5 Jun 2014

And Then Another Seven….

A week; just one more week; that’s all I need and I’ll be back on the sofa where I rightly belong. Unless…..

Why’s it taken so long? Well, my head just isn’t working like it used to which, as previously stated, I still believe is an age thing. That’s okay then. I’m getting old so the head won’t work like it used to, right? This doesn’t exactly make me feel any better as it kind o’ gives you a look into the near future and what’s to come and, at this stage, I’m not sure up-hill is an option which leaves the opposite direction to look forward to with the passing of time. And that time thingy also seems to be accelerating alarmingly.

I’ll give you an example – and please don’t start talking about tool boxes and planning as anyone who’s been by here before will be well aware that I rarely have both oars in the water even at the simplest of times.

So there am I, or I am, working away way up top the way and find I need four number eight screws of an approximate length of an inch and a little bit. Prepare downstairs, through the house, across the garden to the shed and, against all the odds, locate four screws of the dimensions required. This is occasion of a small celebration as it alleviates the need to buy a pack of twenty for the four I need.**

With a spring in my step, occasioned by stepping on a screw I dropped, I proceed from the shed, across the garden, through the house, up the stairs and check the fit. Perfect! Okay, let’s get this sucker secured. Oh, oh. You know what? I should’ve picked up that cheeky wee screwdriver while I was down there in the shed……

Back in the shed you’d be forgiven for assuming I’d ascertained the need for either a flat bladed screwdriver or a cross-headed one. Totally wrong you’d be. Thus, over a period of time, the contents of the shed are transported to various work-sights.

And that, my friends, is a slightly simplified example of how the jobs have been proceeding with the ‘help’ of my old head.

Time to relax that swede o’ mine with a little easy listening.

**Remember the old Iron Mongers? Any number or weight of anything you needed. Two screws, an ounce of panel-pins, a heater wick and a gallon of paraffin in this can please. So, so easy, was it not?
”Four number eight screws please.”
”Sure. How long do you want them?”
”I’d like to keep them……”

Quote;  Jarod Kintz.

“Death is coming—but hopefully not before old age, decrepitude, and senility. ”


A K Haart said...

I've always worked like that. I bought a big toolbox so I'd have everything to hand, but it's so heavy I leave it in the shed.

Maybe the logical thing to do is move the shed next to your latest job.

Mac said...

Sounds exactly like my toolbox. On the bright side, all that 'running' back and forth has to count as exercise I guess, so that's good. Now I just need to figure where Burger King and the local chippy fit into that five-a-day thingy.

Caratacus said...

My aged mother never stops laughing at this sort of thing. She recently told me of an old lady who was tacking slightly to windward as she left the church and was assisted on her way by the inept vicar. In an ungallant attempt to engage her in conversation, he asked her if she ever thought about the Hereafter. She paused and regarded him owlishly through her pince-nez, "Why, vicar", she twinkled, "I think about it all the time. Every time I go into the kitchen I think to myself - Now what did I come in 'ere after?"

We call them CRAFT moments down here in Devon - Can't Remember A Flipping Thing. But the pronunciation tends to vary a bit from one village to another ...

Mac said...

Caratacus, Those are pure gold for which I thank you very big. A laugh will lighten any load.