tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17636314746825499172024-03-13T15:57:07.600+00:00Fast as slurry off a grape, (But not on a Harley!) :o)Ramblings of a Deranged Old Greaser.
Mainly about Life, The Universe and The Meaning Of It All. Much also about his love of Mo'Sickles, Chicks, hobbies, interests and his bottomless and seething hatred of weenies, political correctness, bullshit, and just about everything in between. The gentle reader is warned that there may be a significant indulging in much Bugger-Shit-Damn, (and worse).Slurryoffagrapehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17616438111921039815noreply@blogger.comBlogger61125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1763631474682549917.post-75384671464280158262012-08-15T12:54:00.001+01:002016-10-31T22:14:18.039+00:00First love..... a red Fastback.<u><strong>The Red Fastback</strong></u><br />
<br />
<br />
Some women never leave you, and nor do some bikes. The memories that come flooding back when I look at a Norton Commando, are real powerful........ so much that they sometimes shock me.<br />
<br />
I saw a Red 750cc Norton Commando Fastback parked up the other day, and I was in a right old nostalgic state...... couldn't leave it, and kept walking back to it. A bright red Fastback .... she was one of my young life’s “Firsts”.<br />
<br />
I wanted to take it home sooooo much. Wanted to feel her under me again, wanted to touch her, feel her throbbing between my legs, like only a Norton Commando can. Wanted to run my hands over her polished alloy timing chest… trace the word ‘Norton’ so beautifully cast into the alloy, like I used to do when I was polishing my old Fastback.<br />
<br />
I wanted to get on her again, and feel that precious moment again, when I bought mine from Bridge Garage, in Exeter. It too was a red Fastback. A beautiful, gleaming red Fastback, and I fell for her the first time I saw her, crammed amongst all the other second-hand bikes in their showroom;… all looking like abandoned and forgotten souls wanting to be loved again. <br />
<br />
I bought her without a second thought.<br />
<br />
I was barely twenty, been riding like living was going out of fashion since sixteen, but was still pretty raw to ride a bike like her as she was the biggest, most powerful bike I’d ever ridden.<br />
<br />
I rode her away from Bridge Garage, up onto the busy flyover roundabout, stopped her and just sat there tight to the curb with the traffic going by. Her engine was patiently ticking over, heaving and shuddering on the rubber mountings in that lovely Commando "rubbery" way, and it was a moment I’ve never forgotten. She was quietly waiting for me to do what I wanted to her, anyhow, anywhere, any time, any place. Quietly twittering away in that uniquely way those Commandos did through her kicked-up twin peashooter silencers, and seeming to say;<br />
<br />
"I’m ready when you are, sonny boy, take your time". <br />
<br />
She was so latently mighty, so brutal, and I felt afraid of her but somehow not at the same time. I can remember saying to myself... "What have I bought? What have I done?"... I’d just exchanged a nearly new Bonnie, [650cc Triumph Bonneville], for her, but compared to the Bonnie this thing felt like I'd moved up into the Big Boys league ......... Like , REALLY moved in with them, and I wondered if I was up to it right that moment. I was a nutter and I was good, bloody good, but was I good enough for this? Sitting there on that flyover, I wasn't so sure.<br />
<br />
She felt like such a handful She was so tall, splayed my legs so wide, was heavy, solid and just exuded pure badness, the likes of which I'd never felt under me before. She made me want to scowl at the world. She was like the sort of girl you wouldn't want your dear old Mum to see you out with. She was going to do some real BAAAAD stuff with me. She knew it, and so did I. She also seemed to know it was my first time in the big league, and that I was sitting there, unsure of myself and not knowing quite what to do with her. I could sense that she just wanted me to let her clutch out again and ride her, and somehow I just knew she’d show me the way.<br />
<br />
I can remember how she felt as I thought to myself, “OK, no way to back out of this thing now,” and gingerly eased the clutch lever out. She just grunted as the revs dropped, I felt her trying to stall, but refusing to at the same time. I automatically gave her a touch more throttle and she grunted softly dug deep and unexpectedly lunged forward. I snatched the clutch in again and slipped it a bit longer the next time. <br />
<br />
I rode her through the heavy and slow Exeter traffic, and it was a very steep learning curve. Lots of lunging forward every time I let that clutch right in and a good bit untidy until I got the measure of her gearing. She was so high geared compared to the Bonnie, that you just had to slip the clutch all the time and daren't let your hand off it once it was really in. She would run away with you if you didn’t snatch that clutch in quickly enough when the traffic slowed. She'd run you into the back of the car in front, all too easily. As soon as the clutch bit, she just surged forward grumpily with hardly any revs on. She was saying "If you think THIS is trouble, wait until you really let me loose", just like the Bad Girl she was. I couldn’t wait to get out of town and get some room around us.<br />
<br />
Finally, we got out onto the lovely open roads, and in a few miles I was giving her all the beef she could feed on and trying for all I was worth not to wind up throwing her down the road. Sure, I was overcooking it all over the place and had some real near misses, but I just didn't care, in the way you don’t when you’re so young and invincible. I was laughing at her way of being so fast without trying at all.<br />
<br />
I remember that the most clearly of all; feeling so damn happy and laughing aloud so much as I rode her non-stop all that hot and glorious sunny afternoon.<br />
<br />
This was different from the Bonnie. That was fast for it's day, but this girl was REALLY fast, mean as hell and took no prisoners. This was what I'd always wanted for as long as I could remember. I'd always thought it would be somthing like this in all the hours I'd spent as a kid sitting on Dad's old 1952 BSA B31, wearing his leather flying helmet and goggles and dreaming of riding like a God. Now here I was, doing it for real on a top-end bike. She was a Superbike of her day, and I knew nothing was going to be the same again. One of those moments in life, and as sweet, timeless and memorable as making love to a girl for the first time; when everything changes, and an innocence is lost forever. <br />
<br />
It was such a perfect time, that first ride on her back and I think it was the first time I ever felt a bike really looking after me. No matter what I did wrong, she seemed to just show me how to get out of it. Like an experienced woman making love to a young boy, she gently showed me the way to please her, and the more I pleased her the better it got. She'd been around the block a few times, and there was a soft power in the way she handled under me. I loved her from those first few miles, and I never, ever, stopped loving her. She made me feel just so proud to be on her back and I rode her all the rest of that day and deep into the dusky moonlit darkness. I just couldn't stop. I laughed a lot that afternoon and I never felt prouder when I finally parked her up, so tired and so happy that I'd found something so very special.<br />
<br />
When I went to bed that night, everything felt like it had changed. I was different from who I was when I'd woken that morning. I was finally the Greaser I always wanted to be. Head to toe in creaking black leather, a white silk scarf made from genuine coffin liner and walking so tall. No one was going to mess with me now, I thought, and y'know, no one has ever since. <br />
<br />
Anytime I want to, I can conjure up that first hesitant moment when I had paused in wonder, sitting quietly on the flyover there on the cusp of something so new. Listening to her ticking over patiently, blipping the throttle and feeling the huge shudder under me from that lovely big-twin motor spinning itself up.<br />
<br />
Seeing that pretty Red Fastback the other day, took my breath away and threw the passing years aside. Like turning a corner, suddenly seeing a first love again and feeling the trembling, breathless surprise of her,.... and it being the first time you saw her all over again.<br />
<br />
© Kevin Udy 23/03/05<br />
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<br />Slurryoffagrapehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17616438111921039815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1763631474682549917.post-11801405273073504422012-04-15T13:12:00.013+01:002016-10-31T13:55:53.532+00:00On cat crapping.......... {:ofFucking next door neighbour's three-legged cat has just crapped on the grass. <br />
<br />
Smug little bastard.<br />
<br />
Wouldn't mind so much if he were to give me the time of day and be friendly in a purry-scratch-me-love-me way, but no; the bugger just runs off, .....no,.... hobbles off... if I as much as put in an appearance outside.<br />
<br />
Little shit was looking straight at me while he was doing it too. Well, it was less of a ‘look' as more of an unfocused, slightly boss-eyed, thousand-yard, Fuck-Me-I’ll-Never-Get-This-One-Out stare as he heaved and squeezed.<br />
<br />
He also had a silently panicked expression, like the countdown to launch had already started and missiles were heading his way any second. Y'know the expression….. The one with the whiskers well forward on Full Alert, fur slightly bristled and flanks heaving repeatedly from the effort.<br />
<br />
I think he did just the one.<br />
<br />
Seemed like a long one.....<br />
<br />
Might have been split in two for ease of delivery. Y'know, so he could take another breath. I couldn't tell from here.<br />
<br />
All I know is he had to stumble forward to lay it out, on account of it was that long. Kinda awkward move to make with just the one front leg. He must be developing a new technique, because usually he rotates and gradually elevates his ass to spiral it.... It's kinda mesmerising to watch in a way that takes some explaining. You gotta be there to see it really. <br />
<br />
I ought to charge admission.<br />
<br />
Put a placard up on the road.<br />
<br />
Serve bleddy tea and soddin' yeast buns........<br />
<br />
Anyway.... Finally, all finished and rising from The Assumed Position with a flank-quivering finale, as he clipped free the last squidgin that may have been dangling. Whiskers back into neutral position again and with eyes now fully functioning, he looked straight at me as if to say "Wot?".<br />
<br />
I’ll give you bleddy “Wot?”, you little sod. Just you stay there for a minute and let me find a bleddy rock.<br />
<br />
After the awkward moment had passed between us, he hopped off with his hoppy gait, adding insult to injury by glancing down during the turn and giving his efforts a lingering backward look, as if hoping the points awarded were going to be worth the strain to his precious pencil sharpener. <br />
<br />
I’ll give the little shit some points….. <br />
<br />
Better go out and scrape it up before I forget it's there and tread in it, .....like I usually do.<br />
<br />
Have to do that walking-on-heels- thing then, or the sides-of -shoe thing...... or on tiptoes, all depending on the Area of Spread, to a suitable spot to be able to go to Boots-Off Mode. Then make with a twig to dig it out from the tread, (WHY can you never find a nice strong twig when you bleddy want one?), and finish off with the old water and scrubbing brush routine.<br />
<br />
Cheers me up no end, it does. Oh joy, is me.<br />
<br />
Still, I guess it could be worse.<br />
<br />
Mustn’t grumble, eh? {:oI<br />
<br />
N.B.<br />
It could be a ‘she’ I guess, but I prefer to think of it as a 'he' since I'm pissed at it…… If it was all purry-scratch-me-love-me then it would be different.<br />
<br />
In that case, it would be better then, if 'he' was a ‘she’.......I could call it ‘darlin’ and stuff.<br />
<br />
Well, I would anyway, but, ....y'know,.... it gets kinda complicated..... affection between males and all that. It's different for we Boys.<br />
<br />
I just pretended with my buddy, Lomax, .....the little darlin'.<br />
<br />
I still wonder where he got to, y'know..... {:oi<br />
K. {:o)Slurryoffagrapehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17616438111921039815noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1763631474682549917.post-61690705750474928092012-01-10T20:02:00.005+00:002012-01-10T21:07:48.751+00:00Life changed...... in a heartbeat..........Well, it finally happened………..<br />
<br />
I've had a bleddy heart attack.<br />
<br />
Yup, happened at 01:00am in the morning on Wednesday 7th December just gone (2011). It was a bit unexpected, to say the least. I'd thought it was wind or indigestion (or something) and ended up ringing the out of hours doctor (I was buggered if I was going to dial 999), after writhing around in unbearable pain for nearly an hour waiting for Ibuprofen and Paracetamol I'd taken to fix it to get a grip..... which of course, it never did.<br />
<br />
Cut a long story short, she (the doc, bless her) insisted on calling out an ambulance .....once you mention 'chest pain', you kinda know you've pushed it over the edge. They ran some tests in the ambulance, and decided I needed taking in. I protested greatly, but I wound up being admitted to the Cardiac Care Unit when blood tests showed I’d had a heart attack, so I guess it was just as well.<br />
<br />
So much for being invincible. {:o(<br />
<br />
The pain had eased off a bit by the time I'd got to talk to her (the doc on the phone), and if it had eased off a bit earlier I most likely wouldn't have rung her at all. I told the cardiac consultant and he doubted I'd have been alive by the morning. Trouble is with living alone; had I arrested, it would've been 'Lights Out' and so I would have been unable to ring anyone. I guess I was lucky.<br />
<br />
I had an Angioplasty on Thursday, late morning. Naturally it went tit's up (Wouldn’t you just bleddy KNOW it???!!!) when the stents were being put in, as one was put in the wrong place. It meant three needed to be put into the coronary arteries instead of just the two. The Cardiac Consultant doing it got the ‘markers’ mixed up and put it in the wrong place. In case you don't know it, it's all done under a local anaesthetic via an artery in either the groin or the wrist. I had it done via the Radial artery in my wrist and was watching it on the screen he was using. It was bloody fascinating. I don’t hold it against him… he was doing his best, and believe me, it looked to be amazing he could do it at all. He was a nice guy.... just one of those things.<br />
<br />
No, I’m just pissed at my luck yet again, in the same way I am when I buy the only dodgy TV on the shelf…… only a bit worse I guess.<br />
<br />
Anyway, …… the dodgy stent is sticking out into the Aorta (artery) like a car sticking out of a junction, so the blood flow has to go through the mesh from the side instead of flowing through the unobstructed open tube if it was ‘in line’ with the blood flow. It means I'm now on 'platelet' medication (prevents the blood platelets from being as 'sticky') for the rest of my life instead of just a year. <br />
<br />
I ‘arrested’ on the table too and it took two defibrillating shocks to get my heart going again. It happens from time to time, so not that big a deal really and they kinda anticipate it happening. They have to cut all the heart’s blood supply off for a short while, and the heart stops, or ‘fibrillates’, sometimes as a result. He warned me that I would pass out for a while. My last words on this earth were very nearly ...'Oh, Ok' (Always thought it'd be 'FUUUUCK!'..... maybe it still will be... LOL) Had a nice burn to my chest…… you wouldn’t believe how sore a burnt nipple can be. Man, that is real serious voltage. I laughed to think that I've been saying for years .....<br />
<br />
<em><span style="color: blue;">'Baby, let me tall ya, this boy has absorbed a lotta voltage'</span></em><br />
<br />
You gotta laugh, haven't you? {:o)<br />
<br />
They had found that one cardiac artery….. one of three supplying blood to the heart muscle, (a third of my heart’s blood supply), had been blocked for ‘some time’. They unblocked it and inserted the first stent there, but can’t be sure if I will benefit from the restored blood supply…. depends on how bad the damage to the heart muscle has been. If it’s ‘dead’ it won’t recover. The second stent was put in to open another artery which was almost blocked, and this was the one which was put in the wrong place, so another was put in do do the job, and that one was ok.<br />
<br />
Still, being positive for a rare moment… my heart is in better shape now and I’m not getting the chest pain that I was getting so often that I had been ignoring it. I'd thought it was either the usual ‘stress’ and anxiety pain courtesy of that fucking job and/or that of just being so unfit. It was actually angina, not just an anxiety ‘stress’ pain; to think I’ve been having angina pain for years and thinking it was stress and anxiety and when it got real bad, a ‘panic attack’ pain. Sometimes it would happen when I wasn’t feeling particularly stressed and I always thought that was real odd……<br />
<br />
Those bastards at work over the years have a lot to answer for..... Yes, you fucking soulless, yellow-livered, weenie bastards.... you know full well who you are.<br />
<br />
Sorry, to the rest of you...........<br />
<br />
I was only in there for three days, and when I was back here, sat alone after Maggie had dropped me off and had a cuppa with me, I looked around and thought how quiet and empty this place would be if I wasn't here any more. How everything here would mean nothing to whoever cleared it all out and dumped it.<br />
<br />
Trouble is, in many ways, it also felt like I'd just been to the dentist or something trivial like that.<br />
<br />
Kinda weird, man.<br />
<br />
The last thing on my mind was Christmas and like last year, I pretty much didn't bother with it. Sent off the cards again, and that was pretty much it really. Had an ok day though.... No Problem Pete called in for a natter and a cuppa late morning, and I took the little 350 Guzzi out for a spin to visit a couple of people in the afternoon. If you have nothing else, you have your mo'sickle, and she sure was a tonic to ride on Christmas Day. Took her for a thrash along some twisty roads on the way out. Got soaked on the way home in the rain.<br />
<br />
Been finally getting off my ass and doing some exercise this week. Been out on the bicycle every day for the last five days and have worked up from going hard at it for three miles on the first day to doing sixteen and a half miles on it yesterday. (Yeah, I know, I know, but I’m an all or nothing personality, y’see…) Legs and backside, (especially my backside), don’t like it much, but, hey, no chest pain, ......so that’s good then. {:o)<br />
<br />
Amazing what they can do so quickly now, …….even with a balls-up. {:o)<br />
<br />
It's late, I know, ......but Happy New Year to y'all<br />
K. {:o)Slurryoffagrapehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17616438111921039815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1763631474682549917.post-37606642929272730512011-10-20T16:13:00.000+01:002011-10-20T16:13:16.455+01:00My new little cutie...... {:o)Hi y'all,<br />
here I am again on another rare occasion, as writing to my poor old Blog is proving to be these days, to mention my latest weak moment.<br />
<br />
It was lateish at night, and I was on eBay, browsing for a bike I could buy, tart up a bit and sell again at a profit to get some desperately needed dosh coming in. As per the usual I wound up looking at sickles I'd like to buy for myself, as opposed to, say, a little scooter thing which I could sell to some pubescent, pustule-ridden, seminally incontinent punk kid, or more likely, his parents, for twice what I paid for it. Could be for a daughter I guess, but they're all little darlin's aren't they? Yoofs are quite something else.<br />
Anyway, I digress. One of the bikes I was looking at was a darlin' little V35, 350cc, Moto Guzzi. It looked as immaculate as they come for 1986 and before I could contain myself, I'd bid a limit of £900 in the last few seconds,..... immediately thinking "Oh NO!!!" when I realised I really shouldn't have done it.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BSlpue9TZmA/TqAxu44LsgI/AAAAAAAAATA/_AySzO6g234/s1600/PICT6882.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="245" rda="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BSlpue9TZmA/TqAxu44LsgI/AAAAAAAAATA/_AySzO6g234/s320/PICT6882.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>BIG relief when it hadn't made it's reserve, and so I hadn't actually 'won' with the bid my auto-bidding had reached.... £870.<br />
<br />
Whew!<br />
<br />
Close call.<br />
<br />
Put the 'puter to sleep, and went off to watch a good old John Wayne film, 'The Cowboys' on the telly. Checked emails afterwards, (like the saddo I am), only to read one telling me the seller had re-listed it for twenty-four hours, and was giving me a chance to buy it at my 'winning' bid as a 'Buy Now' price of £870.<br />
<br />
Bugger!<br />
<br />
Shit!<br />
<br />
Damn!<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-l8lN53LRsfY/TqAypOupI9I/AAAAAAAAATI/kOq-7LSxyBg/s1600/PICT6884.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="242" rda="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-l8lN53LRsfY/TqAypOupI9I/AAAAAAAAATI/kOq-7LSxyBg/s320/PICT6884.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Well, I tried, I really did, y'know.<br />
<br />
I struggled with the decision for more than an hour...... the usual thing a lot of you bikers out there will be familiar with.... looking at pics of the bike, road tests, reviews, opinions, searching for the downside, but only seeing the upside, thinking of all the reasons to buy it, and few of those why you shouldn't, etc. etc. etc.<br />
<br />
Decided I really mustn't.<br />
<br />
Then I bought it........<br />
<br />
As you do.<br />
<br />
Drove up to the other side of Milton Keynes a couple of days later, on one of those lovely hot sunny October days we had with my buddy, No Problem Pete, and the trailer, and brought the little cutie back to her new home.<br />
<br />
As usual, things were not quite as good as first thought..... The old girl wouldn't wouldn't do the 90mph she should, (Only 14,000 miles..... should still manage it), a bit smokey from the right cylinder, the 'new' tyres were old and perished.... (no I didn't look ..... had 'bought' it anyway) the rear with a two inch split in it close to the rim and filled in with some wax or boot polish, as were all the tiny perish splits, and the battery was dry and way too small, but I knew it was dodgy anyway. Chucking oil out everywhere when thrashed and dripping it on the floor. Haven't had a bike do that in a good few years..... well, the Enfield does a bit, but this little thing was worse.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AvOE6FVZ6tA/TqAy6SG0A1I/AAAAAAAAATQ/e-d4rhTSWBY/s1600/PICT6894.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rda="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AvOE6FVZ6tA/TqAy6SG0A1I/AAAAAAAAATQ/e-d4rhTSWBY/s320/PICT6894.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>I had her up on the nice new Bike Lift Bench (Haven't told you that saga yet, have I??? Another day), and took some things to bits. off with the carbs and checked and cleaned them, fixed the choke lever that wouldn't stay 'on' on it's own, checked the timing... not too bad, but will do it properly later on, tightened the alternator which was completely undone and not charging after a few short rides, and generally fiddled with her to get the last few gee-gee's liberated. Tightened the heads down, which needed doing as the bolts were the wrong torques, and checked the tappets, putting new gaskets on, which at least cured one oil leak from a rocker cover.<br />
<br />
Oh, and couldn't resist, ahem, 'machining' the zorsts with my beloved fifteen mil' masonry drill on an extension shaft. Cambel replacement 'standard' silencers, and all stuffed up with baffles. Sounds MUCH nicer now, and she finally <em>just </em>managed that flat-out ninety mph on the next run after all.<br />
<br />
Got some fork gaiters to put on sometime soon, and will leave the slight fork seal leak to keep things lubricated through the winter. I have a feeling the cartridge dampers inside the forks are knackered. A job for another day. The old girl seems to be using more juice than she should be, and I know the right carb is running rich for some reason, so I'll have to take it off again and have another gander at it.<br />
<br />
Ordered a new 'standard' and very expensive battery from the EXCELLENT Tayna Batteries.... a HUGE battery for such a little bike. After filling the old one already on the bike with about 200ml of water, it's holding it's own better than I thought so I might delay filling the new battery with the acid Tayna supplied, especially since it's the same battery recommended for the bigger 850 Guzzi I have tucked up 'awaiting attention'. Tayna advised that the new battery can be stored as supplied, and unfilled with acid, for 'several; years', so we'll see how the old battery survives the cold that's fast approaching.<br />
<br />
So.... there we are.... another mo'sickle I didn't really need, especially since I'm tryin gto live on bugger-all to stretch the savings and survive for long enough to get my shit together in the land of unemployment. <br />
<br />
What can you do, eh?<br />
<br />
She is a pretty little thing though, and another one which makes me smile when I look at her leaning over on her prop-stand in the coy way she does.<br />
<br />
Kinda reminds me of a girl I used to know.....<br />
<br />
............. a long time ago.<br />
K.x {:o)<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Here's a link to the EXCELLENT Tayna Batteries website. You won't find better for any vehicle, including lawnmowers, powered wheelchairs, you name it...... {:o)<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.tayna.co.uk/">Car Batteries, Motorcycle Batteries, Leisure Batteries - Next Day Delivery</a></div>Slurryoffagrapehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17616438111921039815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1763631474682549917.post-55961177496799219832011-09-06T16:58:00.002+01:002011-09-06T17:07:10.508+01:00Laughing in the rainMy buddy, No Problem Pete called around with his little 400 sporty Honda yesterday. I forget the model, but kinda like a CBR 400, an early R45. A Jap import. Cute little bike, 1985, a bargain buy on eBay.<br />
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“Take it for a spin”, he said, so I did. Couldn’t go far, as the alternator wasn’t charging the battery, but I couldn’t resist the temptation to run her up the blacktop and back. Haven’t been out on the bike in a few weeks, for various reasons, not one of them being all that good, but there you are. No matter. Got my lid and gloves and off I went in just my workshop overalls under the black rain clouds and soaking wet roads for a quick blast on this cute little number of a bike. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No, not this one, but one very like it.........</td></tr>
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You fit in this little bike, as all good bikes, like you were born as a part of it, like you always were a part of it, like you’ve known it for years and not just been introduced. Everything fits, she feels good under you. Feels like she approves of you right off, and you feel just the same. It’s an instant thing. Like women, some bikes are introduced to you, unexpectedly met or whatever, and there is a polite time when you are more than aware you are strangers, but some, oh boy, some feel like they were always around, like you knew them before. Familiar. Comfortable.</div><br />
Doesn’t happen all that often, but, bike or chick, when it happens it feels real good. Real special, and you know it’s going to be good from the get go. It’s a bang, crash, wallop love thing, and you can’t wait to get together. Wanna forget all the getting–to-know-you protocols, and get stuck right in.<br />
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Know what I mean?<br />
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If you don’t, I sure hope you get to knowing before you grow old and die, because you can live years out in a few seconds when you gel like magic. I’ve had moments in life when I’d sacrifice all that was to come for another second of it.<br />
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This bike felt like that good. We went off, me and this little gem of a bike. She was old by today’s standards, but even so she felt so damn good. Revved clear to the red line at fourteen thousand without a hesitation and would go past it eagerly given half a chance. So light, so small, so agile. Wet roads, old tyres, but she was as eager to please me as could be.<br />
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Hungry for me. I felt suddenly alive within yards, and the years dropped away, like they always do when I go down the road on a good bike. Hell, it happens on any bike really, but on something so cute and special, it really kicks in and the world beyond the bike and the road just vanishes. Like magic I’m not fifty-bloody-seven any more. I’m a young greaser on a motorcycle and once again free of the years that age us. The willing engine revved up and I shifted her through the gears in split-second clutchless changes, with barely a slight off and on flick of the throttle.<br />
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The old magic returned and I let her run free. She was loving it. What she was created for, what we were born to do together. Slipping off the side of the seat into the bends, wary of the old tyres on the wet road, and hugging the bike up real close, we gambolled together down the road as one in the spray we kicked up behind us. Laughing together at the fun of it all, the world stripped away to the simplicity of the moments flashing by second by second.<br />
The only way I know to be a boy again, at least momentarily, free of all the crap the years have heaped onto my once free and wild spirit.<br />
We hit a huge downpour and I was soaked through in seconds, the rain hurting my naked skin under the thin blue overalls. I was laughing out loud and screwing her open wider, making her wail harder, and she was so alive under me, urging me to whip her harder.<br />
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"Harder, big boy, harder, and fuck the rain."<br />
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It was real hard to turn her around and go home again.<br />
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On her back, I was just a boy on a bike, ....... laughing in the rain.<br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Slurryoffagrapehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17616438111921039815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1763631474682549917.post-48027476789572073902011-06-09T23:49:00.000+01:002011-06-09T23:49:17.498+01:00Just to say 'Hello'..........Well, the Harley fetched a good price on eBay and was taken away by a good new owner and his Chick on a trailer up to Yorkshire...... same area the Fantic went the week before. Sad to see her go, looking very vulnerable and alone perched on the trailer going down the roads. I hate selling my mo'sickles, and watching them go always brings a lump to the throat and something in the eye.<br />
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Still the bloke that bought her was one of the old brigade, and had bought it as a twenty-first present for his son. Lucky, lucky boy! Hope he deserves it.<br />
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The day the H-D went, I fired up Hoover, my 1200 Suzuki Bandit, and the little bitch was running on three cylinders again. It's a long story, but I've been plagued bu a mysterious misfire for way longer than I care to admit. It's turned out to be duff NGK Iridium plugs....... the best money can buy, and take it from me, you wouldn't believe the weird symptoms they've given. It's had me tearing my hair out...... well, if I had any I would've anyway.<br />
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She was missing on number three, so I took the plug out..... one of four brand new Iridium NGK's which had cured the misfire, and shoved in an old plug that was ok.<br />
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Misfire cured.<br />
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Quite unbelievable.<br />
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I've put in a new set of standard NGK plugs, and so the old warrior is running fine now. I resent the eighty quid I've spent on two sets of faulty Iridium plugs though. It's a lesson I've learnt before........ NEVER take it for granted that plugs are ok, especially just because they're new.<br />
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I dragged the 1976 850T3 Moto Guzzi (Italian bike) out and am going to breathe some life in the old girl........ She's been off the road for eight years now, so I'll let you know how it goes.<br />
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I'll try and not leave it so long........ I keep breaking the promises to write to my poor old neglected blog here, don't I?<br />
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As always....... more effort required. {:oI<br />
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Bye for now.........Slurryoffagrapehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17616438111921039815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1763631474682549917.post-540429919933232712011-05-28T20:24:00.000+01:002011-05-28T20:24:19.271+01:00Bikes sold, one gone, one to go.......... {:oIWell, I've had some luck in selling a couple of the bikes, quite a lot of luck actually, which is bleddy rare for me, let me tell you<br />
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The Fantic has been sold and has gone courtesy of eBay, and the Harley has also been 'bought' by someone on eBay for more than I thought I'd get, although it's worth every penny and is immaculate. The Harley has yet to be collected and the dosh handed over, so I'm not counting my chickens just yet. <br />
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The Fantic was a real eye-opener though........ It turned out to be a very rare Thierry Michaud Replica bike, and I had had no idea it was so special. The couple of photos here are of my Fantic after it was washed. Water sure makes things gleam a good bit. {:o)<br />
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</div><strong><em><span style="color: blue;">"My advice to you is to let the auction run, as I believe it will make close to a Grand!! It’s a Fantic 300 Thierry Michaud Replica and is VERY rare bike Good luck!!!</span></em></strong><br />
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I had a bit of a Google and found that Thierry Michaud won the Scottish Six-Days Trial on a Factory Works Fantic in '84, '85 and '86, which is no mean feat, let me tell you........ He was world trials champion three times too.<br />
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Here's a link if you want to read more about him....<br />
<a href="http://www.thebikeinsurer.co.uk/thierry-michaud-a-frenchman-who-adores-the-ssdt/">http://www.thebikeinsurer.co.uk/thierry-michaud-a-frenchman-who-adores-the-ssdt/</a><br />
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Here's a YouTube link of him in 1986......<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=py7xWk1qqEc">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=py7xWk1qqEc</a><br />
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Anyway....... get this........ I was offered £1,500 CASH!!!! on the Sunday morning by a guy up in Middlesbrough via an email........ <br />
Yup….. one thousand, five hundred pounds!!!!!<br />
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I thought I’d be lucky to get £500!!!!! {:o)<br />
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Then another guy offered £1,250 cash if the Middlesbrough guy pulled out<br />
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In the event he knocked me down to £1300 because he could see it had evidence of having had a sidecar on it, the engine wouldn't start (I thought I had a while to get the carb cleaned before the auction closed) and a footrest had been welded on........ all minor stuff and he was trying it on really I think, but, what the hell........ I'm hopeless at this haggling shit and besides, I'd done WAAAY better than I ever dreamt I would!!!<br />
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My Flabber was completely Ghasted......... I've never made so much as a quid profit selling anything before in my entire life, and here I've made a huge profit in a single deal. Well, I think it's a huge profit anyway...... {:o)<br />
Fancy, that old bike I paid £350 for 18 years ago and has been buried behind all that junk for years, was actually a VERY rare bike........ Few were ever made. Special bits in the engine, special paint job (which was good bit knackered!), special frame and special suspension. Done up and restored, it's prolly worth more than double what I've sold it for, but I don't have the access to sourcing the parts like these specialist boys, and anyway, I’m delighted with the deal.<br />
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He texted to say he cleaned the carb and it started just fine. I guess he knew that all along.<br />
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Whatever...... it cheered me up the most I've been for ages.<br />
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Yet another example of my dear old dad's mantra......... "You never know what's around the corner".<br />
K. {:o)Slurryoffagrapehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17616438111921039815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1763631474682549917.post-38876072092447222532011-05-19T23:25:00.000+01:002011-05-19T23:25:16.902+01:00Wonders....... they will never cease. {:o)Well, by the skin of my little withered appendage I have managed to start to get yet another of my mo'sickles ready for the eBay market.<br />
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I tried all day to get my ass in gear, and off it too, but it wasn't until something like 4.30 this afternoon that I finally unlocked the workshop and dragged out a bike that never gets used. It's a 240cc Fantic, an Italian competition trials bike I've had stored away for several years now. I bought it partly to help a guy I knew with BIG money problems and had gone bankrupt, losing pretty much everything. He was selling his trials Fantic, and I kinda fancied having a go at trials anyway, so I gave him what he wanted for it and took home to play around on it.<br />
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I'm a fast road rider, and road riding and off-road riding are opposite ends of the motorcycling spectrum. Starting trials in my late forties was a non-starter, and I never got going with it beyond just messing about half-heartedly on the newly acquired Fantic.<br />
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<strong><em><u>Not my Fantic, but one like it</u></em></strong><br />
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So, here I am, getting with the program of trying to thin-out a bit, and get rid of things I'm just never going to use. The Harley wasn't one of them, being more than usable, but this poor old Fantic of mine sure deserves an owner who will use it as it was intended to be used.<br />
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I washed it, ......power washed it, which blew some paint off the engine and forks for a start. It's quite tatty, and needs a good going through, if not stripping and doing up. It's all there though, and would be usable with less that a couple of days work, to sort things like the front brake out and draining and cleaning the carb and plug to get it fired up again. I'll have a bit of a look at it tomorrow..... <em>IF</em> I can get my sorry ass in gear a good bit earlier than today. This time of night I can get a bit of enthusiasm going, but every morning I start from scratch again and begin the long haul to coax myself into something resembling 'action', usually later in the day.<br />
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So..... tomorrow, at least get the carb off and cleaned out, clean the plug too and mix up some two-stroke and see if I can get it to fire up. As I remember it was always a bit of a pig to start...... maybe the crank seals aren't all they should be, or the plug a bit tired. Dunno.<br />
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<strong><em><u>No, not me, nor my Fantic either...... just a trials rider.</u></em></strong><br />
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Hell, looking at the pics online makes me wanna have another go at it. Dangerous territory now I'm 56-almost-57..... there lies anything between simple embarrassment and a hospital bed with me in it. Still, maybe I could just have another little try at it. <br />
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Maybe I should do this Fantic up a bit....... maybe, maybe, maybe.......<br />
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Maybe I should just use common sense, stick to Plan A and get it sold, more like!!!!<br />
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I'll get some photos taken, and let y'all know how it goes........<br />
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K. {:o)Slurryoffagrapehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17616438111921039815noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1763631474682549917.post-60560736841925322282011-05-18T22:02:00.006+01:002011-05-18T22:44:35.794+01:00Betraying my Baby......... {:oiWell, I've gone and done it..... I've put my Baby on eBay.<br />
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My beautiful burgundy Harley is up there with the rest of them, all lined up in the online cattle-market to be chosen by their next owner, whoever he or she may be. Yes, quite a few Chicks buy these Sportsters, partly because it's a Harley, and partly because of the low seat height on them. Chicks look real good on Harley's, whether on the back or on the front. <br />
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Always did.<br />
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Always will.<br />
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Some things are just sooooo 'right' and a girl on a Harley is one that God himself must surely have ordained.<br />
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She's been cleaned and polished by me for the last time, and I'm taking her down for her MOT on Saturday morning so the new owner will have a years ticket.<br />
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She looks real good. <br />
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I parked her under the apple tree to take her eBay photos and, as it always does, it felt like a bad thing to be doing.<br />
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Deceitful.<br />
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A betrayal of a good and faithful friend.<br />
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I always feel bad when I sell any of my bikes, especially those who have really got under my skin, ...........and this little honey sure has done that.<br />
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I can honestly say that every time I've opened the workshop door I've felt a big smile spread over my face. Every single time. She always looks so damn pretty sat there quietly waiting for me, her paint and chrome glinting softly in the dim light of the workshop, a perfect, dignified, beautiful thing in the oily, untidy chaos surrounding her. <br />
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I've gone out there just to look at her, just to cheer myself up on the many days lately when nothing else works, and she always at least helps for the moment. Sliding onto her low seat, she fits so perfectly as I take her weight off her prop-stand and heave her upright. Heavy iron. Solid and friendly. We sit there together for ages, sometimes in silence, sometimes I talk to her. Make promises to her we both know I can't keep, but promises I mean nonetheless. Places we'll go together; the dawns I'll ride her through, the roads I'll thread her along under bright moonlight, and most of all how I'll never sell her to another.<br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Z_TpPpIaAsc/TdQ5nusDvoI/AAAAAAAAARY/jnHpvibVivM/s1600/HD+left+side+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="258" j8="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Z_TpPpIaAsc/TdQ5nusDvoI/AAAAAAAAARY/jnHpvibVivM/s320/HD+left+side+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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Me and my motorcycle, something simple that has always been the mainstay in my life. When those I trusted the most have betrayed me, when life has bent me to the ground, I've always had a motorcycle like this one to remind me that all you need is a big bike and the road. Ideally a big bike, a Chick and the road, .....but sometimes the Chick is the thing that brought you down. A bike is always there. She never leaves.<br />
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It's you who sends her away.<br />
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So, there I was, taking photos of her posing proudly in the sunlight, unaware we'll never ride in sunshine or under moonlight again. That we won't battle through rain and freezing cold again. That I won't open the garage at three in the morning to sit on her on nights I can't sleep for the bad-shit crowding my head.<br />
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That she won't carry me safe and sound for miles and miles and miles and miles, in the reassuringly solid way that is quite unique to her.<br />
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That I broke my promise, and she has only ten quiet days left with me.<br />
K. {:o(<br />
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<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yzT_RT4HAgg/TdQxOOUPVHI/AAAAAAAAARU/XSrAAvIg2dY/s1600/HD+Right+side+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="280" j8="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yzT_RT4HAgg/TdQxOOUPVHI/AAAAAAAAARU/XSrAAvIg2dY/s320/HD+Right+side+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Slurryoffagrapehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17616438111921039815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1763631474682549917.post-2887740961786777272011-05-08T20:48:00.002+01:002011-05-08T20:54:37.910+01:00HEY!! I’ve bought an Amazon Kindle Reader<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fHIoIzcOjoE/TcbrvBKXm8I/AAAAAAAAARA/cAGMczpwOIg/s1600/KINDLE+%2526+books1.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" j8="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fHIoIzcOjoE/TcbrvBKXm8I/AAAAAAAAARA/cAGMczpwOIg/s320/KINDLE+%2526+books1.bmp" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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Well, when I say I’ve bought an Amazon Kindle Reader, I haven’t bought it today, but about a month ago or so,……. and, y’know what? It’s fantastic. {:o)<br />
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Let's get this straight, right from the beginning. I love books. The paper ones; hardback, paperback, whatever. I have spent a fortune on them, and the house is crammed to the gunnels with them. <br />
I love the feel of them, the weight, the smell of them, especially the second hand ones which have had a life already..... No it's not a fetish, but doncha just love to fan the pages and smell the wafted air from the pages, both new and old? <br />
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No? <br />
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Ok, It's just me then....... No matter. (Sigh) <br />
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I love the expectation of the postman delivering them. (Yes, most bought from the excellent Amazon) <br />
I love leafing through them before I read them, cuppa tea in hand, and with several to choose from. <br />
I rarely lend them. <br />
I NEVER get rid of them. <br />
Covetous of those I don't have. <br />
Possessive of those I do. <br />
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So. .....Y'all got that?.... I love books...... I rilly rilly do. <br />
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But........ I love my Kindle too. <br />
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I never thought I would..... a friend, Suzy, bought one and was soooo enthusiastic about it, that I wound up left-clicking a couple of times and before you knew it, I'd bought one. You know how it goes. All too easy to do. I thought I'd just blown a load of dosh on yet another cheer-up faddy possession I'd soon leave abandoned and unused. Another thing that seemed a good idea at the time. <br />
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But I love it. Haven't read anything on paper since. (Two weeks or so) <br />
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It really was as easy to use as the blurb said. I had a quick look at the instructions, in the Manly Way we Real Men do...... and hey, waddya know.... It was really easy to use! <br />
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It connected to my Kindle account via my Belkin wireless router, independently of any computer and, being already registered to it by those very nice people at Amazon, it downloaded my books onto itself. (I'd already `bought' some free Kindle books on Amazon and downloaded the `Kindle for PC' software, so had an account already set up). <br />
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By the way..... I bought the wi-fi one, not the 3G version, as I'm happy to do my downloading within range of the wireless router, and don't really feel I need to be able to do that away from home, which you can do with the 3G. You don't need to have the computer on or be connected to it to download, or to use it to buy from Amazon, or browse the internet. I haven't used it to browse websites on the internet yet, but evidently it will do that too. <br />
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It charges from a USB on a computer, or a three-pin 240 volt plug, and both the plug and USB cable are supplied with the Kindle. Battery life seems good. I seem to charge it every two or three days, and I'm using it a fair bit every day too. Takes maybe a couple of hours or so to charge. Haven't timed it, but it's not too long. I’ll give you a possible tip here….. I let it discharge to the point that I got an exclamation mark ‘Low Battery’ warning on the battery level symbol at the top of the ‘Home’ page, and then had a helluva job recharging it. It just would not charge up. I rang the helpline, and spoke to a call-centre helper; unfortunately with a ‘foreign’ accent….. having hearing problems I struggle with ANY strong accent, and so it was a bit of a struggle although her English was actually good and she could understand my Cornish accent fine. Hat’s off to her, whoever she was. Eventually, when we got nowhere with the problem, I was put onto an Irish guy…. Lovely chap, but the accent was a problem still, but not as bad so we fumbled through. <br />
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Anyway, that’s kinda not really the issue. I seemed to fix this by ‘restarting’ the kindle again, as in ‘resetting’ it……. I guess like turning a computer off and starting it again when it’s gone all to hell. I’d already done this the once to no effect but after doing it again it finally charged up fully a couple of hours later. I haven’t charged it since, but fingers crossed it’s now ok again.<br />
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I’d say not to tempt fate and let the battery go almost completely flat before recharging it. Do it a bit before that.<br />
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The friendly Irish guy phoned me a couple of days later, as he said he would to see if the problem was resolved, and I have to say the support was excellent. It was my problem with my accents really, although many people have the same problem with these call centres from what I hear.<br />
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Whilst I think of it….. the battery life is weeks rather than days between charges, BUT if you leave it connected on Wi-Fi, and especially with a weak signal which draws even more battery current as it struggles to get a good signal, then the battery will need charging more often. Te other big drain on the battery is when you have a lot of book on there….. I had some 330 books loaded on. The kindle works away in the background indexing all the books, which can take days or longer. It does this even on ‘screensaver’ idle, and will drain the battery more quickly. I was advised to reduce the books I had loaded onto the Kindle, but I didn’t, and I think the indexing has finished, because the battery seems to be lasting longer. I have a friend….. Suzy who got me interested and finally tempted to buy this Kindle, who has over 2,000 books on hers. I haven’t asked her yet if she has problems with battery life.<br />
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I always turn my Wi-Fi connection off when I’m not using it, so it’s off almost all the time as I rarely use the connection. I also turn the kindle off completely (hold the power slider switch over for seven seconds until the screen goes blank) when I’m not using it for several hours, instead of leaving it on the ‘screensaver’. Not sure it makes a lot of difference though, as I believe it only uses power when ‘turning’ pages or automatically changing the picture on the screen saver once in a while.<br />
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Ok… what’s it like to use?<br />
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For novels and such it's just great........ I wouldn't really use it for reference and `information' books where you'd frequently flip to and fro the pages in a paper version, as returning to previous pages some way back isn't as convenient as with paper books, but otherwise it's just fine. <br />
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I REALLY like the easy way you can select a word and the dictionary kicks in to reduce my ignorance.... So easy. <br />
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As an avid collector of quotes, phrases and such, I especially like the way you can highlight and save words or passages from the book into a separate `Clippings' folder automatically. Very easy to do. <br />
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You can read PDF's on it, but I can't comment on that as I haven't done it yet. You can read documents of your own on it too, PDF and, I think, Word .docs. Amazon automatically keeps your books bought from them online, so if anything happens to the Kindle, you haven't `lost' books you bought. Other books and documents, you need to back up yourself onto a computer, which is very easy to do if you're reasonably computer literate. When you connect the Kindle to a computer, the computer `sees' the Kindle as an extra `drive', and you just drag and drop documents to and fro the folders, from either the computer to the Kindle, or vice versa. <br />
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Simples!!! <br />
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When I go anywhere, and I'm usually on a motorcycle when I do, I take at least a couple of books and a couple of magazines; I can never make up my mind completely enough for just one item, but this kindle can hold THOUSANDS of books. Not sure how many thousands, but a thousand would be plenty, surely and I know it's more than two thousand. Suzy has something like 2,500 on hers. So far I have only some 330 on mine. <br />
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What would I like to see on it? (Bearing in mind that maybe I'm not fully aware of all its capabilities yet) <br />
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I would like to be able to select the chapter heading to be on each page, if I wanted it. I have a rubbish memory, and it would be good to be able to `flick' to and fro the e-book more easily too. Don't see this as much of a problem though; like I say, I have a lousy memory, and I have been just fine with it. <br />
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A page number instead of a `percentage' place mark would be good..... although maybe this is available, and I haven't found it yet. <br />
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Ummm..... do you know, right now, I can't think of anything else. <br />
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I haven't tried it's read-aloud capability, nor it's audio music playing function...... in fact I've done nothing else but just reading the books on it, and there are plenty of free books available, particularly the older books now out of copyright. The other functions are icing on an already delicious cake.... It is a e-book reader, and it excels at that. It's what it was designed to do, and what I bought it for. It does that very well. <br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-82EgyjMMB_E/TcbvE1Vn8II/AAAAAAAAARM/I9QoJFYjrh4/s1600/My+Kindle+%2526+case+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" j8="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-82EgyjMMB_E/TcbvE1Vn8II/AAAAAAAAARM/I9QoJFYjrh4/s320/My+Kindle+%2526+case+2.jpg" width="243" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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Buy a `protective' wallet for it on eBay..... so much cheaper and excellent.... Well the black `leather' case I bought for something like £7.99 inc. p&p was anyway. It's actually easier to hold in a case. The bottom function buttons are very SLIGHTLY fiddlier to use, but the page-turning buttons are as easily accessible as when it's naked. (That's the Kindle, as in out-of-it's-case, not me, y'know, `naked'!) <br />
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<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SjHUj-rpCCs/Tcbu2_R4MLI/AAAAAAAAARI/MmEj0ZNYIc8/s1600/My+Kindle+%2526+case+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="206" j8="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SjHUj-rpCCs/Tcbu2_R4MLI/AAAAAAAAARI/MmEj0ZNYIc8/s320/My+Kindle+%2526+case+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;">Whilst you’re on eBay, there are people selling DVD’s packed with books in ‘mobi’ format, which is the format the kindle uses. Many are also in PDF format, which I’ve heard isn’t as easy to read. Haven’t tried to read PDF’s yet myself, so hold judgement on that, ok? A cheap source of loads of books, but try and make sure you know what books are being offered so you don't buy a load of books you'll never read..... I guess if you only read a quarter on what's listed it's still a bargain.</div><br />
The e-Book really is the future, and that actually kinda makes me sad, because if someone like me can make such a turnaround, ........someone so beloved of the traditional book and so outspoken that he would never prefer something like a kindle reader to the heft of those much loved book, ....... Then the printed book really is in trouble already. <br />
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And I feel like a traitor to the book, and I'm sorry for that, so I will still buy those really special books in traditional paper form, ……..but I have been seduced by this lovely Kindle reader. <br />
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I doubt you will be disappointed if you buy one. Easy to use, works as well as the blurb says, and the way Amazon have their bookselling tied into it, it is seamless in its function with them. I buy few things these days that turn out to match the bullshit advertising. This one was a lovely surprise. It was more than that….. it was BRILLIANT! <br />
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But .........I wish I didn't feel like I was helping to light the fire under my lovely paper books. <br />
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I am a traitor. {:oi<br />
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<a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B002Y27P46/?tag=googhydr-21&hvadid=7734780766&ref=pd_sl_8vyaot5h0k_e">Click on this link and go have a little look..... not that you're going to buy one of course..... {:o)</a>Slurryoffagrapehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17616438111921039815noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1763631474682549917.post-7694068341135174972011-05-07T21:56:00.003+01:002011-05-07T22:30:47.325+01:00The beauty of machines long gone,...... and the bikes we first loved.I was browsing and came across this lot on YouTube..... Marble and Ball Bearing Machines. I love these things.... real clever stuff. <br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">This guy makes them very well........ look at his YouTube 'channel' list of vids (on the right side)</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/user/denha#p/u/7/K5MVNnVbWa8">http://www.youtube.com/user/denha#p/u/7/K5MVNnVbWa8</a></div><br />
Brilliant!!! balls land right in the exact spot every time. Shows a different return mechanism halfway through. Amazing stuff!!! {:o)<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/user/denha#p/u/29/6FLB-FcX0CY">http://www.youtube.com/user/denha#p/u/29/6FLB-FcX0CY</a><br />
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Soooooo neatly made.....<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/user/denha#p/u/49/p6R7R33dE84">http://www.youtube.com/user/denha#p/u/49/p6R7R33dE84</a><br />
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Real neat elastic band gun..... shows how it's mechanism works, about halfway through.<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/user/denha#p/u/26/nkqesLSXe4Q">http://www.youtube.com/user/denha#p/u/26/nkqesLSXe4Q</a><br />
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Those of you who like to fix and 'make' things will especially be able to see the craftsmanship, difficulty and cleverness in making these things. Must be sooooo many prototypes made and much experimentation to get it just right. I'd love to know how he bends the wire so beautifully. No scrapes, no burrs, no kinks.<br />
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When I've got my shit together, (should I ever do so), I'm gonna make pointless things like this......just to sit there and watch and listen to it all working away.<br />
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Machinery of any kind working away is a pleasure to watch, or rather, these days, machinery that you <em>CAN</em> watch working...... everything now is hidden away from sight, and what machines there are available with a few visibly working parts are pretty ugly.<br />
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No brass, copper, and polished steel and alloy gleaming away any more. No oil and fuel minutely weeping from compression joints and housings and flanges. No hot metals gently marinating in the machine's juices seeping out here and there, spread with an oily rag as a watching mechanic wipes it away like a mother tending a child in need of her tender care.<br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">No characteristic smells of those old machines. I cut my teeth, like all us Old Greasers, on old British bikes, and they were all pretty much the same. By the time yoofs like me got our deadly-keen hands on them, they had been through many hands before us, grading ever downwards from experienced hands when they were proud and shiny-new bikes, through those less able, to finally find themselves at the mercy of us youngsters. Keen as mustard, but knowing Sweet Bugger-All.</div><br />
When we had our first bike, we yoofs of sixteen and younger, were not yet learned in the battle-hardened skills of Old Greasers, so essential to keep these bikes reliable and running as they should. Those poor bikes; the likes of the 175cc BSA Bantams, 250cc BSA C15's, 200cc Tiger Cubs and the like, they gave themselves up to us as cheap and worn out shadows of their new selves. Like old whores long since bereft of any traces of pride, they stood before us tired and jaded, having no choice but to turn tricks for us as we eagerly clutched at them and made clumsy love to them all.<br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LMTDteJVFJU/TcWjpF9lCXI/AAAAAAAAAQs/GDofBpv_oxA/s1600/Ariel%252520golden%252520Arrow%252520250cc%252520008.jpg" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604065237702871410" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LMTDteJVFJU/TcWjpF9lCXI/AAAAAAAAAQs/GDofBpv_oxA/s320/Ariel%252520golden%252520Arrow%252520250cc%252520008.jpg" style="height: 320px; width: 240px;" /></a>Mine..... she was a 250cc Ariel Golden Arrow Sports, but with a shameful past. She had killed her previous lover. <br />
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He was riding it around a field, with no helmet as we all did back then, especially in fields and the like. His father heard the bike go quiet and after a while when it didn't restart he walked over to the field to find to find his son dead. He'd come off it and hit a tree and was lying beside the bike. The bike was undamaged and stayed there leaned against the hedge in shame to die itself, until one day my father took it away for me.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I was fifteen when I first had my eager hands on her and I loved that bike the way you love the first girl you adore. Every bit as much. My every waking moment was filled with thoughts and pure lust for her. I'd wanted her for years. I worked on her and made all my mistakes on her, both in working on her and riding her flat-out everywhere I went. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
She taught me well, did that bike, like an older woman would nurture a youth in his clumsy loving of her. She kept me alive no matter how I abused both her and my luck. I rode absolutely flat-out on her everywhere until we both suddenly found ourselves with our luck clean run out one sunny morning. In a split second my life was changed forever. Riding back alone from Damar Bay to Wadebridge, in Cornwall where I lived, we suddenly found ourselves at the wrong place at the wrong time ......... and her second young lover was very nearly killed.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I was hit head-on by a green Mini Van which was overtaking on a blind corner. We were both doing around 60 to 70mph, and so it was a closing speed and an impact of around 120 to 140mph. I never even saw the colour of the car. I was smashed to bits, and made it to the hospital, so the surgeon told my poor Mother, with less than fifteen minutes to spare, and that it was a job to keep me alive. <br />
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My beloved Ariel Arrow died that day. Twisted and broken, no one ever rode her again. Never.<br />
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It wasn't her fault. Neither was it her fault when her other lover died. He made the mistake, not her. I didn't make a mistake, it was just fate choosing us to hang on the scales of chance with Death in the other pan.<br />
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Bikes, they never make the mistakes, they just struggle to keep us all alive and get us home again, despite our wildness and mistakes. So many since that old Ariel Arrow have looked after me and kept me safe, and I've loved every single one of them in return. Hoover most of them all. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">God, ............that lot was upsetting to write. Always is. Some things never leave you, do they? God, I was so young. But for nothing, not the slimmest measurable thing, was I nearly dead at sixteen.<br />
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Then I did it all again at eighteen. Never once did I not want to ride again as soon as I could get a half-healed leg over a bike. Bikes and women...... you can't keep me from climbing back on before even the dust has settled. What else is there in life? Nothing. Good luck to you if you think there is.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Where was I, before I rolled along that old overgrown and rarely visited track?</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Yes, ...... the beauty of machines and the way those old first bikes let us practise on them so we could learn to take care of later loves better. Ride them way better too. We learnt real fast. We were all so young and wild back in those days, and there was no choice but to learn the lessons quickly, those of us lucky enough to survive out on the roads to ride again the next day. Yup, that's pretty much no exaggeration, not for the wildest of us anyway. There was a saying, not unique to us I guess, but very apt nonetheless...... </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">"There are only two kinds of Greaser; .......the Quick and the Dead". </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I was Quick. (And, yes, a good bit lucky too)</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">K.xxx {:o)</div></div>Slurryoffagrapehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17616438111921039815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1763631474682549917.post-7632406211159884512011-05-06T19:55:00.007+01:002011-05-07T23:00:52.295+01:00Oh dear, ......he's gardening {:oIHi y'all,<br />
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I can’t believe the last pathetic attempt to gee myself up into action and start writing on here regularly was so <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">bleddy</span> long ago.<br />
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Or that I failed so immediately either.<br />
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I am <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">sooooo</span> weak.<br />
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I’<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">ve</span> just done a Tweet Thing on the Tweeting Twitter Thing website…… I signed up and did a couple Tweet Things ages ago. Not really sure about the point of it really, but there we are. An Old Greaser has to at least attempt to keep abreast of these exciting times we live in. Anyway, if you’re desperately bored senseless, and want to stimulate a couple of brain cells, go you ahead and visit my Tweeting Twitter Thing.<br />
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It really will change your life………….<br />
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http://twitter.com/#!/slurryoffagrape<br />
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So………. What exciting news, here on the Fortress <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Wheelrest</span> front?<br />
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Biggest thing…… lost my job……. Well, not as in ‘sacked’ or made redundant, but I finally just threw in the towel. It had got unbearable to carry on. Thirty-eight years caring for people, and poof……… it ends with a whimper.<br />
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So be it.<br />
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Fare thee well, fellow carers…… I’m gone. End of.<br />
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Unemployed whilst depressed is the new deal.<br />
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Hopefully it will, eventually, be just ‘unemployed’. Then maybe, eventually, I’ll find some way of making some dosh again…….. Everything is kinda ‘eventually’ in my life right now. I’m faintly having some very faint illusions of being faintly self-employed, although just how or doing what is even fainter in it’s clarity, but, hey ho, who knows what’s around the corner.<br />
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Who gives a shit…….. that’s what’s getting me through right now. Who gives a shit.<br />
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<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Ok</span>, ………on a positive note….. a habit I’m trying to muster into my day to day way of being……… Positiveness……… On a positive note….. I’m trying to get a vegetable garden going.<br />
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A <em>WHAT!!!!!?????<br />
</em>Yup, a vegetable garden. My New Thing….. An idea stimulated ‘cos Unemployment whilst depressed Plan ‘A’ entails living off savings in a minimal way for as long as possible in the hope that Something Will Come Along…….. I’m kinda thinking like the Calvary always did for good old John Wayne. What’s good enough for good old John Wayne, is good enough for me. Bound to happen. Always does on the films.<br />
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It <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">doesn</span>’t come easy to an Old Greaser, though. A vegetable garden is second only, and a very close second, to that of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">caravanning</span>. I wish to be shot if I ever even get close to doing something other than using a caravan as another shed. The only thing I can think of as a honourable use for one besides that of living in one as a simple way of life. That’s <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">ok</span> too. The holiday towing-them-around-for-fun thing is quite something else……… still, everyone to their own perversions, so don’t get upset if it’s your thing. I just wish y’all <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">didn</span>’t bugger up the ‘flow’ for me and Hoover as we ‘press on’ in blissful harmony along our beloved blacktop.<br />
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Where was I? Yes the vegetable patch. There are two now…. Veg patch No.1 and, yes, you’<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">ve</span> guessed it…. Veg patch No.2<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-X8swNleopUs/TcRc-zpOzDI/AAAAAAAAAQM/pz_fDMYjbso/s1600/PICT6442-EXP.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5603706070440528946" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-X8swNleopUs/TcRc-zpOzDI/AAAAAAAAAQM/pz_fDMYjbso/s320/PICT6442-EXP.jpg" style="cursor: hand; height: 320px; width: 294px;" /></a><br />
<strong><em>Veg Patch No.1 .....early on in the digging struggle.</em></strong><br />
Helluva job digging them over, and I’<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">ve</span> recently planted a few bits into the mud. Well, it <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">wasn</span>’t mud, but dry earth, until I thought it a good idea to water it before planting…… <em>THEN</em> it was proper mud. Like all my schemes that seem a good idea at the time, it suddenly <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">wasn</span>’t a good idea.<br />
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Never mind.<br />
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Life is a never-ending learning curve. (Sigh)<br />
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Some plant things I'd bought already growing in pot things from a garden centre. Not cheap either. A pot thing with four raspberry stick things in it..... over nine <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">bleddy</span> quit they were!!! <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Jeeees</span>!!!!<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gQiOPMRe3wg/TcRfo-bvMeI/AAAAAAAAAQU/k4LSkl7Axuw/s1600/PICT6455-EXP.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5603708993914483170" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gQiOPMRe3wg/TcRfo-bvMeI/AAAAAAAAAQU/k4LSkl7Axuw/s320/PICT6455-EXP.jpg" style="cursor: hand; height: 320px; width: 314px;" /></a><br />
<strong><em>Veg Patch No.1 ..... finished and with some evidence of plants attempting to grow.</em></strong><br />
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What made it worse was the fact that I felt real odd in the garden centre. It wasn't natural for an Old Greaser.<br />
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Everyone knew it too. They were all staring, I’m sure-certain. I thought my dick was hanging out for a minute, but you can usually tell...... kinda cold and tingly on the end. I felt like saying “You <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">lookin</span>’ at my Bird?”, ......from habit, as you do, ..........but I was on my own. Right now I still haven’t got a Bird…… (that’s a Bird, as in a Chick). These are desperate times I'm living through, let me tall you. Even if I did have a Chick, somehow it <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">wouldn</span>’t have been a good idea anyway,…. the "You <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">lookin</span>' at my Bird" thing...... Aggression in a garden centre just <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">doesn</span>’t work really, does it? Pretty much for the same reasons as it <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">doesn</span>’t in a Church ……… just not done, is it? So I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">didn</span>’t get all iffy about it...…. just kinda pretended I was dreaming and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">wasn</span>’t really there, all <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">nonchalant and cool</span>, but in fact was wandering around looking like a lost soul trying to figure out what was what.<br />
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I tell you, there’s a helluva lot to it y’know. God only knows how the planet ever got started, ‘cos you gotta do it just right, or the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">bleddy</span> stuff won’t grow y’know. It’ll just keel over and die. I've read all about it I have. I tell you, it's way easier to do the timing on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">Hailwood's</span> racing 250 Honda Six. In the dark too ………..with just an old pair of pliers and a bit of fag paper. Way easier. If you don’t know anything about it, that Honda had six cylinders, and believe me, it would be a right <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">soduvajob</span> to get the timing right with just an old pair of pliers and a bit of fag paper.<br />
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No, I’m not going to explain. Ask an Old Greaser …..if you can find one amongst the newbie fairies riding around in disguise these days.<br />
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So,........ 'Unemployed and Growing Vegetables'.<br />
<br />
I’<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">ve</span> even…… and I sure would appreciate your discretion in this matter……… I’<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">ve</span> even purchased several gardening magazines. Just, y’know, to get the gist of it, and maybe gee-up something akin to enthusiasm for growing stuff. Got twelve six-pint milk bottle bottoms with various seeds growing way past the point where they should be ‘Pricked Out’........ ‘Pricked Out’ I believe it’s the correct term, so I hope you’ll excuse my using it, ………and please stop <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">sniggering</span> at the back there, Peterson…. It’s not smart and it’s not clever.<br />
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I fished out some lettuce seedlings from their overcrowded crowded milk tub yesterday(‘seedlings’…..see, I’m getting into it), and shoved them in the mud. Seemed like a waste of time…… they looked like they’d died as soon as I dragged them out of the cosy bit of compost they were huddled up in, and if they last a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29">bleddy</span> week, let alone actually grow, no one will be more amazed than me.<br />
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<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30">Ok</span>, that’s it for now……. I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31">rilly</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32">rilly</span> WILL try and write to this blog more often. I won’t make any more promises to you, dear gentle reader, having been broken more than the once before, I won’t swear to every day, but maybe at least once a week <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33">wouldn</span>’t bend a push-rod, eh?<br />
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Have to see………<br />
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Take care out there, y’all,<br />
K.xxx {:o)Slurryoffagrapehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17616438111921039815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1763631474682549917.post-6570959695045436732011-01-12T15:49:00.000+00:002011-01-12T17:02:37.032+00:00On Nothing....... and it's effects on life.Ok, here I am again…… as promised yesterday, but I have to say, only by the skin of my teeth.<br /><br />Right, start writing………..<br /><br />Um…… what exactly?<br /><br />Just start writing about whatever comes to mind.<br /><br />OK…………<br /><br />Nothing.<br /><br />Still Nothing.<br /><br />Bugger.<br /><br />What about ‘Nothing’?<br /><br />Ok. (You’re talking to yourself again y’know)<br /><br />Has Nothing got any power at all…….. most would say ‘No’……. BUT……<br /><br />Doing Nothing is still doing Something, because if you’re doing Nothing instead of Something, it still changes your life. It STILL has an effect.<br /><br />Everything changes your life<br /><br />Every thought, every conversation, every action…….. and every non-action.<br /><br />All life changing.<br /><br />There is no doubt though that action, however small brings about the biggest changes, but in a way so does non-action too. It means you didn’t do Something that changed things at that moment, that day, or whenever. That means the effect of the action you will eventually take in the future will be different as a result, because of the non-action in the present.<br /><br />What is Nothing anyway? I guess I mean Nothing as in No Action, rather than the Nothing we perceive in the vacuum of Space, the Universe…. Up and Out There. Even that isn’t Nothing. There is stuff everywhere.<br /><br />There is no such thing as Nothing really. Nothing is always Something.<br /><br />Nothing, in its purest form of inaction, must mean just lying, sitting or standing still, not thinking and with your eyes shut. How many can do that? Is it possible, unless in a comatose state? I doubt it, but maybe someone knows better.<br /><br />If your eyes are open and seeing something, even a blank white wall, then that will promote some Thinking. If they’re shut, that will promote some Thinking too. Thinking is not doing Nothing……. and Thinking is vastly underrated as far as being regarded as action goes, in my opinion anyway.<br /><br />Mind you, I would say that, being an enthusiastic follower of The Thinking as I am.<br /><br />It’s a source of constant fascination to me, the effects of actions and non-actions on each of us and others too. You’re reading this and as a result, directly or indirectly, it might well have some effect on your life and perhaps in a way you will never consider or be aware of.<br /><br />Lately, I’ve been doing a lot of Nothing, when I’m very aware I should be doing Something because I’m sat on the tracks in life right now and there’s a train coming my way. It’s not going to stop and I really should be taking some action, preferably actions, to at least get out of its way. The most I can muster to do is to try and keep my mind from sinking ever deeper into the mire that numbs it right now, which I know isn’t enough, but at least it’s some form of action, however small.<br /><br />You do what you can do; you can’t do a whole lot more than that at any given time in life.<br /><br />But I digress.<br /><br />Ok, I’m trying to make myself feel better about doing Nothing, but in fact it’s real hard to actually achieve the state of really doing absolutely Nothing. Something is always happening in the background, even if It’s only The Thinking…….. and eventually The Thinking leads to doing Something. It pretty much has to.<br /><br />I actually subscribe to the philosophy that it’s better to do Something, even if it’s the Wrong Thing.<br /><br />That’s all very well and good, BUT sometimes it can put you in an even worse position than you were in before; maybe one that is murder-hard to put right, or even just to get back to where you were before doing the Wrong Thing in the first place. That’s where doing Nothing can sometimes actually be the best thing.<br /><br />Right now doing Nothing is giving me the space to not have to handle the inevitable consequences of doing Something, and if you know you can’t handle the consequences, and have the slack to hold back until you can, well doing Nothing can be the best thing to do<br /><br />Doing Nothing will still, therefore, change your life.<br /><br />It’s changing mine right now.<br /><br />Please, God, for the better.<br /><br />Kx {:o)Slurryoffagrapehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17616438111921039815noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1763631474682549917.post-50884414104449939282011-01-11T17:40:00.000+00:002012-04-20T15:24:23.109+01:00The lies we're told..........Ok, gonna try and write to this every day, but quite how to write anything worth the while, let alone reading, is quite another thing.<br />
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Mad Eddie from the States says I’ve gotta write something in a journal every day, so it might as well be on here as anywhere.<br />
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Ummmmm………….<br />
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Thinking……………..<br />
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Still thinking………… {:o*<br />
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Pete called in, and we’ve, yet again, been wondering how I can survive once I’ve plucked up the courage to tell ‘Them’ to stuff the job…… that’s the job that’s been driving me nuts for the last fifteen years.<br />
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Fifteen years.<br />
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Think about that.<br />
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Ok, never mind……. I will.<br />
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That’s at least how long this job has been having a serious effect on my mental state, and so my life here at home. Someone asked me recently why I didn’t leave years ago when I first knew it was screwing me up?<br />
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Well, the answer is, I didn’t know at any given moment in time that it was…….. not to the extent that it has. Each and every day was just a drip into the can that was tipping the scales against me. It was my job….. the only one I knew how to earn a living at, and it paid out every month for the privilege of doing exactly what it wanted to do to me. Each month I took that money, and allowed those in authority over me to do it all again for the next month, and the next, and the next………<br />
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It’s like a hypnosis, a paralysing hypnosis, where you believe, as I still do now, that you can do nothing against the hold it has on you. You have your bills to pay. You have the things that you like to do, and they all have to be paid for too. The Man wants your taxes to pay for the mechanisms to keep you in line…….. so you keep going.<br />
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You were brought up to believe that if you work hard, behave decently and are honest, you will be rewarded.<br />
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You will be regarded with integrity, and your efforts will be honoured above those who fall short of those standards.<br />
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The hypnosis that started as a child has you prisoner, as do the financial constrictions you willingly pull around you as you gather more and more of the moss of possessions all around you like a cloak.<br />
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Then you finally realise it was all a big lie.<br />
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You see bastards succeeding with deceit and betrayals, and you realise most of them are above you laughing all the way to the bank; comfortably doing less than you are to hold them up there above you. Telling their lies every day to comfortably pad their nests out even more.<br />
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You stand and tell the truths about whom they are and what they’re doing, and no one above you listens, even though they know you speak the truth, and you feel the injustice of it all.<br />
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You look around…… and they’re all at it, in every walk of life…….. those at the top, doing it to those under them, and it’s happening everywhere.<br />
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You despair.<br />
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You wish you’d seen this years ago when you were young and could’ve fought back.<br />
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You try and throw in the towel……… but it’s hard.<br />
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They keep paying you at the end of the month to carry on……. month after month after month, and the fear of not making it through a month without that financial carrot to chew on holds you like a quicksand.<br />
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How many lives….. good lives, have been sacrificed for the bad to succeed?Slurryoffagrapehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17616438111921039815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1763631474682549917.post-82224975546894810582010-11-01T10:13:00.008+00:002010-11-01T10:32:39.612+00:00Nanowrimo starts today............Hi y'all,<br />well <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Nanowrimo</span> starts today, and I'm doing all the writing avoidance things to not get going........... getting this damn laptop updated and working again after not using it all summer, being the main one.<br /><br />Sun's out, and I should be Out There........... got the guttering to clear for Gill today sometime, ........ she's my mate Restless Richard's Chick, and I'm sure it would be a Good Idea if I got my finger out and had a practice run up at the job by clearing my guttering, and fixing up all the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">bleddy</span> leaks in it, the biggest being the missing end cap.<br /><br />Can I be bothered though...... somehow it's always easier to do other peoples stuff........... you ever noticed that? Maybe that's because it's somehow more satisfying to help someone else. I dunno.<br /><br />Life is but a mystery, and I really should give up trying to figure it all out, don't you think? :o)<br /><br />Anyhow, anything with Richard is a right <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">bleddy</span> laugh, and in the event it will be more fun than I think clearing guttering can ever be.<br /><br />None of this is getting words out for my <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">Nanowrimo</span> though is it. Going to do a ghost story, methinks........ just for the fun of it........ like Lovely Bones, that film 'Ghost', and another book I read a while ago, the name of which escapes me.<br /><br />Right, I'm off to at least open Word, and save a document with the working book title at least. :o)Slurryoffagrapehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17616438111921039815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1763631474682549917.post-64595583259108647832010-09-22T10:22:00.008+01:002010-09-22T10:59:35.750+01:00On Trailer Matters............Hi there, my neglected blog-reader………<br /><br />Mind you, I doubt there is one who checks it out these days, since bugger-all gets loaded up on here from me lately. There is hope, though…….. Nanowrimo time is looming up on the horizon again, starting as it does every year on the first of November, and I’m going to try at least to write more often to this Blog by way of getting back into the writing groove again. I damn nearly said ‘every day’, but knowing how my best of intentions pretty much fall by the wayside these days, saved face by using the looser term, ‘more often’. Since once a month would technically fall under that umbrella of commitment, so that kinda guarantees some chance of fulfilling an evident promise of intent, yes?<br /><br />Sat in the garden today, having failed miserably to do what any man of strength would do, and follow last night’s resolve to get Out There and carry on with The Trailer. “The Trailer?”, I hear you ask yourself in awe of what this can mean. What wondrous flurry of activity has been missed during this spell of non-communication with my fellow man (and woman) out there in Blogland?<br /><br />Yup, as you suspected, I’m doing Great Works in the workshop, even though at a snail’s pace of a few hours here and there. I’ve had an old trailer of four foot wide by six foot long stuck away for something like sixteen years, and finally got around to getting it ‘done up’ to sell on ebay. It needed mudguards, tailboard with lights, number plate etc, tow-hitch, new tyres, and painting to make it sellable but, in The Thinking About It, I somehow decided to lengthen it, keep it and sell my old faithful trailer which I made about twenty-five years ago.<br /><br /><div><div><div></div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tJcwe_vCW5w/TJnLMqh5tkI/AAAAAAAAAPU/l9ZVTspdV4Y/s1600/Canon+August+2010003.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 158px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519666236754605634" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tJcwe_vCW5w/TJnLMqh5tkI/AAAAAAAAAPU/l9ZVTspdV4Y/s320/Canon+August+2010003.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div>The old one was a bit narrow at three-foot three inches, and could do with being longer than it’s seven-foot too (that’s too as in ‘too’, not ‘two’, ok?). So, with much enthusiasm…….. ok, SOME enthusiasm, …….. I set about this old trailer I was going to just tart up and sell, cut the tail section off and welded in a metre to extend it to its present length of nine foot-three inches. (I know I don’t need to tell you girls (who may still be reading this) how much difference three inches can make.) You can see that I struggle to go completely Metric, and so mix the old Imperial and new Metric measurements, which, believe me, can lead to some bleddy Great Mistakes in making things in the workshop. It was going to be just a fraction over eight foot, but I thought “What the hell, an extra foot could come in real handy.”, and so there it is; nine foot-three inches. </div><div><br /> </div><div></div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tJcwe_vCW5w/TJnQGQO2uGI/AAAAAAAAAPc/r-9JFdQ6YYg/s1600/Trailer+2+Rebuild+2-LOW-005.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 177px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519671624174319714" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tJcwe_vCW5w/TJnQGQO2uGI/AAAAAAAAAPc/r-9JFdQ6YYg/s320/Trailer+2+Rebuild+2-LOW-005.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div>As with most things in life, things aren’t as simple as you might think, and so it’s taking a while to get finished. For a start, the axle needs to be moved, or the thing will be tail-heavy, I want it to be easily as useful as the excellent smaller trailer so I’m strengthening it, welding on hooks all around the bottom, altering the tail-gate to be more user-friendly, adding a ladder-rack at the front, and am going to make provision to secure a big bike inside it, should the need arise.</div><div><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tJcwe_vCW5w/TJnQ2wJD1WI/AAAAAAAAAPk/a19FiwHr7K8/s1600/Trailer2+build+3-+4-F-BK.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 332px; HEIGHT: 233px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519672457373668706" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tJcwe_vCW5w/TJnQ2wJD1WI/AAAAAAAAAPk/a19FiwHr7K8/s320/Trailer2+build+3-+4-F-BK.jpg" /></a></div><div>Photo labeled before the bottom rail was replaced (See photo below)</div><div> </div><div> </div><div></div><div></div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tJcwe_vCW5w/TJnRxq3vVeI/AAAAAAAAAP0/w_2tm-K-FSo/s1600/Trailer2+build+3-+8-F-BK.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 337px; HEIGHT: 246px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519673469571126754" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tJcwe_vCW5w/TJnRxq3vVeI/AAAAAAAAAP0/w_2tm-K-FSo/s320/Trailer2+build+3-+8-F-BK.jpg" /></a><br /><div></div><div><br />Ok, that’s enough boring stuff for one day…….. I’ll bore you with some more another day, real soon(ish), and will get back to my book….. Duncan Bannatyne’s ‘Anyone Can Do It’. (I wish!) Lovely warm, sunny underpants-only day, and I’m using the justification for being sat on my ass in the sun, of it being the last warm day we’re likely to see now Autumn is pretty much here.<br /><br />Wherever you are…… hope it’s all going ok. If it isn’t, chin up…… tomorrow’s another day. :o)</div></div></div>Slurryoffagrapehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17616438111921039815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1763631474682549917.post-64230143777062908822010-07-31T12:57:00.003+01:002010-07-31T14:05:05.449+01:00Something, instead of Nothing........... :o)Not much going on right now……. Hasn’t been for a while.<br /><br />Just thought I’d say Something rather than Nothing, but I guess there’s not a lot of difference between the two which means I might as well not bother, but I am, so that’s Something I guess.<br /><br />So here’s to Something.<br /><br />Wrote to my buddy mad Eddie in the States today……… well, last night too actually. Today was in response to him answering right away. He’s been on a downer lately and the once long,-deep-and-regular emails have dropped off for a while now. Mainly my fault I guess; plodding and struggling through life’s thick mud as I’ve been doing for a while now kinda leads me to ‘not bothering’ with a load of things I really should be bothering with.<br /><br />‘Not bothering’ is kinda misleading though……… it smacks of those things ‘not bothered’ with being unimportant to me. Couldn’t be further from the truth really. Depression kills your life. Kills everything within shouting distance of it too. Kills friendships. Kills passions. Kills your job. Even kills your doctor’s patience too, if you refuse the mind-and-dick-debilitating medication which fails to cheer-up seventy percent of those who swallow it.<br /><br />Kills the fucking lot really.<br /><br />Mine’s from my job, and it’s not bad enough to have me curled up in a ball, but it’s bad enough that I can’t be bothered, unless I have to on someone else’s behalf. Work mostly. Which keeps me topped up nicely, thanks.<br /><br />It’s the bullshit that's increasing in a way that would’ve been unimaginable a few years ago. Actually, it’s still bleddy unimaginable. These son’bitch weenies, all sat in their cosy offices are pissing on us all down here. As if we didn’t have enough of it to clear up as it is. I am often overwhelmed with their ingenuity, and ability to treat the ridiculous as entirely reasonable and practicable.<br /><br />Anyway……… enough. I’m on a day off, and if I don’t watch it I’ll spend it walking around here having a bleddy good row with the buggers.<br /><br />So, there’s Something, instead of Nothing.<br /><br />Now, I’m off to do Nothing.<br /><br />Y’all have a good day doing Something.<br /><br />Or Nothing.<br /><br />Either way, don't feel bad doing it, ok? :o)<br /><br />Kxxx :o)Slurryoffagrapehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17616438111921039815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1763631474682549917.post-39307075296607841552010-03-03T20:51:00.003+00:002010-03-03T21:32:33.340+00:00Sadly neglected.............It’s the only way to describe my poor old blog.<br /><br />Sorry Blog, but I’ve been distracted of late, and would make with a stinging nettles and the flogging, but there is a dearth of them, being in the midst of winter such as we are. Be assured, though, that I will rectify the matter with the oncoming of Spring, and meanwhile will make every attempt to write to you far more often.<br /><br />Trouble is……. writing long emails as lately has taken some steam from the boiler.<br /><br />I was hoping the muse would kick min if Io started some mindless rambling, but so far not much is going on………. Half watching a film doesn’t help a whole lot I guess. It’s “Becoming Jane”……… about Jane Austen before she was a successful writer……. I turned over to it at random from a crappy cooking contest program…….. one of the plethora that cascades from the telly these days by way of national entertainment.<br /><br />Anyway……. it’s a good film, and it sure highlights the lot of women back in those days. Having an opinion about anything was considered such a wrong. Even to an Old Chauvinist Greaser like me it defies belief. I’m frequently in despair of what this country is turning into, but when you really think of the reality that we’ve left behind from the ‘good old days’, well, there was a lot wrong, for sure-certain. You either had, or you had not……… boy do we ever have it easy these days.<br /><br />What is a real pity is why the things that were good had to be sacrificed and squandered so completely to make way for the things that were so wrong to be put right…….. if you see what I mean.<br /><br />Why is that?<br /><br />Maybe it’s the momentum of a ‘pendulum’ in all things, in that it has to swing to and fro and only settles on the middle when the energy to push it ceases to be.<br /><br />The nature of a pendulum being what it is, though……….. sitting in a rested middle means it ceases to be a pendulum, and just becomes a useless weight.<br /><br />I guess it just has to swing, at whatever price.<br /><br />Nite,K.x :o)Slurryoffagrapehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17616438111921039815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1763631474682549917.post-70481362469638700722009-10-25T15:29:00.006+00:002009-10-25T15:46:56.492+00:00Women make it complicated......... (but it's kinda ok.) :o)<span style="color:#cc33cc;">I wrote this a while ago………. Took it out of an email I was writing at the time, and made it stand up on it’s own. Go on……… tell me I’m wrong. :o)</span><br /><br /><em><strong>Women make it complicated</strong></em><br /><br />That's the one thing that worries me about getting the love of my life.......... women have a gift for making things real complicated......... for example, you fancy something to eat, and they start insisting you heat your beans in a saucepan, transfer them to a clean plate, add lettuce, cabbage, cucumber and stuff like that, and lord knows what else. Most of it has to be bloody opened / peeled / washed/ cracked / prised / sliced / diced / grated / mashed / tossed / whipped / stirred / folded / buttered / oiled/ fried/ boiled/ blanched/ grilled and heated in many other weird ways, and in several other saucepans, casserole dishes, you-name-it, too.<br /><br />Then you gotta make up some gravy / sauces / dressings and things called ‘garnishes’; I ask you, what’s a bleddy garnish? All this makes a helluva mess, and so then you’ve gotta wipe up all the clutter, clean the damn chopping board(s) (just the one will never do!), and all the stuff you used to mutilate, sorry ‘prepare’ the food.<br /><br />Even though you’ve been up to your elbows in soap and water for half the day, you have to wash your hands for the tenth time, get out knives / forks / spoons / chopsticks and other things you never knew existed before you met her, and lay the damn table, using a nice white Irish linen cloth. That’s the one that has to be washed every time you as much as look at it, and not to mention ironed as well afterwards.<br /><br />I mean…… IRONING a table cloth??? Jees!<br /><br />Then, because it’s now fast becoming a ‘romantic’ meal, when you thought it was just ‘fancy something to eat’ you gotta turn the telly off, find the candles, fix them in the holder, and light the soddin' things. Bugger, burnt your fingers. Now you gotta run your hand under the cold tap, and suffer the indignity of being told you're “such a baby” into the bargain, and not to make a fuss 'cos it can't hurt THAT much, (It bleddy well DID!) as she holds your hand under the tap with all the grip of a hairy-assed Sumo wrestler. Strength mysteriously absent when she didn't have the strength to carry the four-tons of shopping she made you bloody buy yesterday, and on your day off too.<br /><br />Then you gotta dry your hand in a clean towel, get told off for getting garage grease and stuff under your nails, then get a real bollicking for being vulgar, when you nuzzle up close to her scented long neck and suggest to her that dipping them in some fresh, warm, Pussy Juice would get it off it real easy. Her sensitivity is pretty rich considering she spent half of last night with her legs over your shoulders, shouting “FUCK ME!! FUCK ME!!” to the neighbours.<br /><br />There were you, thinking that it was what you were doing all along, surprised and dismayed that she hadn't noticed you were doing your bloody best! She shouted “DON’T STOP, DON’T STOP!”, so you’d tried to get a few more revs up, without falling out and missing a stroke, despite the cramp in your left calf and splitting a couple of toenails scrabbling for some grip with the other leg on the damn slippery black silk sheets. The ones she suggestively mentioned would be soooo sexy. The ones you knew bloody well were going to be trouble the second you looked at the price tag, as you coolly flourished the plastic to impress her with your New Man Spares No Expense style.<br /><br />Anyway, by the time she's got the Burneeze cream out, and struggled with the plasters that won't stick because of the overzealous application of the cream plastered on your fingers, everything has gone all to pot, quite literally. The gravy's gone all weird, the stuff you opened / peeled / washed/ cracked / prised / sliced / diced / grated / mashed / tossed / whipped / stirred / folded / buttered / oiled/ fried/ boiled/ blanched/ grilled and heated in many other weird ways, and in several other saucepans/ casserole dishes/ you-name-it, has gone all to hell too, and the candles have dripped wax all over the bloody Irish linen white thing you'd been forced to spread on the table.<br /><br />She’s started to knock up something else, to replace the burnt stuff, and for sure-certain you can feel a good few more laps of kitchen-based domesticity coming up. You resign yourself, and start to scrape the burnt pans, after being told not to "just-stand-there-looking-at-it-if-you-hadn't-made-all-that-fuss-and-been-more-careful-in-the-first-place-it-wouldn't-have-burnt". Your helpful suggestion that maybe if you could “sort-of-just-stir-it-all-together-and-see-what-it-tastes-like, babe”, meets with a disgusted “Don’t be stupid; you can’t do that!”.<br /><br />“Actually you can”, you think to yourself, but know full well that such thoughts won’t overwhelm her powerful Girl-Logic software systems, and so you strategically keep the thought secreted well away from the Brain-to-Mouth short circuit, that has dropped you right in it so often before.<br />At long last, after a repeat of the whole performance, you finally sit down to eat. You find yourself thinking “What a bleddy price to pay for a regular shag”, and just in time shut the thought down in blind panic, only too aware of her sensitive telepathic and intuitive skills. The ones have seen right into your thoughts so many times in the past. HOW does she do that?<br />Then there’s trying to see what you're doing in the soft, dimpsy candlelight, whilst attempting to look into her eyes romantically, and not spoil it by being a wuss, and wincing at the pain of the damn fork pressing into your burnt fingers. When you see how she is looking back at you, you realise, with the fixed grin that you desperately try to warm up, that lovemaking that night is going to call on every ounce of proficiency you have at your disposal.<br /><br />Too late, she’s triggered your simple and hair-triggered Primary Man Circuits. The Member for Bathpool is stirring, albeit pretty half heartedly like mortally wounded old soldier making one last effort to rise up and salute the distant call of the Bugle; loyal to a fault, and willing to fling himself into the breech one last time for Honour and Valour. You find yourself wishing, not for the first time, that you’d avoided introducing the Ferret again that morning, close thing though it was, after climbing aboard twice last night. Doesn’t she realise the damn Well isn’t bottomless? “Not really” is the obvious answer, by that look of “You’re going to be a Lucky Boy tonight!” in her Make-Sure-He-Notices furtive glances at you.<br /><br />Then she goes and reaches up and does that thing with her hair. The thing she does without knowing how it leaves you helpless, and at her mercy every single time. With an inward sigh of contented resignation you smile at her, knowing she’s always going to have her way without even trying.<br /><br />Still, you remembered dreaming of one day meeting a gorgeous nymphomaniac just like her, but sometimes realise it’s resulted in life being much more complicated, and an awfully long way off the simple life you once enjoyed. For instance; Getting up out of the armchair when the adverts start, opening a tin of beans, shoving a spoon into the tin, and back to sit down again before the film kicks in again.<br /><br />Food.<br /><br />Done in a jiffy,………..and if you lick the spoon clean, absolutely no washing up.<br /><br />Simple.<br /><br />Quick.<br /><br />No Wucking Forries! :-)<br /><br />© Kevin Udy.Slurryoffagrapehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17616438111921039815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1763631474682549917.post-9072389528010129492009-10-06T15:07:00.004+01:002009-10-06T15:14:53.493+01:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tJcwe_vCW5w/SstPW8EeAXI/AAAAAAAAAOc/1rdduYle9W8/s1600-h/Comfort+Curve+2000.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389488634579517810" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tJcwe_vCW5w/SstPW8EeAXI/AAAAAAAAAOc/1rdduYle9W8/s320/Comfort+Curve+2000.jpg" /></a><br /><div></div><div></div><div>Have just received my new Microsoft keyboard from Amazon, a bargain at £11.95 inc vat and p&p, and bought to help with the Nanowrimo thing. The laptop and the board it sits on (to keep cooling vents free and unblocked) weighs a bit heavy on the old knees after a few hours, so just having the keyboard alone on my lap helps a lot. It’s a wired USB keyboard…… maybe I should’ve got a wireless one. Maybe I will, and use this one on the computer upstairs. Maybe. :o) </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><em><span style="color:#ff6600;">Microsoft Comfort Curve Keyboard 2000</span></em></div><div><a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/exec/obidos/ASIN/B000B9OIIU/ref=ox_ya_oh_product">http://www.amazon.co.uk/exec/obidos/ASIN/B000B9OIIU/ref=ox_ya_oh_product</a><br /><br />This is an ergonomic keyboard, in as much as the keys are curved at something like six degrees upwards each side, and although I only type with two fingers…….. despite my intentions to learn to touch-type……… it’s surprising how you find yourself hitting the wrong keys when they’re arranged and spaced even only a little differently. The slightly more comfortable position for the hands to sit over the ‘home keys’ night make the touch-typing a bit easier I guess, so I should persevere with the practice lessons I guess.<br /><br />Not a whole lot happening here at Fortress Wheelrest. I’ve been practising on the model plane flight training software, and am a lot better than I was to start with. I can take off and land ok now, turn, level out, swap left for right when the plane is coming back towards me again, which is the big thing that’s hard to grasp without too much ‘thinking’ whilst the plane goes straight into the ground. I can loop fly upside down ok(ish), throw it about, doing some aerobatics, and recover straight and level afterwards, but the intuitive and instinctive stick movements are a looooong way off as good as they need to be. It still goes into the ‘virtual’ ground fairly regularly. This flying training software has already paid for itself in saved crashed to get me as good as I am so far.<br /><br />Ok, that’s it for today……… not worth the reading really, but since no-one's reading it, (unless the visitor counter's faulty), ………who cares? :o)<br />K.x :o) </div>Slurryoffagrapehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17616438111921039815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1763631474682549917.post-72189109373487339862009-09-30T00:56:00.010+01:002009-09-30T01:29:14.713+01:00On buying cheer-up stuff, and new hobbies....................:o)Hi Y’all,<br />I’ve kinda fallen off the blogging for about a week now…….. had some crap from work that put me in a dive, and took the wind out of my sails a good bit. Pile-of-shit job dominated by weenies. Not that it’s by any means unique in that description these days; I guess a good few of you could say the same thing, so Enough Said.<br /><br />The result has been no writing. Stopped dead in it’s tracks.<br /><br />In an attempt to drag myself back up to some altitude, I’ve been doing The Usual and been throwing money I can't afford at buying stuff I don't really need, to cheer me up. In effect, buying cheer-up presents for moi, ..............and y’all will know by now that I LOVE presents! :o)<br /><br />I do it all the time, even though I know it only achieves a few things……… none of which were the primary aim………..<br />1) Blows a lot of (very) hard-earned cash<br />2) Clutters this place up even more than it already is.<br />3) Cheeses me off even more when I have to face up to what it’s cost to be ‘lifted’ for such a short time.<br />4) Often breeds a New Hobby, which adds to the pressure to enjoy yet another one I don’t have the energy or time for.<br /><br />I wonder how many, or rather, how ‘few’ men do this? I say ‘men’ because have a feeling the ‘few’ are mostly men. I work with women, have done for something like 37 years, and find that very few have ‘hobbies’. Many read, probably more than men do, but few have any other interests. Not many have the traditional interests of sewing and knitting, few draw or paint, and certainly those that indulge in the traditionally ‘male’ stomping grounds are like hen’s teeth. Bleddy rare.<br /><br />So, as far as I can tell, it’s mostly men who have hobbies, and they tend to have one or two that they stick to. How many gather them up like swept leaves like I do, and keep them all, ready and waiting to be dipped into? I have what I call Option Paralysis …………. Having so many options, that the effect is to be spread too thinly and so not really doing or enjoying any of them, but at the same time feeling the pressure that having invested in them all, I SHOULD be doing them.<br /><br />Part of it is definitely a cheer-up strategy, and that I think comes from spending so much time alone, and in particular having no woman………. a ‘hobby’ that supersedes all others, cheers like no other, and somehow has the catalytic effect on me of inspiring me to be more active and finding the energy to do all these hobbies. A Woman is a very special thing to have in your life, but she sure does have to be the right sort of woman.<br /><br />Quite a few aren’t content until their man is well and truly in harness, and pulling for all he’s worth too. That suits many, and I’m the last to say it’s always a bad thing, but it is for me, that’s all. It’s why I’m alone……… I won’t settle with someone who is wrong for me, and not just for my own sake either. If she’s a mismatch for me, then it follows that I’m a bad blend of man for her. Depending on who compromises the most, or if neither do, it’s a rough ride, and a waste of two lives.<br /><br />If that sounds like I’m a selfish pig you’ve read it wrong. Read it again, and think about it.<br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tJcwe_vCW5w/SsKfzqFh8yI/AAAAAAAAAN0/qFiuggBX8k0/s1600-h/HZ+Super+Cub+1.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387043814108164898" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tJcwe_vCW5w/SsKfzqFh8yI/AAAAAAAAAN0/qFiuggBX8k0/s320/HZ+Super+Cub+1.jpg" /></a><br />So, throwing money at stuff, and a new hobby. I was already blowing a small fortune on writing books to keep myself enthused about the Nanowrimo writing marathon in November, ( <a href="http://www.nanowrimo.org/">http://www.nanowrimo.org/</a> ), then No-Problem-Pete got interested in buying a Radio Controlled (RC) Model Aeroplane. A Hobby Zone Super Cub, to be more precise.<br /><br />Oh dear.<br /><div><div><div><div>Some of you will know what's coming..................<br /><br />Cut a long story short, he bought one…….. actually he bought two on Ebay, kinda accidentally. He’d bid on two to make sure he got one, but unfortunately that strategy backfired, and he wound up with both of them. Both were brand new, and are ‘electric, powered by a battery electric motor instead of the nitro engines, which is pretty much the same as a petrol engine. Of the two he bought on Ebay, one has an uprated, higher voltage battery pack, and so a bit more powerful, which was the one he got flying with.<br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tJcwe_vCW5w/SsKgNwwZ0KI/AAAAAAAAAN8/4FbOfoxz3Fs/s1600-h/HZ+Super+Cub+2.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387044262575198370" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tJcwe_vCW5w/SsKgNwwZ0KI/AAAAAAAAAN8/4FbOfoxz3Fs/s320/HZ+Super+Cub+2.jpg" /></a><br />He was doing very well, until a big crash the forth time out, when the radio control lost all contact due to interference from another source somewhere nearby. It went over on it’s back, and dived smack into the ground, breaking in half just ahead of the tail and also breaking up the battery compartment and the nose cone. It’s all been all glued up, some parts replaced, and is ready to fly again, so all is not lost.<br /></div><br /><div>I had a go with it for a couple of minutes on it’s first flight, and was absolutely bleddy useless, so I’ve bought a Mode 2 (Most comon control configuration in the UK) £20 flight training simulator for the computer, called RC Plane Master by Reality Craft. </div><div> </div><div><a href="http://www.marionvillemodels.com/computer-simulators/RealityCraft-RC-Planemaster-Flight-Simulator/product.aspx">http://www.marionvillemodels.com/computer-simulators/RealityCraft-RC-Planemaster-Flight-Simulator/product.aspx</a> </div><div><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tJcwe_vCW5w/SsKk-kGreUI/AAAAAAAAAOU/5iIkEI9DZqA/s1600-h/RC+Plane+Master.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387049499039070530" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tJcwe_vCW5w/SsKk-kGreUI/AAAAAAAAAOU/5iIkEI9DZqA/s320/RC+Plane+Master.jpg" /></a>It comes complete with a control box that is exactly the same as the control boxes used in flying these model planes, and so I will be able to get some ‘stick time’ in before flying for real. That way, I’ll hopefully gain some reactive skills without smashing up the relatively expensive plane.<br /><br />Oh yes, …………. you guessed, didn’t you?<br /></div><div>I bought the other plane off N-P-Pete, and also ordered a ‘Disaster Crash Pack’ of spares too (because the inevitable will definitely happen). It includes all the major parts likely to be damaged in a crash, apart from the complete fuselage……… and some glue, and a spare battery pack so I can get more flying in whilst the battery is being recharged.<br /><br />Here’s a YouTube vid of one flying, and flown by someone who’s pretty good at it too.<br />Believe me, it’s far from easy!<br /><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TeB3sP-rVYQ&feature=related">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TeB3sP-rVYQ&feature=related</a><br /><br />There’s quite a few vids on these things flying, and some with on board video cameras, which look brilliant. You can fit floats in place of the wheels to take off and land on water, and even skis for snow.<br /><br />So, another hobby which I need like a hole in the head. (Some would say that would be a good idea, actually) Well, actually, not quite a ‘new’ hobby, but one I’d got into a bit a good few years ago now, when I bought a Precedent Hi Boy petrol engine kit RC trainer plane. I part built the fuselage, fizzled out, and it’s still hanging in the lounge from one of the beams in the ceiling. Much inspired again, I’ll learn on the spanking new Super Cub, and then get the Hi Boy finished, and converted to ‘electric’, and fly it at long last. </div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tJcwe_vCW5w/SsKhw2wcYxI/AAAAAAAAAOM/OQrthRG8WKQ/s1600-h/hiboy1.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 210px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387045964993028882" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tJcwe_vCW5w/SsKhw2wcYxI/AAAAAAAAAOM/OQrthRG8WKQ/s320/hiboy1.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div></div><br /><div>Why electric? Well the internal combustion (IC) engines are very noisy, and so there are fewer places you can fly them, whereas electric powered planes are far quieter, even the ‘noisy’ ones. IC engines tend to be messier, and more troublesome at times too, or so I’m told anyway. Modern electronics, motors and batteries have made electric far more powerful than the previous components were, and so electric is now a viable option compared to some years ago when I first bought the Precedent Hi Boy. It’s a heavy plane though, so I need to learn a lot to be able to choose a suitable electric motor and battery set-up for it.<br /><br />Hand’s up who’s bored half to death by now?<br /><br />My apologies. :oI<br /><br />Well, it’s nearly one-thirty in the morning, and I should be in the sack.<br /><br />Nite nite y’all.<br />K.x :o) (Just a reminder……….. the ‘x’ is exclusively for you chicks who might be reading this!) :o) </div></div></div></div>Slurryoffagrapehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17616438111921039815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1763631474682549917.post-32140155419999335242009-09-22T12:28:00.002+01:002009-09-22T20:23:54.677+01:00Word-count practice month is up today.........<strong><em><span style="color:#ff0000;">Word count is 6,162 over target. :o)</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="color:#ff0000;"></span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="color:#ff0000;">Total.......56,162</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="color:#ff0000;"></span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="color:#ff0000;">Will start all over again with a new practice word-count month tomorrow...........</span></em></strong><br /><strong><em><span style="color:#ff0000;">K.x :o)</span></em></strong>Slurryoffagrapehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17616438111921039815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1763631474682549917.post-32047778528404570082009-09-22T09:05:00.004+01:002009-09-22T09:22:52.419+01:00Laugh-out-loud books........... and one in particular. :o)Hi Y’all,<br />I’ve been reading a rare book, ….. One that really made me laugh right out loud.<br /><br />A lot of books have reviews by people who describe how a book had them ‘laughing out aloud’, and quite often by People Of Note, sometimes on behalf of Publications Of Note,. Sometimes the book was so funny, evidently, that such an open display of humour was unavoidable in public.<br /><br />Well, that’s as may be, and far from it for me to doubt the truth of the reviewer, but quite honestly I find few books really are that funny. Most are quite funny, but those that really make you do more than chortle, smile, or interrupt the natural breathing rhythm to shove out a reverse sniff from the nostrils are quite rare. Maybe it’s just me who finds that, but I suspect not.<br /><br />The book which has had me laughing aloud, and to the point of moist eyes a few times, is Rich Hall’s ‘I Blame Society’<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tJcwe_vCW5w/SriIGBZZl1I/AAAAAAAAANs/XB5fwwOETWQ/s1600-h/I+Blame+Society.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384202991556990802" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tJcwe_vCW5w/SriIGBZZl1I/AAAAAAAAANs/XB5fwwOETWQ/s320/I+Blame+Society.jpg" /></a><br /><br />To some extent I think it was helped by my having his ‘voice’ in my head pretty much all the time I was reading it. Made all the easier because it’s written in a dialect which kinda makes it hard not to ‘hear’ him in your mind, and that dry way he has of telling a yarn, assuming you’ve seen his stand-up performances, and/or other appearances on TV. I’ve recently seen him on our British comedy quiz show, ‘QI’, hosted by the amazing Stephen Fry, so that may well have been the reason his voice was speaking to me.<br /><br />It didn’t have me laughing all the time by any means, and certainly not aloud every time I did laugh, but I couldn’t go very far without something funny hitting home. The other day, (the pebble collecting day), I sat on the beach and absolutely howled with laughter a good few times. I rocked back and lay there laughing for a minute, dried my eyes and sat up to read the same bit again, only to burst out laughing and repeat the performance.<br /><br />It was a pretty empty beach. Just as well. Undignified behaviour for an Old Greaser.<br /><br />Now, before you get the impression that I’m claiming this to be a great work of literature, I’m not. Partly because it isn’t in ‘classic’ terms, but also because I wouldn’t exactly be qualified to make such a judgement. To be honest, I hold a personal view that a great work of literature could be anything that intensely amuses the reader, is especially fluid and easy to read, and fills your head with what was intended by the author. Still, that’s not the point………. I’m not qualified to judge, that being generally the preserve of the finely educated.<br /><br />Anyway…….. to quote Amazon’s synopsis:-<br /><br /><em>‘Married six times, all to women named Brenda, Otis Lee Crenshaw's bourbon-fuelled odyssey takes him from the high mountains of East Tennessee to the bottom of the music charts. A man not above faking his own death to sell more records, this is his not quite true story of romance, recidivism, country music, and an unshakable belief in Marriage at First Sight.’<br /></em><br />Ok, so that’s generally the gist of the book, but in amongst it all are some wisdoms, and here is where I wished I’d noted the page numbers where I read them, but I didn’t, so you’ll just have to take my word for it. You will probably have to be the sort of person who ‘thinks’ a lot about life, has been hammered by it at times (and who hasn’t, bar the very fortunate?….. Or perhaps less fortunate, I guess.), and can think a bit sideways at times too.<br />There was one morsel that tickled me, and I had been dying to try it out on someone since I read it……….. I was at work yesterday, and got my chance. Someone (We’ll call her Cheryl, shall we?) was going on about something or another, bless her. Some detail of out working day that was to be set in concrete as it tends to be these days. There were a few staff around to be amused by my great wit, and so I took a risk……….<br /><br />“So, I’ve moved all the furniture around and it should be better for you all now”<br /><br />“Cheryl, do you hear that?”<br /><br />“What, I don’t hear anything?”<br /><br />“Exactly, Cheryl, because that’s the sound of nobody giving a shit”<br /><br />Everybody laughed, mainly because I was laughing my head off, and I <em>JUST</em> got away with it. It was a real close thing, because ‘Cheryl’ is Quite an Important Person, and knew she shouldn’t really be seen to see the funny side of it. It was ok because she knew it wasn’t meant spitefully, and I was just getting a laugh out of it.<br /><br />Getting away with it. My biggest kick since I was born. :o)<br /><br />Not so great when I come a cropper though, but isn’t that the measure of how good something feels………….. how bad the downside is. How dark the flip-side of the coin.<br /><br />Sorry, rambling away.<br /><br />Maybe I’ve read this at just the right time, in just the right mood, and so it floated my boat, I dunno. I read another of his books, called ‘Things Snowball’ a while ago, and can’t remember clearly, but don’t think it had me laughing as much as this one did. I must have a look for it, and read it again. Different things ‘fit’ us at different stages of our lives.<br /><br />I’ve actually gone and rummaged around for ‘Things Snowball’, found it after ages wandering around my books, muttering, “I bleddy <em>KNOW</em> it’s here somewhere”, but not being able to see it anywhere. You know when you can ‘see’ where it is in your mind’s eye, but when you look there, it’s ‘gone’.<br /><br />I suddenly found inspiration, and went delving into The Big Box, so called because it’s a real big box, yanking all the books out, finding it wasn’t there, and then and not being able to pack the same number of books back in again. There’s a lesson to be learnt there, and one I’ve learnt and seemingly repeatedly forgotten; never be too efficient in your box-packing/storing/tidying, because if you don’t leave some slack, you’ll never do such a good job when you go and take something out, and so The Untidiness will start all over again.<br /><br />Always leave some slack in your efficiency!<br /><br />In the end, after looking absolutely <em>EVERYWHERE</em>, I found it two books down from the top of the stack on the floor by the bedside cabinet. I <em>KNEW</em> I’d see the bleddy thing recently!<br /><br />You know what it’s like when you find a book, especially one you’ve driven yourself to the edge of what sanity you have left, and believe me I can scarce afford to go anywhere near that precipice; you just have to start skimming though, and reading at least bits of it, don’t you? I ended up reading a few chapters ……… and, sure enough, ………… nope, nothing like as funny.<br /><br />Funny, but not laugh-out-loud funny, as the reviewer on the back cover from The Scotsman claimed. Still we all find different humour funny, and so maybe these reviews, including my opinion here, aren’t worth reading. You just have to suck it and see. (Stop it!)<br /><br />So, as per the usual, I guess I’m wasting everybody’s time here today.<br /><br />Sorry (sigh) :oI<br /><br />Ok, that’s enough…….. it was just going to be a few lines.<br /><br />Y'all know how it is.........<br />K.x :o)Slurryoffagrapehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17616438111921039815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1763631474682549917.post-5950541466334180642009-09-20T23:22:00.001+01:002009-09-20T23:24:06.656+01:00Remember 'J' and 'R'........... and 'S and 'A', ........please.Remember my good friend, ‘J’, whose husband ‘R’ is critically ill with Cancer?<br /><br />If you do, how about stopping still for a minute, and sending a few positive and good thoughts Out There to them both in their living hell. Please, ……………it doesn’t take long. If you don’t remember them, scroll down to the blog I wrote here on 15 September. ............ Then send out those thoughts.<br /><br />And for S too, who’s having to do the hardest thing and have her beloved horse, ‘A’ put down this coming Friday.<br /><br />Spare some thoughts for both ‘S’ and ‘A’ too will you, and especially on Friday.<br /><br />I think these thoughts, and prayers if you pray, carry more weight than we can ever know.<br /><br />Thankyou<br />K.xxx :o)Slurryoffagrapehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17616438111921039815noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1763631474682549917.post-55044767166190644082009-09-20T11:29:00.003+01:002009-09-20T23:39:00.346+01:00Word count to date.......<strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">52,727 word total reached today.</span></strong>Slurryoffagrapehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17616438111921039815noreply@blogger.com0