In the workshop, if we’ve all spent at least a little time there doing odd jobs, Daddy, Uncle Bruno and Emmanuel have been sweating it out for days on end, and the most tried and tested of its accessories is of course the workbench. This mass has become misshapen under the weight of blows, blades and bad weather, and has especially lost its lustre since it was voted the favourite larder of the big woodworms. Finally abandoned by all and destined for a tragic end, we decided to adopt it for one last mission, this time a decorative one, and when we turned it over we discovered that it was hanging on by a thread, a pulp of wood chewed by the beasts.
Like a stray dog under the shower before being fed, we scrape, strip and strip off its makeshift accessories before literally soaking it in fungicide. I’m still looking for a harmonious way to raise him up using steel crutches or probably four resin prostheses to give him a futuristic look. When the centuries meet.
