I take my irons out.
Move them to my hermetically sealed sharpening chamber and by the way I only do this on a Wednesday between 20:38 and 22:07.
Lock myself in. Turn off all but one of the chambers lights.
I recite the Lords Prayer 3 times, and once whilst I'm stood on my head in the east corner facing the wall.
I open the Jack and Jill book "A day at the farm" to page 7, Jack meets a cow. Then and only then can the sharpening ritual start.
To remove the biggest knicks I have a piece of Pennant Blue stone, one owned by Lloyd George ( by the way he knew my father )
As many strokes as it takes until the knick is gone are carried out.
Next I bring to my table the Harland an Wolff 19th cut ( this is obviously 17 cuts above a 2nd cut ) keel makers file. You would not believe how smooth the cut of this file is. I ran it over the bare backside of my infant granddaughter and she only required a 4 hour skin graft operation, fine and smooth are not the words to describe this file.
I set to work with the file, again taking as long as it takes to get the edge I require.
Once this stage has been completed it is now time for the most controversial part of my regime.
If you are easily offended or work for the RSPCA or other animal charities please look away now.
I keep Brown Swiss cattle, a bit of a side line but hey ho a guy's got to eat. Right??
I take a calf, the younger the better, and peel back the hide on its left rear quarter. I add, the calf is alive.
I strop my blade against the inside of the hide, the fat and blood mix makes a fantastic compound. I clean and repeat and then clean and repeat once more.
I patch up the calf with duct tape and a mixture of flour, salt and water putty. I've found the resale value of the calf is often affected if I don't make good the hide. You should see the ones I've had to use several times, not pretty, really not pretty.
Once this has been done I now call my blade/iron sharp. Actually I do, I say "hey sharp how you doing?". They never answer.
Note to self,,, try same greeting in Mandarin.
I wait until 22:07, usually passing the time by inventing new names for girls alphabetically. I'm at K, if anyone was interested.
The time lock releases the door and I enter the world once again. Armed with a sharp iron.
The test. No paper, no hairs on the back of my hand, no forearm hair, no finger or thumb nail test, no need for an electron microscope. At the bottom of the garden I have a 1956 Wolseley 4/44. On the drivers door 3 inches south of the door release lever I test the sharpness of my blades. If I can leave a horizontal 1/8" slice in the vinyl, following a 6.36 metre run up whilst wearing bedroom slippers, I consider my iron sharp.
There's no need of the fancy wet stones, diamond plates, jigs and fixtures. Follow my lead and embrace my method, I'm more than willing to take you through the finer points, and start enjoying sharp tools.
