The days of the cat

Have to record this... by all accounts, the G Boy got an extremely good one over on his enemy Foul Ginger yesterday. He spotted it sat on the top of a garage on it's territorial side of the road with only one way down, wandered over and sat down, glared at him and stayed. Only the one way down now, through the loving claws of my cat and the jump was enough that the Ginger would have have to spend half a second or so resetting himself, during which time any self respecting black tom would be on him like a rash... the Ginge' was effectively trapped. Eventually, he made him cry. Of course, I'm a nasty bastard for grinning at that but Ginge' is much bigger and more aggressive than my lad and has no qualms about his own territorial infringements and attacks so I don't feel too bad about it. Eventually, the sounds of cats fighting could be heard in the street and from the look of my lad's swagger and the fact that he's not missing any fur, I'd take it that he won.

So, the foolishness continues. Since I last posted, I've taken and returned a hire car (rather funky 58 reg Focus), been to Wales, Bristol, Ipswich, back up here, over to Liverpool, back here, Stamford and back - an insane and wallet draining route of approx 1158 miles - and in the process seen a wedding blessing, picked up a Hobbit and an Engine, the latter of which is sitting in my drive like a big heavy metal thing waiting for the attention of all round mechanical dude Baz to make it into something good. I still haven't got a car of my own, and getting to the fun factory is both a hassle and a drain on resources. When can I make some headway against this chaos?

Kinky?

Does putting orange juice on your breakfast cereal constitute one of your five a day?

Hope so. Phwoar.

A rapid entry today, as I have to rush about in a minute and find paperwork for the car hire people that establish my identity, which is a bit of a bugger as I'm most prudent about data security, as I'm told I should be, and shred everything as soon as it's served it's purpose. Hey ho. A tight couple of days here in the FoS, and somewhat stressy... been attempting to source a cheap bangabout to get me mobile in lieu of GLCdeceased, and who'd have thought it was so complex? Motors aplenty, but all in places thirty miles away; getting to view them is not so shimples(chirp). And with the most logistically complex weekend in months coming up...

On top of that, appalling news on the restoration to flight status of the MileEater has upped the stress ante in a most depressing way. Actually heard the beast run with my own ears on Wednesday, and a wonderful sound it was to. Smoking like a scouser, but that's to be expected with the amount of oil that was dumped in the pipes when the cylinder originally went bang. Baz was just setting up to balance the carbs, then reassemble when... contamination in the oil. A water leak somewhere, and it's not the water pump which would have been easy. No indeed. It's back to square one, and engine out.

Joy. At the eleventh hour and thirty minutes too, that was a bit heartbreaking for all concerned to say the least. But we're manly men here (except Mrs Baz who isn't); we pick ourselves up, we say "let's regroup" and the morning after, a new plan is hatched, which is why next week I'm picking up my newly bought second hand engine and we're dropping it in, so I can at least get SOME road this year while we analyse the problem in the rebuild and refit it during the winter.

Anyway, all in all motor hassles have added to the existing hassles and made this week quite an unpleasant place, and work has seemed a bit of a sanctuary; but by the end of yesterday's late shift, I was feeling more than a little strung out so Dave the Dave was good enough to drop me at the small pub on the corner, where a combination of "cheap beer night", chat, a decent tape on the box and eventually some rabid cider loosened up what needed loosening, and I feel much better today, thank you.

Work, work, work, let me go

Humm. Seems a little...

Yeah. Right.

Hmmmm.

Got the early shift on the science van, not an onerous duty and we've found ways to make it not quite so dull including insulting the blokes that are working on the permanent equipment that will make the vans obselete and I can save the world from a deck chair in the summer instead of a bench seat. Got a lift back to the Fortress of Solitude courtesy of Dave the Dave, and prepared to walk into town to do the shopping, collect the new prescription shades from the speccy shop; then tackle the loft; the spare room; reading up on the stuff I've got to go into work early for tomorrow and that's about as far as it got. Seem to have hit a wall. The chute is packed too tight with jobs, nothing's moving, I've still not had a real break since September and now I've got to arrange quality mobility.

Cheered myself up by mocking a sickleave bound colleague by text, and taking Mater's reccomendation to watch last week's Question Time from this locality; the ever popular blood sport of grilling politico's who've just been caught out on the expenses malarky by exposing them to some of the most uneducated and bitter electorate in the country - specifically, the ones from this postcode district. Heheheh. Was amused to spot a uncredited appearance by our local Conservative canditate giving Margaret Horseface some hell... wonder what she'll say when she sees the new honourable member from CodTown wander into the ladies bogs at the Commons next time around. Don't think the sitting member for this shithole has endeared himself with his freespending claims and gin habit. Ho ho.

Mind you, not that I can say I'm that happy about her latest campaign notice coming through the letterbox this week... new slogan, "Victoria is listening". Bit Orwellian, I think. Does this mean she's going to be up a ladder at my window with a notepad in the middle of the night? Hope so. Phwoar.

Carma out

And so it came to pass that the Goldie Lookin' Car was tweaked into life a few more times as shift working with no wheels is damned nigh impossible. And the man of government service once more poured two gallons of water into it's cooling system, more leaky than an official doccument marked "confidential" and set off for home in the early evening.

And lo, going around a roundabout on the industrial estate, the engine did expire and not start again. And the man of government service did sit, and sit, and sit, and sit waiting for the AA to get their arse into gear, and he was sore annoyed. And the Man who Can did arrive three hours late, take a quick look at the engine and saw that it was (not) good, "lo, see how the camchain is knackered, thy car shalt move no more under it's own steam, guvnor".

And the man of government service did frown, and mutter "bollocks".

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So that's it folks, for the GLC.
Not as much of a dog as Christine the Hellbound Honda, but in it's own special way a hound. Unexplained engine cutouts, cooling hassles abounded, and Christine's cab was a nicer place to be. But leggier than Christine, which was always useful, even if it's looks were less "faded showgirl" than "faded docker's 16 stone missus"; and a decent responsive engine for distance, when it wasn't cutting out at the lights. Rest in pieces.

Now, has anybody got a spare car I can borrow?

A good day

The first time since August 2007 that the Mile Eater; the Kwakker; the big beast has run it's engine, and the first time the engine has run at all since it's total rebuild, courtesy of Baz the Bike. I wasn't there, work getting in the way as usual but it sounded good by phone. Hobbit says that it sounds like a barking monster. This is a good thing. It's supposed to. My ego is placated. Can't wait to hear it in the flesh, as it were.

Because the bad news is, it's offline for a few more days. Faulty oil cooler. This is what happens when you go for breakers yard parts to reduce costs. Hey ho. Not to worry. The beast shall rise again.

Walking in the rain

Still smells better in Suffolk.

But it's not so bad up here; got caught in a summer shower on foot on the way to el pubbo yesterday eve. Far from the worst thing in the world. The simple pleasures, eh?

Not quite up with it in the pleasure stakes though. The bike is still up on blocks; was hoping for noise by the weekend, but not to be. Will it ever run again? In anticipation that it might, I've taken the covers off the little Yamaha and am starting to apply tools to it in the first time in years... eight years since that one's run and there's plenty to be done, not least fixing the wiring where some little scrotes attempted to hotwire it, not knowing that the battery was long dead. I love a project.

Gotten the weekend to play with, although in reality there's not much playing to do. Goldie Lookin' Car has a massive leak of the water pump - going through two gallons of water a day - and really needs looking at, but it's difficult to get a time window where I can do without it. In reality, I'm running it because I have to, but it's limited to local journeys only which is really quite imprisoning. So things are a little claustrophobic here in the Fortress of Solitude, which also has rather less solitude than I'm used to as well. I would love to spend my hard earned weekend off taking a trip, rather than being stuck here doing domestics; I've totally overdue a trip south to see the home-dudes. Hey ho. Can't be helped. Working next weekend, so I doubt hugely that I'm going to get any away-time with my weekday day's off either. Know what, I really wouldn't mind having my life back.