In the not-too-distant past, my partner and I discussed taking on a dog as part of our family unit. This was a considered process, in which we imagined our potentially new shape of life, from as many unknown angles as possible. We explored a few routes that looked like adoption, rescue, puppies, older dogs, small dogs, big dogs, energetic dogs, sleepy dogs and of course the dogs we naturally gravitated to, based on our childhood memories. It was a minefield with unexpected barriers, but eventually, we made a decision, and a tri-coloured collie cross named Ernine found himself in our loving care. Our expectations were blown out of the water, and the pace changed.

Despite our considered process, we obviously overlooked a fair few angles. Since then I have had a few strong thoughts. Firstly, it's 400% harder than we imagined, and in 500 ways we overlooked it. Secondly, Ernie is cool, always happy to see us, he loves a cuddle and from the moment his brain gains consciousness in the morning - this dog needs a job! No job equals boredom, and since most dogs rarely find employment in society, it falls to us to create these.

We rescued Ernie. He came to us at the age of 4 months, and before his brief life with the rescue centre had been one of a great number of dogs retrieved from an undisclosed location in the UK. This backstory revealed some implications for him and his new human family. Ernie spent the first 4 months surrounded by other dogs with minimal human contact. He received no training when he would have been the most malleable. His parents and thus lineage were unknown, although we are sure that he is a dog.

Despite this, when we met this little pup, he was playful and appeared mainly unphased by us, or other dogs. Inanimate objects were another story. That was the beginning ‘thing’, and it's still here. Whilst walking, he would stop frequently, 20 - 30 metres ahead of a bin, waiting in a crouched position. Unmoveable. To encourage him onwards, we countered by orating words he will never understand in the way we do. On most occasions, he just looked and waited with his thoughts. We waited with him, slowing to his pace.

Four months on I look back at these initial behaviours, reflecting on how we managed them, how many more have come to pass, and how there will likely be many more. The bin is no longer just a repository for food, or even in the kitchen for that matter. Throughout this process, the family unit has strived to find a flow, some kind of rhythm within a rapidly changing landscape of behaviour. He is not the dog we imagined. Energy and time is the currency. The improvements are slow but sure, and the bond between us grows daily. He is not brand new. This is work and joy.

Reclaimed materials present a similar challenge to the maker. They are not pristine, packaged and delivered neatly to you. It takes time and energy to give a second life to a piece of timber. Remove any fixings, clean up the faces with a plane and accept and learn to love that dent created by a ten-year-old scuff with life. Or else, cut that part out, thereby reducing the volume of material that you have to work with, discarding the offending length. Learn to see the character rather than the defects.

Scour the beach for washed-up plastics. Sort the haul into categories of colour, material and size. Transport these to the processing shop, and remove any dirt that may contaminate the melting process. Once the material is reformed, observe the variance in thickness over the resulting sheet and adjust your process to best control this. Now you have useful material.

Why won’t this thing do what I want it to? Its behaviour is not what I would expect, or want. I need to adjust what I do in this process, or how I do it. If I want to use it, I must accept it for what it is.

Old CD collections, shiny and circular with a graphic and text, are collected by one person. Not for listening now, superseded by various online platforms allowing a person access to a constant stream of music. Endlessness precipitates redundancy. The pile is huge, and the thoughts are simple: How can I reuse these? How can we think differently about this material that we have in such quantity, and use it again? Give it a second chance in life and not abandon it. Let's work with stuff that’s not brand-spanking new.

At this stage of the reclaimed materials life cycle, terms like ‘click and collect’ are scarce. Convenience is not a factor or a unit of measurement. One must be inventive and approach their material with realistic expectations. One must start relationships with those close to the source of the material, communicate and collaborate. Time and energy. And when you get it right, find the rhythm that is required, and better understand how to work with and not against what one has chosen, a beautiful thing can happen. Time and energy.