There is always a particular feeling when finishing a set of handmade Western Electric horns in solid wood.

By the time they’re done, I’ve lived with that wood for quite a while. It starts as raw material and slowly, stubbornly, becomes something else—usually accompanied by a mix of small victories, questionable decisions, and the occasional “why did I think this was a good idea?” moment. Like any proper journey, there are highs, lows, and a fair amount of sanding dust.

Then comes the strange part: the day they leave the workshop.

After all that time together, they go from being part of daily life—half project, half obsession—to sitting quietly in storage, waiting to be shipped off somewhere far more glamorous than my bench.

The journey itself is short in distance, but not in time.

I live and work in a small, historic village, the kind where nothing really goes unnoticed. Over time I’ve acquired a sort of unofficial title: “the speaker maker.” Not because there are many of us—just because there aren’t any others.

So when I load these enormous wooden horns onto my old trolley and set off, it becomes less of a delivery and more of a social event.

What should be a quick trip turns into a slow procession:

stop to explain (again) that no, they are not furniture stop to confirm (again) that yes, they do make sound stop to answer how big they are, how heavy they are, and whether I’m slightly mad

By the third stop, the horns have already been admired, questioned, and possibly judged.

And somehow, despite moving at walking speed, I arrive later than expected—every time.

Still, there’s something I like about that part. After all the solitary work, the quiet hours in the workshop, the project passes briefly through the life of the village before heading out into the world.

A small voyage, in a small place, for something built on a very long tradition.

And here’s a rare image: a 12A section, balanced (somewhat optimistically) on my old trolley, making its way to storage—pausing, of course, every few meters for discussion.