It's so unfair
I suppose everyone gets days like these. A lazy Sunday, when everything I tried to do turned out not wrong, but not quite right. The sides of the shed I was building just didn't quite fit. The battery-powered drill just couldn't quite drill through the metal frame before running out. The creosote I was brushing onto the exposed wooden edges just wouldn't quite stay on the brush, and trickled down my elbow. The cat which had shat on the ground nearby just hadn't quite buried it deeply enough, and I knelt in it. The rag with which I tried to wipe it off my trousers just wasn't quite strong enough, and I smeared light brown shit over the dark brown creosote already drying on my fingers.
So I said 'enough', left the tools laying where they wanted to be, and we went out in the heat of the afternoon sun to visit the airfield at Compton Abbas. It is just a small grass landing strip on the top of Spreadeagle hill, and we found it had a small museum attached to it with a collection of replica aircraft constructed by Doug Bianchi. Some of them you will have seen in the film 'Those Magnificent Men in their Flying Machines', and another in 'The Adventures of Young Sherlock Holmes', and one, made for the film 'The Great Waldo Pepper', (that I have yet to see), was a replica of a Sopwith Camel. I suppose this means I should post a picture of it for those of you who still think my blog name has something to do with dromedaries. Well, I will, but not today, because today I am bemoaning my lot.
We got home for early evening, and I started scurrying around picking up tools, putting creosote brushes into jars, storing solar chargers and batteries safely away, and lighting the Rayburn so that there would be bathwater ready for later that night.
My camera battery had run out during the visit to the museum and I had swapped over to the spare. As little petal started chivvying me to come and get my supper I paused, put down the armfull of wood, clipped the dead battery into the charger, plugged the charger into the mains inverter, and connected the inverter plug leads to the 12 volt battery that the sun had charged up all day. In my rush, I connected the leads the wrong way round, and the brief flash as I touched a black clip to a battery positive terminal alerted me, but too late. The green LED on the inverter failed to light after I had correctly connected the leads. I groaned, threw the wood into the Rayburn, and sat down to eat.
As I chewed on my chicken-in-filo-pastry pie, I felt an ominous crack. 'Please let that be a piece of chicken bone'. But no, the fates that day had decided that it should be a piece of tooth. One of my teeth. One of the two teeth on which I recently had root canal work. Quite costly root-canal work.
This week, I are (sic) mostly weeping by the waters of Babylon, and wailing at the wall. I shall not, however, be gnashing my teeth.
So I said 'enough', left the tools laying where they wanted to be, and we went out in the heat of the afternoon sun to visit the airfield at Compton Abbas. It is just a small grass landing strip on the top of Spreadeagle hill, and we found it had a small museum attached to it with a collection of replica aircraft constructed by Doug Bianchi. Some of them you will have seen in the film 'Those Magnificent Men in their Flying Machines', and another in 'The Adventures of Young Sherlock Holmes', and one, made for the film 'The Great Waldo Pepper', (that I have yet to see), was a replica of a Sopwith Camel. I suppose this means I should post a picture of it for those of you who still think my blog name has something to do with dromedaries. Well, I will, but not today, because today I am bemoaning my lot.
We got home for early evening, and I started scurrying around picking up tools, putting creosote brushes into jars, storing solar chargers and batteries safely away, and lighting the Rayburn so that there would be bathwater ready for later that night.
My camera battery had run out during the visit to the museum and I had swapped over to the spare. As little petal started chivvying me to come and get my supper I paused, put down the armfull of wood, clipped the dead battery into the charger, plugged the charger into the mains inverter, and connected the inverter plug leads to the 12 volt battery that the sun had charged up all day. In my rush, I connected the leads the wrong way round, and the brief flash as I touched a black clip to a battery positive terminal alerted me, but too late. The green LED on the inverter failed to light after I had correctly connected the leads. I groaned, threw the wood into the Rayburn, and sat down to eat.
As I chewed on my chicken-in-filo-pastry pie, I felt an ominous crack. 'Please let that be a piece of chicken bone'. But no, the fates that day had decided that it should be a piece of tooth. One of my teeth. One of the two teeth on which I recently had root canal work. Quite costly root-canal work.
This week, I are (sic) mostly weeping by the waters of Babylon, and wailing at the wall. I shall not, however, be gnashing my teeth.
posted by Sopwith-Camel | 1:04 pm
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