Interview: David James Ramsay, silversmith apprentice

THE WORKSHOP above Hamilton and Inches, the jeweller in Edinburgh's George Street, is a magical place. There's a 'witch's hat' cone, used to shape silver into curves, a lump of pitch the size of a bloodhound's head slammed on to a bench and a knuckle of rouge used to dispense a final rosy gleam to the silver. Swan's down mop heads polish silver to a dazzle, and the very dust sparkles with so many tiny shards of silver and gold it's sent to doubloon merchants for r

Everything is made by hand using traditional techniques, with tools the majority of which have remained unchanged throughout the 140-year history of the luxury jeweller. It was this enchanted world into which 21-year-old David James Ramsay stumbled when he took a summer job cleaning trophies for the Royal Highland Show. With over 300 cups to shine, it was a massive undertaking and by the end of the summer he had been offered a job.

"It never crossed my mind to become a silversmith. It was purely by chance I became an apprentice. I was doing my Highers and my mum worked at Hamilton and Inches and got me a summer job. When I got into the workshops and saw the silversmiths I thought, 'I'd rather be doing what they're doing, making stuff'."

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Funded by the Incorporation of Goldsmiths of the City of Edinburgh, Ramsay has just finished the third year of a five-year apprenticeship that covers the basics of polishing, stone-setting and chasing (punching and hammering a 3D design). "My favourite part is the polishing, when what I've made is transformed into something shiny. At first I was scared because everything was so precious, but now I'm used to it. I've not broken anything, yet."

Unlike the hushed calm of the downstairs showroom, where the thickness of the carpets muffles the shock of the prices, upstairs is noisy and busy. Machines whir, torches blow, there's the occasional yelp when a file meets a finger. There's dust and dirt and tools litter workstations alongside a toaster and a packet of Crunchy Bran. Stashes of biscuits and cakes are a recurring theme, nestling next to a pile of newly minted charms.

This is where the alchemy happens, where everything from the tiniest of diamond earrings to the biggest candelabra is made and David learns to turn the dull plates of raw metal into things of beauty.

Part of his apprenticeship involves presenting a piece every year to the Incorporation and this year's offering of a coaster for wine bottles so impressed managing director Stephen Paterson that it is now sold in the showroom. With silver sides rising from an oak base, it is studded with three quartz stones as smoky as an Islay malt and holds its own among the Tiffany, Lalique and Patek Philippe designs.

"I just made one and they liked it so much I had to make more. I hope someone buys them, but if they sell too fast I'm going to be busy."

Alongside Ramsay in the warren of workshops above the shop are skilled craftsmen who take pride in passing on their skills. Panos the chaser recently spent 350 hours drawing flamingos on to a salver, while Ruaridh the engraver can turn his hand from the pomp of a royal coat of arms to lettering the legend "From Bunnykins to Stud Monkey" on the inside of a wedding band.

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On the workshop wall, next to the health and safety memos and staff nights out snaps, are letters of thanks. One is from Buckingham Palace for the Queen Elizabeth II Cup, the Royal Calcutta Turf Cup, on which Ramsay worked. According to the letter, the cup has "passed the test upstairs".

"I was well pleased with that," says Ramsay. "The Queen appreciates what we do because she knows how it's made. She knows her stuff."

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Much as he enjoys the workshop, he is also lured by the treasures of the showroom. On his wrist is a silver elephant hair bangle by Zimbabwean sculptor Patrick Mavros, on his fingers silver rings he hammered himself, while he sports a very fancy Hamilton watch. "It was a spontaneous buy - well, they're really cool and they made the watch Elvis wore."

Which brings us to the only downside of the job. "Yeah, an apprentice's pay isn't that great," he says. "I don't know what I want to do when I finish. Will I be like the others and still here in 20 years' time? Only time will tell."

• This article was first published in the Scotland on Sunday on September 26, 2010