“Seven lonely days
And a dozen towns ago
I reached out one night
And you were gone”
That’s Elvis (Presley, not Costello) singing “Kentucky Rain”. In the song he’s looking for somebody who walked out on him a week or so ago. He is hitching through Kentucky and showing a photograph to everyone he meets in the hope of finding his lost love. Although the song is obviously about a missing lover I think it could have been improved by hinting that he was actually looking for Old Shep. That would be a great mash-up.
I woke up this morning (don’t worry, this isn’t another blues parody about handlebars) to the sound of torrential rain. Actually, “This morning” is stretching it a bit. I’ve woken for the last two mornings almost before yesterday has wrapped up and gone to bed. The benefit of this has meant I’ve been able to watch the GP qualifying and race. The downsides are that I knew who would win and I’m tired and grumpy for the rest of the day.
So after watching Herr Vettel romp to his fifth victory in a row I glanced outside to see what the world was looking like. It looked a lot like this.
At least the bit from the upstairs window did. Your bit of the world may have looked slightly different – If your bit of the world looks exactly like this then I’m going to phone the police.
In the background behind the trampoline you can see Shed, home of Little Project. If you look very closely you will see draped across the roof of Shed a bough from the pear tree (should that really be capitalised? I just don’t know). Pear tree, in a disgruntled moment obviously brought about by me harvesting some of its potentially tasty but still quite hard fruit has decided to exact revenge by lacerating the roof of Shed during the rainiest night in West London for many months. Stupid pear tree.
The consequences of said desecration are many-fold. In fact, they are many-fold in the manifold! The rain (I’m toying with getting biblical about this rain, it could have been a tropical storm, maybe even a typhoon) has streamed, poured, maybe even gushed through the roof and all over the engine that I have been diligently whacking with a hammer all week. The post diluvian results meaning that everything is as wet as an otters pocket and there is a slick on the floor comprising of:
- A spillage of oil from the Little Project engine (even though it assured me it was empty)
- About 100 million tiny bits of Al You Min Ee Um from the piston that I am (still) trying to remove
- Roughly 40 gallons of rainwater kindly delivered via pear tree
- Some smashed up baby pears that I stomped on in a furious revenge driven attack after discovering what the pear tree had done to Shed roof (I am regretting this addition to the slick, it didn’t really help at all).
So for the rest of today (it is roughly 13:00 in Twickenham) I am either going to:
- Mend the roof of the shed
- Go back to bed (although then I won’t be tired tonight and thus will have to sit up at three am watching repeats of CSI:Luton or something similar)
- Go to the pub and hope that by the time I’ve come home everything will have miraculously fixed itself
In other words, there has been very little forward movement in the removal of the packed-up piston from the rusted barrel. I did spend some time yesterday drilling more holes in the piston in an effort to make a gap big enough to get a hacksaw in. Then I spend some more time hitting the barrel with a big hammer in the hope that it would just somehow fly off. Some of the cooling fins did fly off so I suppose that a last course of action could be to just keep hitting the barrel with the hammer until it has completely disappeared. That’s an option! I do have one final alternative of sawing through the conrod. This will definitely allow the cylinder head to come off but it will also mean splitting the crank so that I can put a new conrod in and I’ve looked at the screws that are holding the crank together and they don’t look like an easy option either!
Thanks for taking the time to visit. Please come back soon!
NB: I can’t decide if “post diluvian” should be “post diluvial” – Anyone with a decent grasp of the language, please feel free to put me right,