Back at Evelyn’s shop, we spent more of our time talking about the open box I brought back than eating. In the end, talk was cheap, so we went to work with it.
“First, we put the box on the table so it’s at an easy height. Then, we pack our broom bristles in there.” We stuffed handfuls in vertically until the box was almost overcrowded. It became apparent very quickly that the bristles were way too long, too, but we kept going. Figuring out the ideal bristle length would come later as we progressed.
“The box will make it easier to tie them to the handle, but why didn’t you make it round, like a cask? That would have better.” Evelyn jammed in two last strands of bristle straw.
“I’ve got a plan. Now we need the stick, and your twine for tying it to the stick.”
She passed over the stick, but I had her keep the twine and sit back down in her chair. Once sitting, I pulled the box over and stick it between her feet so she could grip it in place. I worked the stick through the loose bristles to the top of the box.
“Okay, now wrap and tie the twine as usual. Good and tight. Really bend the bristles to the handle.”
She wrapped it a few times, then made to tie the knot.
“A few more wraps, and tighter,” I said.
She shrugged and wrapped it tighter, then tied the knot.
“Well, done. And a neat way to do it, that will make things easier for me. I think I prefer a cask, though.”
“We’re not done yet, I smiled. We’re going to sew the bristles into place, there, so they stay in this shape.”
“And who would want a broom in this shape?”
“Everyone. When we’re done, if you don’t like it, I’ll buy you a cask to use, instead, but I think you’re going to like it.”
“I’m not sure what land you come from, Shamus, where they make such strange brooms. Very well; you did buy me a good lunch, after all.”