Vulcan's Forge

The other day I had to visit Distington & dropped in to the forge of Vulcan The Smith on a matter that need not detain us here. To my surprise and delight I was offered a quick tour of the establishment by the man himself, so we set off at a fierce pace around the fitting shop and other highlights. The sheer profusion and variety of the work was staggering - a set of bright brass handrails were about to be fitted in St Giles' Cathedral; metal boxes were waiting for shipment to Liverpool; balustrades to Manchester; a huge steel parabola, extravagently curved over upon itself, was destined for 'Skateboard Heaven' in Cambridge (Herr Doktor Professor - prepare for an outbreak of 'massive air' among the young people). The whole place was deeply compelling - on the one hand because pieces like the cathedral handrail are being designed and made with a thousand years of use in mind, on the other because I'd really been nowhere like this since my mid-teens when I'd had a holiday job in the fitting shop of the now sadly extinguished Phoenix Foundry. The collision of a timescale rooted in eternity with memories of sights and sounds long-unexperienced but remembered across half a lifetime was jarring but reassuring, if only in the knowledge that perfectly contrived beauty will survive us.