He left after eight years to drive lorries, before joining an old colleague who had set up on his own doing one-off commissions. It was proper blacksmithing at last.

The opportunity to be his own boss came in 1992 when he reopened an old forge in Burton, Somerset, which had been defunct for over quarter of a century. The smithy adjoins the house where he lives with his wife Hilary and son Oliver. He works almost entirely to commission, whether it is a poker for £25 or a weather vane for £150 upwards.

James says: 'Basically, I'll make anything in wrought iron or mild steel, as long as it's not a horseshoe. That's what a farrier does. I've never made a horseshoe in my life, and I never will. The bread-and-butter work is stuff like candlesticks and pokers and I do a few sculptural pieces for a gallery nearby.

I recently did a gate, 4ft wide and 7ft tall, to fit into a hole in the wall of the old village dog pound, and a film crew wanted six large iron corkscrews to anchor a hot-air balloon to the ground. Not knowing what the next commission will be is one of the best things about the job. The other is the smell of the forge. There's absolutely nothing in the world quite like the smell of flames and hot metal.'