Readers of the Inside the Boleyn page (yeah hi Dad) will already know of last weeks events in the Boleyn.  I was nearly involved in a 'mercy dash'.  Haven't you always wanted to be involved in those?  I know I have.  It's the redtops fault with their enticing headlines the like of which I would love to use in my blog titles.  Mercy dash, love triangle (if only), sex chicken (?), woodturner ate my hamster etc.  But alas, thanks to the skills of my wifes bandaids, the mercy dash was cancelled.  There was also the prospect of getting to a hospital which still stitches people through ten miles of rush hour traffic and a three hour wait in a casualty department with no chance of a decent cup of tea.  The lack of proper tea clinched it for me really.  So what occurred.  I had won the contract from a junior member of the Boleyn Workshop to make a wooden model of Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament for a school project.  Big Ben was a doddle.  I slapped the timber on the Minor saw table and soon had it ripped down to shape, the mitre gauge taking the credit. The roof of the Houses of P required a different approach due to the angular shapes, think dinosaur jaw bone drawn by a six year old.  Time to fire up the Coronet Imp. I rolled it out in to the centre of the workshop, adjusted the guides, tensioned the blade and pressed the start button. Nothing happened.  So I plugged it in.  At this point, it occurs to me now that it may have been a good idea to heed the advice written on all my packets of painkillers. "This medication may make you feel drowsy, if affected do not use machinery."  Thing is, I've always been good at ignoring advice, kind of made a career out of it if I'm honest.  However, now the machine was plugged in I pressed the start button and this time it purred into life, yes you read it right, it purred. Things were going well and it was actually the last cut of the day when I forgot to stop at the pencil line and instead pushed two of my fingers on to the blade. For the purists among you it was a 1/4" 6tpi blade and it was the little piggy that had none and the little piggy that cried wee wee wee all the way home.  A bit like me actually.  Once I had been bandaged there was the sanding down to be done and then the detailing of the clockface which was confidently carried out by my junior member.  Might put a pic up if it comes home from school.  But back to the incident with the blade.  It's finding a balance between self preservation and the boredom of inactivity.  There are risks involved with using all kinds of machinery, it would be daft to pretend that there aren't. I was in rehab with someone missing the tips of six fingers from two incidents involving contact with a moving bandsaw blade.  But we must make our own decisions as to whether we are clear in the head enough or not to use it, as and when we must and not be frightened into doing nothing by fear of what may or may not happen.  Perhaps I should not have been using a bandsaw on that day in question but equally I did not want to let someone down.  And there is one advantage to having the two smaller fingers on one hand strapped together.  If I were to go to a Star Trek convention (shudder)  I would find it a lot easier to make the Vulcan greeting of 'Live long and Prosper', so it's not all bad really.  I would not stand accused of being rude to Vulcans.