Parquet table

Problem.

What do you do when an old friend (I was the best man who wore a morning suit and flip-flops at her wedding forty-odd years ago) gives you a whole bunch of parquet flooring ?

The floor was from the office where she had worked and it had, er, sentimental attachments for her. When the building was demolished, all the mahogany floors went in the skip except fr the one in her office, which was salvaged. I wanted to say lovingly, but I think with a crowbar.

Well, I have had it stacked in my too-small shed for too long, and then idea suddenly popped into my head that it might make good table tops with a bit of tinkering.

The mahogany had been laid on pitch, so getting that off was a herculean labour. Plus the finished thing smelled alarmingly medicinal for a couple of weeks. It had the aroma of an imagined surgical theatre on board a Victorian naval vessel, but then my imagination was always a bit undisciplined.

Anyway, here is one finished table, which tries to carry the essence of floor in more than an aromatic way. And later today it will be in my friend's living room, reminding her of happy times. At the office ? What's that about ?

Much-loved iris

Original

Copy

On the left, a friend's much-loved piece of glass, made by her sister many years ago. Now, sadly, both glass and sister no longer with her. On the right, my copy of the piece, made from the photo after much consultation and careful dithering.

The copy is exactly the same size as the original, and I think my friend is pretty pleased with it. She chose the colours and textures with great care, though some of the original glass - the yellowy border, for instance - is no longer available.

A sharp eye will pick up some differences. The original had three mistakes, where the glass broke either on cutting or soldering. We spent ages chatting about whether to reproduce the mistakes, and decided against it. They can always be put in later if necessary. The iris seems improved by restoring the original design, rather than the original execution.

Sometimes glass is just glass, and sometimes it carries a freight you don't recognise, or don't even know about.

I think this piece will be as much loved in its second life as in its first.

Ariel Sharon: peace at last

It feels incongruous that reports say that Ariel Sharon died at peace. He would have hated that concept.

Peace and Ariel Sharon were strangers, and he lived an uncompromisingly unpeaceful life.

In death, as in life, he demonstrates the problem in the Middle East. For Israel, Sharon is a hero: dauntless, fearless, victorious, a great champion. To the rest of the world he is rather different: a ruthless and implacable warrior without humanity.

Jewish History and World History (capitals all round) diverge like this, with Israeli leaders keeping a firm eye on their place in the former however ugly their place in the latter.

Jewish History likes its heroes to be belligerent, pugnacious, bloody-minded as well as bloody-handed. The thunderous behaviour of biblical 'heroes' ensures that unstoppable militarism is still revered today.

It always seems to me that 'an eye for an eye', so far from being an imprimatur of illimitable vengeance, is instead a sort of statute of limitations, a curb on the extent to which revenge may be considered legitimate. There seems to be a suggestion that for an eye, no more than an eye may be sought. Ariel Sharon would not have agreed.

Forget emotional intelligence. Bring out the bombs.

No wonder that Israel seems unable to work and play well with others.