I can sharpen with a file in a few minutes, no more than five, and a peace I get from the slowed version of woodworking I still love to do. I have found a few hundred thousand who feel the same way and want to understand why they feel the way they do, but can't always explain it to those who think machining wood is anything more than what it really is. It's no problem from to keep reminding my friends that they don't really need to explain their quiet and gentle ways of enjoying physical woodworking, the leverage of a chisel, the skewing of the plane, choosing one plane or saw over another, such like that. It's the technology that retained its core values in our lived life of woodworking, you see.

My classes started with this project back in the 1980s and 90s when I took the leap to start teaching one-on-one with children. I have made a thousand of these small boxes since, and taught 6,500 students in hands-on classes to master the art of hand-cutting their dovetails through this one project. Since then, we have taught over a million and possibly, probably, more than likely several millions of people how to successfully develop their dovetailing skills. Who'd have thought that was at all possible. They succeeded because they came to believe in themselves.

Well, I’ll try to keep this shorter, this once. The next one I just finished is quite a long one. Mostly, what I have to say is a might different and difference stating. My worklife (one word) making every single day in wood using mainly hand tools, except for long deep rip cuts, has been...

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