Wheeled warrior   Leave a comment

Utter failure at a “Springtime for Hitler” pun.

Sunday was a busy day. Which isn’t the same as exciting or interesting, but nevermind.

First up was hanging up the bedroom door, to see if it fitted nicely and could be varnished, and then painting the knots on it. You might have thought it had enough already. No, you have to put stuff on them to stop them leaking, so I did.

Then I went to the town to admire Wilkinson’s door-handles and curtain-poles, to see what the actual finishes looked like. Maybe real-world shops have a use after all, not that I had any intention of buying any from them. It was a lovely sunny day, so it seemed a good idea to inflict my bare, pallid legs on the population at large. They’ll live.

Next was some genocide. You might think that if these aryan master-plants were really so superior they’d out-compete the plants that just turn up all by themselves, but no. Hours of effort must be expended because they look pretty and, like a stormtrooper’s buzz-cut, must be kept to regulation length.
This was my first mowing of this lawn and, I think, the first lawn I’ve ever mowed in my life.

It turns out that my avoiding it was spot on.

My mower (unlike my sister’s, which had been used before) weighs a ton. Pushing it over rough ground, through thick grass, is far more effort than it’s worth. Worse, the on/off push-in rocker doesn’t stay pushed in; the slightest bump and it pops out, and the mower stops. So you’re holding that in with your right thumb, holding up the keep-going-bar with your left hand, trying to keep the cable out of the way with no hands left, all whilst pushing something that’s heavier than some of my old cars. Which runs aground or gets snarled up every few yards, so you have to push the front end off the ground and then restart it.

It didn’t even suck the grass into its grass-box properly, so I had to sweep that up afterwards. Joy. Not forseeing that, I didn’t have a rake, so had to use my hands and a broom.

I’m glad my front lawn is tiny. When it came to vandalising the back garden, I gave up on the mower and just hit it with the strimmer until nothing was left standing. Possibly I should have swept those cuttings up too, but couldn’t be bothered without the right tools (and there was nowhere to buy them, of course. Stupid Sunday opening hours). I figure that grass was around for millions of years before rakes were invented. It’ll cope.

And if it doesn’t cope it won’t need mowing.

After that I could return indoors – hurrah! – so I could do a bit more handle-browsing. Possibly I put too much thought and effort into selecting door-handles. Once I had made my decisions, I discovered the site I was looking at was either a scam or rubbish, so I had to do it all again elsewhere. Eventually, handles and what-not were bought; £180 for nine pairs of handles, nine ball-bearing hinges, seven tubular latches (I wanted heavy-duty ones, but they’re hard to find in 2 1/2″, for which my doors are suited), two heavy-duty bathroom lock/latch things, and two turny-lock knobs that match the handles.

Then the knotting compound had dried, so it was time to weigh down the bedroom door and brush boiling water onto it, so it would bend into shape, before painting the radiator pipes to match everything else.

And finally I made a couple of days’-worth of cheese and tuna salad.



Posted 25 August 2011 by Colthor in Diary

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