24 May 2005
Bloody noses
I was settling down to make some bread this morning when the eight year olds school rang – he’d hit a wall with his nose and it wouldn’t stop leaking claret. I left the dough and jumped in the car. He’s gonna have a couple of black eyes and his nose is now VERY big – I took him for a quiet sit-down in A&E for a couple of hours – have you been there recently? – its moved and nigh-on impossible to find and there’s no parking. Any way the triage nurse took a look once we’d given full family history and the whole familys set of shoe sizes, then we waited for the secondage nurse to have another look … … … while we were there several builders came in (not all at the same time) with various broken or bleeding parts – obviously a dangerous job – steer yours away if you can. And a couple of care home kids with carers – one had fainted and another twisted a finger (worried about insurance claims I suppose). Do family Doctors do NOTHING these days? Well our turn came – ‘we’ don’t do anything for noses apparently – wait a few days until the swelling goes down and if it looks bent then go to ENT – didn’t even stick cotton buds up to straighten it like they do in boxing on the telly – no wonder there’s so many ugly kids out there. There didn’t seem to be a firstage nurse so we just left. Oh well he can go back to school tomorrow. I’m trying to make some tomato bread this afternoon – ordinary bread but when I knead the dough, I put in bits of sun dried tomato and olive oil – smells ok – should be done in about fifteen minutes. Could be a bit weird with butter and marmalade, more a salad or pasta type bread I expect. He’s (the eight year old) playing Xbox now – I can’t even go shopping ‘cos there was a report in the paper about truancy patrols finding most kids skipping off are out shopping with their parents – there’s nothing wrong with him but the school won’t take him back today – it’s the same if he is sick – they won’t take him for 48 hours – of course he knows this and has been ‘sick’ twice this year already – but now we’re wise and demand to see the vomit. No vomit – no stayee at homee. We gave the two year old some calpol before crèche once and made the mistake of telling them – thought they’d like to know – they refused to take him – now of course we just don’t tell them.
19 May 2005
Making Robots in the shed (Shed Robotics)
** use ROT13 for any unitelligible letter sequences **
I started with an old VDU monitor, stripped it down and tore all the heavy metal, the tube and circuit boards out, then added wheels and gearboxes a few relays and circuits, a head full of sensors through an RS232 to 8 bit I/O converter and in the base, a sealed 12v lead acid battery. I strapped an old laptop to the top with some elastic bands, plugged in the Centronics relay board and turned the whole thing on - I stood back expecting either nothing or else something really big ... it booted - I resisted shouting for the Brunette to come and see what I'd done until some tests had been carried out. It smelled ok and the laptop booted into jvaqbjf v95 - so far so good. I loaded my program to the laptop to make it drive around and avoid things - it started forwards then erupted into a very noticeable and embarrassingly large blueish/grey cloud of smoke and stopped. All the neighbourhood cats jumped off the shed roof and birds stopped chirping. The smoke wafted up through the trees. Children began to cry. Mrs Oybaqr from two doors up, took her washing in. Turned out I had the relay phasing wrong and when in the process of changing direction the relays swapped polarity to the motors ok but did it before disconnecting the current - a dead short with a fully charged battery is not a calming event (the Beta-blockers earned their keep that day) and when I jumped up to pull a wire off the battery - I nearly cut my fingers off because the wire was glowing and insulation was molten. Mental note: fit a big cut-off switch to the top of the next one and double check the relay sequencing. It took a long time for my fingers to heal and they still ache in cold weather so be warned.
Well, I examined the mess and surprisingly there was relatively little damage. Apart from smoke and finger damage, a track had burnt through on the relay board (this probably saved the old laptop from more serious damage). The power circuit for the laptop was fried as I'd tried to be clever and used the 12 volt battery to power everything including motors, sensors and laptop and when the current surge hit the power control board the chips had sprung leaks and haemorrhaged their blue smoke and it is nigh on impossible to get that blue smoke back into the chips once it has got out. Anyway I cut all the (now empty) chips out of the laptop and chopped the burnt bits of board out then wired it with a variable voltage mains adaptor to the point looking the most likely place for power input - blimey it worked - booted into jvaqbjf v95 no problem. I was on a roll. I immediately went to the corner shop and bought a lottery ticket.
The joys of neighbour watching
I have to report we have some ‘new people’ moved in next door.
The chap pulled up in a very utilitarian, box–Luton type, van (diesel) (electrical tail-lift) and deftly reversed into a very cosy space outside our house, just nudging the old Merc back a few inches – I looked at it from the window for a while but then decided it was much better where he left it than where I had on my return from the shops earlier. In any case I couldn’t be bothered to change my vest and exchange slippers for shoes to just go outside for an engagement in a remonstration. Anyway that aside, he and his significant other then spent a hectic afternoon moving chattels from the van to the house whilst our two childs looked on from the safety of the window sill and reporting anything interesting looking, to me reclining on the sofa reading the paper and watching moto GP. Anyway, evening came and with the van apparently empty, their front door was shut. Lo and behold a few minutes later the chap was out the back erecting his shed – well I have to admire his stamina and assignment of priorities. He even got the felt roof on in the rain – I waved a couple of times from the upstairs bedroom and raised my mug of tea in respect but he didn’t seem to notice me in my deckchair I’d arranged next to the window so I could see how he put the shed together – nails not screws – he’ll learn. His other came out after a while in an anorak and held a pot of clout nails presumably so he didn’t have to keep getting down off the roof when he dropped his handful. I called from the window once or twice with witticisms to keep him from flagging but as I say, I don’t think he noticed. Still, we’ve got plenty of time to get acquainted. I'll need to knock his door soon enough – I need to get him to replace his fence as it is a bit lopsided now after I nailed the cable to my shed to it and the boys keep kicking the panels – bless them.
The chap pulled up in a very utilitarian, box–Luton type, van (diesel) (electrical tail-lift) and deftly reversed into a very cosy space outside our house, just nudging the old Merc back a few inches – I looked at it from the window for a while but then decided it was much better where he left it than where I had on my return from the shops earlier. In any case I couldn’t be bothered to change my vest and exchange slippers for shoes to just go outside for an engagement in a remonstration. Anyway that aside, he and his significant other then spent a hectic afternoon moving chattels from the van to the house whilst our two childs looked on from the safety of the window sill and reporting anything interesting looking, to me reclining on the sofa reading the paper and watching moto GP. Anyway, evening came and with the van apparently empty, their front door was shut. Lo and behold a few minutes later the chap was out the back erecting his shed – well I have to admire his stamina and assignment of priorities. He even got the felt roof on in the rain – I waved a couple of times from the upstairs bedroom and raised my mug of tea in respect but he didn’t seem to notice me in my deckchair I’d arranged next to the window so I could see how he put the shed together – nails not screws – he’ll learn. His other came out after a while in an anorak and held a pot of clout nails presumably so he didn’t have to keep getting down off the roof when he dropped his handful. I called from the window once or twice with witticisms to keep him from flagging but as I say, I don’t think he noticed. Still, we’ve got plenty of time to get acquainted. I'll need to knock his door soon enough – I need to get him to replace his fence as it is a bit lopsided now after I nailed the cable to my shed to it and the boys keep kicking the panels – bless them.
It took me two days to change a light-bulb
And this is how I did it ...
Brunette - "Oi ! when you've finished sglurping your breakfast, the bulb in the kitchen has blown again!"
Me - (cheerily) "Yes dear! just coming!" and as an after-thought "what wattage would that be dearest?"
Brunette - "You tryin to be funny!!??"
Me - (hesitantly) "umm, probably, umm dearest"
.
.
Anyway, I went to change the light bulb whereupon the light fitting just crumbled and broke in my hands.
We needed a replacement light fitting for the kitchen. Cor a technical job I could really get into.
I went out and bought a sparkly new chromed fitting from ye olde DIYe shoppe.
Wobbling on the kitchen three legged stool and on attempting to fit the fitting, I immediately noticed two things.
1) The wires coming down from the ceiling did not include an Earth - essential for this type of fitting.
2) The wire protruding from the ceiling was of the old 'rubber' type and the insulation was crumbling away.
We needed new wire ..This job was getting bigger very quickly. I may have to don my brown workshop coat and tape a pencil behind my ear - should impress them down at the hardware shoppe.
Upstairs in the box room, I merrily pulled up the carpet to reveal the floorboards which needed removing to allow me to replace the wiring. This then also revealed another problem.
1) The boards were crumbly and riddled with woodworm.
I scuttled back to the ‘olde hardware shoppe’ with tape measure in hand to purchase a tin of their finest 14 Star Wood Worm Treatment.
At the same time I impressed myself by purchasing some lengths of replacement floor boarding and a reel of twin and earth.
I could tell there had been some DIY in this area before – aha! A rare chance to study someone else’s DIY techniques without them noticing me watching from the bushes. Under the floor boards should have been an albeit dark and dusty – space. Yes, space was missing. I had the dark and dusty but I was somehow missing the ‘space’ bit. It was full of old bits of copper 15mm & 22mm pipe, cut wires, broken terminal blocks, bits of brick, plaster and chunks of general masonry, spent matches, old floor-board nails, half of a workman’s cap (left side), a screw driver (large flat bladed) and a house number plaque for No.27 ! (we live at No. 32 so this was particularly worrying). Finally, there was the handle from a china t-cup. I rubbed my hands together – at least my DIY will be better than the last bloke I thought and hopped around the room on one leg (the other had gone to sleep seven minutes previously). I removed all the affected wood and carted it down stairs to the dust bin, dispersing infected wood dust around the house to ensure years of DIY pleasure for decades to come. I retrieved my workshop hoover from the shed and set about reclaiming the spaces between the joists then shut the door on the dust until the morning.
I sploshed the 14 Star Wood Worm Treatment around the area and, whilst it all soaked into the wood, read the instructions on the tin
"Keep away from cables and wiring"
"do not replace carpets for 6-8 weeks"
"Highly flammable - keep away from sparks and live wires"
"not suitable for wood"
"do not liberally splosh about the place"
yada
yada
I beetled down stairs and removed the relevant fuse (clearly pencilled “smorl bedrume”), from the Bakelite fuse-box on the wall, after, of course, first removing three tonnes of junk from in front of the afore mentioned.
Down in the sitting room the telly went off. We were bathed in silence for a short yet metric second …
"Hey! mum! the telly has gone off!" shouted Charlie from the sitting room. I thought ... "Coo that boy’s bright – he’ll go a long way he will." Then called “Oops, wrong fuse”. I replaced that one and as none proclaimed to be for kitchen lights, removed the one marked "Dawn Stares Sokits". Prayers went out to the Mr Previous Owner - Hey presto, the box room light went out. Off I went again, up the ever lengthening stairs. I stopped and thought - Ah yes of course - although I'm working in the box-room (upstairs), the light fitting is the kitchen fitting (downstairs) - simple but deadly mistake. I'd better check and label those fuses - one flat Monday.
I examined the fittings for the light switch in the space under the floor boards and below in the kitchen - the two screws normally firmly twisted into a beam or some such were actually just poking through one of the lathes (yep lathe and plaster ceiling below). These were then prevented from disappearing into the kitchen by having a piece of wire wrapped around the two threaded screws.
After a rummage in my “Battleship Blue” shed I found just the piece of wood I needed. Pine I think, or maybe Horse Chestnut. Up to the box room and a short while sawing, planing and sanding later I fitted the best looking noggin you've ever seen. It fitted in all the right places, it had clean sleek lines and crisp edges. I’d waxed it as well so whom ever came after me could see the sheer quality of the DIY that I could do. Unfortunately while I was doing this, the pull-cord switch fell from the ceiling below and shattered into small fragments on the cold, hard kitchen floor. This then elicited a barrage of loud calling from below as the Brunette was mixing a practice batch of Yorkshire Pudding at the time and the shock of the crashing light switch caused her to have a sudden movement (momentous occasion) and consequently the batter mixture sprayed liberally around four walls and the Brunettes best Sunday outfit (its a Saturday).
Once I'd cleaned the kitchen, (it somehow became my job as the Brunette had to sit down and recover) I returned to the box room, gathered my tape measure, attached it to my trouser belt and popped out to the olde DIY shoppe once again - this time for a new light switch. As a rule, I’ve always found it best to visit the DIY shoppe looking as though I know what I’m doing, (hence the tape-measure) otherwise I get palmed off with something I don’t want and then have to find another shoppe to get what I really wanted in the first place, as I’m then too embarrassed to go back to the original shoppe to exchange the wrong thing for the right thing.
So, back up to the box room. Then down again to the kitchen – “up down up down up down like a whores drawers!” “What’s that?” “Nothing dearest, just up and down stairs a lot, that’s all”. I screw the new light switch through the ceiling and into my smart looking ‘noggin’. Beautiful! Both screws ‘do-up’ tightly. I trundle back up to have a look.
Back in the box room, something in the floor sparks – “Woah!!” I jump back and fly down stairs – the fuse is not on the ironing board where I left it! “Err, Brunette?” I call tentatively, “Do you know where the fuse is that I left on the ironing board?” “Oh I put it back in the fuse box – I thought you’d finished with it” My mind wanders back to just the other evening. The Brunette was asking about my life insurance … I remove the fuse once again and place it carefully in my pocket.
Wires get replaced with proper 5A ‘twin & earth’, fittings get installed, dust and debris get brushed and vacuumed and all works wonderfully. Hoorah! The stairs light hasn't flickered since either, which is just a little strange. I cut the floor boards and screw them down – I don’t like using nails as I know I’ll only have to pull them out again and it’s always much easier when the boards are screwed down. Measure twice – cut once. Measure twice – cut once. Measure twice – cut once.
Basking in my success with the noggin, I examine the step down into the box room – turn of the century terraces have strange configurations sometimes - there really ought to be two steps as opposed to the one glopping great cliff in place at the moment. I mentally plan re-fitting the step and making two smaller ones to replace the one large step. “It’ll be a doddle love and it will be easier for you when carrying the baby” Brunette looks at me with that knowing but doubtful look of hers. “Why don’t we sit in front of the TV tonight and share a pot of ‘half-baked’?” she says, her steely look softening. I'm already thinking about replacing the shower unit and I spend the remainder of the day replacing my tools into their proper marked places in my shed and checking my stock of plumbing bits and pieces for next weekend - it shouldn't take long surely... just remove the old shower and put a new one in its place ... surely ...
Brunette - "Oi ! when you've finished sglurping your breakfast, the bulb in the kitchen has blown again!"
Me - (cheerily) "Yes dear! just coming!" and as an after-thought "what wattage would that be dearest?"
Brunette - "You tryin to be funny!!??"
Me - (hesitantly) "umm, probably, umm dearest"
.
.
Anyway, I went to change the light bulb whereupon the light fitting just crumbled and broke in my hands.
We needed a replacement light fitting for the kitchen. Cor a technical job I could really get into.
I went out and bought a sparkly new chromed fitting from ye olde DIYe shoppe.
Wobbling on the kitchen three legged stool and on attempting to fit the fitting, I immediately noticed two things.
1) The wires coming down from the ceiling did not include an Earth - essential for this type of fitting.
2) The wire protruding from the ceiling was of the old 'rubber' type and the insulation was crumbling away.
We needed new wire ..This job was getting bigger very quickly. I may have to don my brown workshop coat and tape a pencil behind my ear - should impress them down at the hardware shoppe.
Upstairs in the box room, I merrily pulled up the carpet to reveal the floorboards which needed removing to allow me to replace the wiring. This then also revealed another problem.
1) The boards were crumbly and riddled with woodworm.
I scuttled back to the ‘olde hardware shoppe’ with tape measure in hand to purchase a tin of their finest 14 Star Wood Worm Treatment.
At the same time I impressed myself by purchasing some lengths of replacement floor boarding and a reel of twin and earth.
I could tell there had been some DIY in this area before – aha! A rare chance to study someone else’s DIY techniques without them noticing me watching from the bushes. Under the floor boards should have been an albeit dark and dusty – space. Yes, space was missing. I had the dark and dusty but I was somehow missing the ‘space’ bit. It was full of old bits of copper 15mm & 22mm pipe, cut wires, broken terminal blocks, bits of brick, plaster and chunks of general masonry, spent matches, old floor-board nails, half of a workman’s cap (left side), a screw driver (large flat bladed) and a house number plaque for No.27 ! (we live at No. 32 so this was particularly worrying). Finally, there was the handle from a china t-cup. I rubbed my hands together – at least my DIY will be better than the last bloke I thought and hopped around the room on one leg (the other had gone to sleep seven minutes previously). I removed all the affected wood and carted it down stairs to the dust bin, dispersing infected wood dust around the house to ensure years of DIY pleasure for decades to come. I retrieved my workshop hoover from the shed and set about reclaiming the spaces between the joists then shut the door on the dust until the morning.
I sploshed the 14 Star Wood Worm Treatment around the area and, whilst it all soaked into the wood, read the instructions on the tin
"Keep away from cables and wiring"
"do not replace carpets for 6-8 weeks"
"Highly flammable - keep away from sparks and live wires"
"not suitable for wood"
"do not liberally splosh about the place"
yada
yada
I beetled down stairs and removed the relevant fuse (clearly pencilled “smorl bedrume”), from the Bakelite fuse-box on the wall, after, of course, first removing three tonnes of junk from in front of the afore mentioned.
Down in the sitting room the telly went off. We were bathed in silence for a short yet metric second …
"Hey! mum! the telly has gone off!" shouted Charlie from the sitting room. I thought ... "Coo that boy’s bright – he’ll go a long way he will." Then called “Oops, wrong fuse”. I replaced that one and as none proclaimed to be for kitchen lights, removed the one marked "Dawn Stares Sokits". Prayers went out to the Mr Previous Owner - Hey presto, the box room light went out. Off I went again, up the ever lengthening stairs. I stopped and thought - Ah yes of course - although I'm working in the box-room (upstairs), the light fitting is the kitchen fitting (downstairs) - simple but deadly mistake. I'd better check and label those fuses - one flat Monday.
I examined the fittings for the light switch in the space under the floor boards and below in the kitchen - the two screws normally firmly twisted into a beam or some such were actually just poking through one of the lathes (yep lathe and plaster ceiling below). These were then prevented from disappearing into the kitchen by having a piece of wire wrapped around the two threaded screws.
After a rummage in my “Battleship Blue” shed I found just the piece of wood I needed. Pine I think, or maybe Horse Chestnut. Up to the box room and a short while sawing, planing and sanding later I fitted the best looking noggin you've ever seen. It fitted in all the right places, it had clean sleek lines and crisp edges. I’d waxed it as well so whom ever came after me could see the sheer quality of the DIY that I could do. Unfortunately while I was doing this, the pull-cord switch fell from the ceiling below and shattered into small fragments on the cold, hard kitchen floor. This then elicited a barrage of loud calling from below as the Brunette was mixing a practice batch of Yorkshire Pudding at the time and the shock of the crashing light switch caused her to have a sudden movement (momentous occasion) and consequently the batter mixture sprayed liberally around four walls and the Brunettes best Sunday outfit (its a Saturday).
Once I'd cleaned the kitchen, (it somehow became my job as the Brunette had to sit down and recover) I returned to the box room, gathered my tape measure, attached it to my trouser belt and popped out to the olde DIY shoppe once again - this time for a new light switch. As a rule, I’ve always found it best to visit the DIY shoppe looking as though I know what I’m doing, (hence the tape-measure) otherwise I get palmed off with something I don’t want and then have to find another shoppe to get what I really wanted in the first place, as I’m then too embarrassed to go back to the original shoppe to exchange the wrong thing for the right thing.
So, back up to the box room. Then down again to the kitchen – “up down up down up down like a whores drawers!” “What’s that?” “Nothing dearest, just up and down stairs a lot, that’s all”. I screw the new light switch through the ceiling and into my smart looking ‘noggin’. Beautiful! Both screws ‘do-up’ tightly. I trundle back up to have a look.
Back in the box room, something in the floor sparks – “Woah!!” I jump back and fly down stairs – the fuse is not on the ironing board where I left it! “Err, Brunette?” I call tentatively, “Do you know where the fuse is that I left on the ironing board?” “Oh I put it back in the fuse box – I thought you’d finished with it” My mind wanders back to just the other evening. The Brunette was asking about my life insurance … I remove the fuse once again and place it carefully in my pocket.
Wires get replaced with proper 5A ‘twin & earth’, fittings get installed, dust and debris get brushed and vacuumed and all works wonderfully. Hoorah! The stairs light hasn't flickered since either, which is just a little strange. I cut the floor boards and screw them down – I don’t like using nails as I know I’ll only have to pull them out again and it’s always much easier when the boards are screwed down. Measure twice – cut once. Measure twice – cut once. Measure twice – cut once.
Basking in my success with the noggin, I examine the step down into the box room – turn of the century terraces have strange configurations sometimes - there really ought to be two steps as opposed to the one glopping great cliff in place at the moment. I mentally plan re-fitting the step and making two smaller ones to replace the one large step. “It’ll be a doddle love and it will be easier for you when carrying the baby” Brunette looks at me with that knowing but doubtful look of hers. “Why don’t we sit in front of the TV tonight and share a pot of ‘half-baked’?” she says, her steely look softening. I'm already thinking about replacing the shower unit and I spend the remainder of the day replacing my tools into their proper marked places in my shed and checking my stock of plumbing bits and pieces for next weekend - it shouldn't take long surely... just remove the old shower and put a new one in its place ... surely ...
11 May 2005
11/5/2005
Dear Dennis,
Why is it that you choose to reply to some of my communications but not others? If we were standing together in the quad at your factory you’d respond to every aspect of conversation. Do you somehow imagine that is acceptable for you to pick and choose which aspects of communication you respond to? Well, I have recognized your strategy and plan to only reference a single topic from now on, in each email or text.
I have applied at the Town Museum for a job as artifact labeler – I imagine I have to write those cardboard labels normally sellotaped to pictures and statues and the like ……………. Picture of Horse ………. Or …………. Really old statue. I have again written you in as a referee and have agreed that they can contact you if they really think you’d reply. Although I have advised them to keep it singular to save your confusion.
Why is it that you choose to reply to some of my communications but not others? If we were standing together in the quad at your factory you’d respond to every aspect of conversation. Do you somehow imagine that is acceptable for you to pick and choose which aspects of communication you respond to? Well, I have recognized your strategy and plan to only reference a single topic from now on, in each email or text.
I have applied at the Town Museum for a job as artifact labeler – I imagine I have to write those cardboard labels normally sellotaped to pictures and statues and the like ……………. Picture of Horse ………. Or …………. Really old statue. I have again written you in as a referee and have agreed that they can contact you if they really think you’d reply. Although I have advised them to keep it singular to save your confusion.
04 May 2005
4/5/2005
Dear Dennis,
I firstly wish to inform you I have published a new recip on my web site and the fudge link is on the index page in the normal manner.
So here goes – Dennis, I have put a recip for fudge on my web site.
I purchased a vest the other day whilst mooching in town. The brunette is threatening to tell all my friends if I continue to wear it in bed, however seeing as you are my only friend, I considered it polite to inform you first myself. It is a white string vest and it keeps me cool in summer and warm in winter and has smooth stitched seams.
My feet are giving me jip in this weather and the arthritis in my big toe causes me to wince at every step.
Saul has learned a new trick – he made blood come out of his lip and his nose at the same time last Saturday – tripped and bit our back concrete step. It made me feel right queer I can tell you – the brunette refused to look so I held him tight with a cold flannel until his sobs subsided. He is fine now – just a few days later and you’d never know – if it had been me I’d have had a three week stay in hospital I can tell you. Strangely the cats didn’t lick the blood drips from the step.
All the best eh
D
I firstly wish to inform you I have published a new recip on my web site and the fudge link is on the index page in the normal manner.
So here goes – Dennis, I have put a recip for fudge on my web site.
I purchased a vest the other day whilst mooching in town. The brunette is threatening to tell all my friends if I continue to wear it in bed, however seeing as you are my only friend, I considered it polite to inform you first myself. It is a white string vest and it keeps me cool in summer and warm in winter and has smooth stitched seams.
My feet are giving me jip in this weather and the arthritis in my big toe causes me to wince at every step.
Saul has learned a new trick – he made blood come out of his lip and his nose at the same time last Saturday – tripped and bit our back concrete step. It made me feel right queer I can tell you – the brunette refused to look so I held him tight with a cold flannel until his sobs subsided. He is fine now – just a few days later and you’d never know – if it had been me I’d have had a three week stay in hospital I can tell you. Strangely the cats didn’t lick the blood drips from the step.
All the best eh
D
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