A few weekends ago I attended a 'making a leather bag' workshop and indeed, I made a leather bag. It was actually a remarkably nice bit of leather but we did not get much guidance on design and the result was pretty horrible, especially the handles. So I took it home, bought some equipment on eBay and altered the handles and now it's still pretty horrible but the handles are more functional.
As I've mentioned previously, Dad was a saddler and while on the course I suddenly thought that he would have been proud of me. Of course, I immediately realised my error - he wouldn't have been proud at all and he would have taken much pleasure in pointing out how bad a job I had done. Hopefully I haven't completely inherited the miserable bastard gene, but I am beginning to wonder if I've inherited the pleasure in making stuff for a living rather than doing proper work. Unfortunately I quite clearly haven't inherited any ability.