Mostly lemon based

Category: I’m a mechanic me…

  • Moggie stuff

    So, despite having not made any more progress on the house (we have narrowed our selection of colours on paint, so I need to go and buy some, but I keep putting it off, because I’d like to do the woodwork first, and that means getting the minor sorted and back together, which means, ideally, a few days off in a row), I’ve treated myself to a birthday gift.

    Heated seats.

    Now, if I was clever, and trusted myself, I’d also like fabric covers for the seats in the minor, but I don’t think I’m quite at that level*, although I’d miss the look of the vinyl. I understand that they make leather seat covers to match the original vinyl ones, which is an interesting possibility. Anyhow, for the ‘moment’ I’ve got new foam, new seat springing things (it’s a big rubber sheet to replace the original straps) and new straps to replace the ones at the back.

    Irritatingly it’s a job I’ve actually already done once, when a seat frame collapsed on Rebecca years ago I stripped the driver’s seat down and replaced the broken straps and ‘repaired’ the seat with a ‘temporary’ repair of riveting it using a chunk of scrap aluminium. That was about 8 years ago though, and at the time I didn’t buy enough straps to replace the straps in the back section, so ended up selecting the least-bad of them to make the back up.

    Now whilst both seats aren’t actually too bad on their seat bases, on both of them the backs have given out hopelessly, making driving actually quite uncomfortable. Since she’s off the road for a while longer it seemed a good opportunity to fix the seat problem. It does make the tetris cushion Kathryn made me redundant from the car-comfort job, but it’s such a gorgeous cushion I quite like having it in the lounge, where it is unlikely to get quite so dirty.

    I’ve got a spare seat base which I can use to replace the temporarily repaired one, and in an exciting development (and the sole reason I got new foam) I’ve got… seat heaters. I’ve wanted them ever since experiencing the excitement of seat heaters on Chester (although they are both now, sadly, dead). I actually bought everything to do the seats except the seat heater and foam because I felt it was really an unjustifiable expense. And then I thought about it a bit more – I’m hoping not to need to strip the seats again for a very long time. Which would mean no seat heaters for a very long time. So I trawled the universe and found some reasonably priced carbon seat heaters (these seem to be the in thing in seat heating, although there’s something e-ink based elements which sound like ‘the next big thing’), with a mod suggested so that whilst there’s only one temperature control you can at least switch the two seats independently.

    I’ve also, finally, bought the liner for the glove box, which is interestingly fuzzy inside. I don’t recall the original being fuzzy (and we all know how I’m a stickler for originality ;) ). So, that’s quite exciting. Anyhow, I’m trying to persuade myself to go down to the garage, but I’m not really in the mood for attacking seats. Especially since I actually spent my birthday at work, and this morning having a few hairs zapped, I’m quite feeling like spending today reading :)

    I’m not very good at taking days off. And some days it’s nice to work on the car, but I was pretty tired yesterday (shattered, let’s be honest) and so the idea of curling up with a slice of birthday cake, a cup of tea, and a book is pretty appealing. I do need, however, to do the washing up first.

    * Although, one of my birthday gifts from Kathryn was an awesome Contemporary Upholstery book – because up under (or combined with) the pile of boxes upstairs is the remnants of a 20th century chaise longue which I’m wanting to reupholster. Just need to actually sort out the boxes first.

  • I may have upset our garage.

    Well, I’m not sure. I collected Chester yesterday, and he’s clearly much better. The handbrake’s no longer sticking (fitted with new cylinders, new handbrake cable and new shoes. Thankfully the drums survived) and so pulling away doesn’t feel like the car’s dragging it’s feet.

    However, tbh, despite it being almost a year since the last service he’s actually been running fairly well the last few weeks, so there wasn’t an awesome change in running which I have encountered after abusing cars in this way before. But normally our garage warn us when we’re nearing the 400 quid mark. Unfortunately, I think they’ve got used to the fact that we will keep Chester on the road, pretty much against the odds. That I’ll source parts for even expensive repairs (like a new front strut), because I’d much rather keep a solid old car on the road than buy a scabby but just as expensive to maintain modern car where parts are cheaper.

    So when they wandered past 400 quid they didn’t tell us this time. And the fact that their basic service is now just shy of 200 quid….didn’t help – and that it was a 12k service, not a 6k service (last time the service bit of the job was just over 50 quid +VAT).

    And then…they forgot to actually bill us for the service, so as I was quietly in pain from the £450 quid ‘service’, shortly after I pulled up to the house they rang and said ‘oh, we forgot to bill you for the actual service’. I said that my invoice said ‘service’ on it, because I thought it did and had been looking through old invoices to decide how much whimpering I should do…

    …and offered to go check. And got in the car, instantly apologised, and then when he said it was 200 quid extra I believe the words out of my mouth were ‘How much?! On top of the £400?!’. I may have said ‘Are you serious!’, although I’m not sure. I paid it though, obviously. But I’ve really got to get back to servicing the car myself. Doing the brakes would have been hassley, but it’s definitely within my sphere of competence. The service itself is pretty easy stuff, and probably would have been no problem.

    It’s just adjusting those vario-belts that gets me.

    Anyhow. I just have to remind myself that in general he’s cheaper to run than a modern car, unless we did the evil ‘run it until it dies and replace’ model of car ownership. And that our insurance is “insanely low” because he’s old enough to be covered under a multi-car classic policy.

    But I’m still holding out slightly on buying the replacement parts that he still needs, there are two tie bar bushes (currently hard rubber, will be replaced with polybushes because sports stuff is much more easily sourced) and similarly there’s a brake hose that needs replacing. P’raps once the minor’s out of the garage I’ll force myself down there and work on Chester.

    …

    On the Minor front, one of the two packages of ‘stuff’ I ordered for her have arrived. I might consider going down there once I’ve done my day’s cleaning duties to p’raps get one of the seats into usable condition. I was having temptation to fit a heated seat, but having considered it I think if I were to do that I should have got new flame-retardant seat foam (which I have not) and thus it should probably wait.

    When the other package of ‘stuff’ arrives, the ‘new’ diff can go in, and the car should be mobile. Although she may need a new battery, I think I’ve somewhat hurt that one. She does need a wash, and she needs a polish too…

    Then I can get back to cutting up wood for the house.

    …

    My main plan for today was to work on the garden, but it’s raining, which is upsetting. If it stops I may go and force chunks of wood thorough our chipper.

  • The plants, the car, the horror and the job.

    So we’re well into the time of year when we should have little tomato shoots sprouting and growing up towards the sky. Only we’ve not. We’ve got packets all out and sorted ready – and once I’ve warmed up again I’ll start working on planting, but as usual we did the dumb-ass thing we normally do. We left the propagator bases outside. And some of them seem to have gone missing. I’m not sure where they are, which is somewhat upsetting. We appear to have most of them though…

    I’ve just been trailing round the garden, which was quite fun when the sun was out (despite the layer of ice on the water out there – can I point out that it’s march, and I don’t really expect to see a layer of ice on water). But it became distinctly less fun when the sun went in and the clouds rolled over (as they are wont to do at the moment).

    Having located them, then comes the job of getting them clean enough to be in the house. This is one of the things you’d think we’d learn. After a few years of our version of gardening (largely plant many things, see what survives) you’d think that we’d have worked out that leaving the propagators outside leads to them getting covered in dirt, and the little clear plastic covers getting broken. We did better this year, just the bases were outside, and one cover (that I think we couldn’t find last year) was lurking under a pile of scrap wood. Yes, our garden is a disaster area, thank you for asking.

    Also, on the plus side, I found our missing trowel. It went missing at some point during planting last year, which was obviously upsetting, and it appears to have been covered by ‘a lot’ of dirt. However, the miserable rain we’ve had washed off enough that I went ‘hang on a minute, that looks like a trowel’ today, and lo, there it was.

    So yay.

    Unfortunately, being out there for even the half hour or so that I was has demonstrated that my cough is not better, however much I might hope. I have come back in to sit in the relative warmth of the house, and having settled back in my cough has settled back down, but it was tedious for a little while. My nose, also, seems to have decided to spend today running. I’m not sure where it’s trying to get, but it seems to want to get there fast. Feh.

    Anyhow, today we shall try for planting tomatoes, and anything else which proclaims “Plant in march”. Although a lot of things say “Plant in late march, after the threat of frost has passed” which, given that it’s April in a couple of days, and that there’s still a good layer of ice on the bucket of water outside (no, there’s no good reason for us having a large bucket of water outside), I’d say that threat’s not quite passed yet.

    I’ve also made a list/shopping basket on our favoured mud suppliers, this is because we need more mud. Lots more mud. Mud and gravel. And they have 10% off this weekend, so when my beloved arrives home I’m inclined to consider ordering a big pile of mud and gravel. I suspect, actually, we need much more than is in my ‘shopping basket’ at the moment, but as the order already comes to 300 quid, I think I best stop there.

    So that is task one for the day. I also used the ‘searching for the garden stuff in the garage’ opportunity to hook Rebecca back up to the slow-charger, so that when the ‘new’ differential arrives (winging its way from Berkshire, it is) I can install it, and she will be able to move. Of course, this means that I also need to place the scary big order from Bull Motif – because frankly I’m fed up of my arse nearly touching the floor from the failed seat-straps. Also, I’m fed up of water dripping on me from the roof, I’d rather it ran down the inside of the roof-lining and disappeared down the water runs. I’d no idea there was so much condensation on the inside of the roof. Also, one of the sound-deadening panels has dripped something manky down the door (glue, I imagine) which needs cleaning. Oh, and I’d quite like the radio to work, rather than just being ornamental, which means fitting the kick panels where the speakers are meant to live. On top of this list of minor (ha) list of parts, she also needs new seals and I think I should fit new bearings to the axle, given that the old ones were subject to the fine-fine grit of a disintegrated differential.

    I’m hoping that someone’ll buy the old diff on E-bay for ‘money’, although I imagine not.

    So, the other job I’m working towards tackling whilst I’m laid low with this cough (I don’t really want to be sanding stuff and faffing about on ladders when I’m hacking up a lung) is The Horror. This is The Horror:

    The Horror

    See, when I moved out of my parents house I boxed up a lot of stuff. And when my dad died, I boxed up some of his stuff. And when I moved to Slough, I boxed up a bunch of stuff. And when Kathryn moved in, we left some of her stuff boxed up.

    A couple of those boxes are CD and DVD boxes. They’re easy: Strip artwork out, plastic for freecycle or recycle, artwork into a much smaller box (when we settle finally, I’d like a music library with all the albums out and nicely shelved). DVD’s I’m not so sure I’ll want out – because with film I’m not so bothered about the medium. Purely digital media doesn’t bother me at all for film – although I would like a more reliable method of backing it up (really that’s just a case of sucking it up and paying for a decent RAID array). Some of the boxes are books. Many, many photos. It’s just a case with them of sucking it up, sorting through them – keeping a few that might want to be album’d, chucking most and storing the negatives. Some of the boxes are assorted ornaments and desk stuff – which are largely going to be an awful nightmare to sort. I’m trying to build up the willpower to get a box down and start. The idea is, if I can do one or two boxes a day, then I should be through the pile in not very long and meet our requirement that nothing goes up in the attic except, possibly, my dad’s prototype computer hardware which I want to display but have yet to obtain the means to do so. I suppose one of those 1930’s glass / bow fronted cabinets would be the best bet :)

    No where to put one in this house though! I quite like the idea of that, in my final office space though. A little miniature museum of old tech. Hrm.

    Then there’s the job. See, I applied for a Senior Staff Nurse position, and I came second. This in itself is not unusual. I’ve come second a lot in job interviews. I came second in a position with the BBC (they said “if the person turns it down or their references don’t work out, we’d like to contact you”… they never did though). I have come second in lots of SSN positions – which has meant that I’ve been offered senior positions later, without interview. This time, I’m actually in a position to take the rather nice and suddenly offered second place prize – which is 2 months of the job that I applied for. For the person who’s got the job can’t start for 2 and a half months, so the plan is that in half-a-month I’ll do the job for 2 months. Which is both scary and exciting, and mentally leaves me thinking “Oh god it’ll be a disaster”. Which just goes to show I should have more faith in myself, because I did the role when I was working in Reading.

    Incidentally, the reason I came second? I didn’t ‘sell myself’. This does not come as a huge surprise.

    Uh, so, that’s my ramble for the day.

  • For informational purposes

    Just in case anyone has one kicking around, and for future reference. The axles that I’m interested in are on volvo 240s of the following flavours:

    1976-79 240 with B21 and any transmission: 3.91:1 type 1030
    1980 240’s with B21A/F and M45/6: 3.91:1 type 1030
    1980 240’s with B21F and A/BW55: 3.73:1 type 1030
    1981 240’s with B21F non-MPG: 3.73:1 type 1030
    1981-82 240’s with B21F-MPG and AW55/70: 3.91:1 type 1030

    (Courtesy of: here)

  • Fleshing out the bones

    So, News:

    Untitled

    The Seager Brother’s piano is now in tune. Ish. Close enough for jazz, as they say. Apparently it’s a little flat, but it – our tuner reckons – has always been a little flat. Or at least, sufficiently always as to not be a good idea to change her. And whilst yesterday I said I didn’t recall whether previous tuners had mentioned it (the poor beast was last tuned at least 6 years ago – and by my mum’s piano tuner), I do faintly recall her mentioning it.

    The hammer, which we thought went missing when @aminorjourney was giving it a thorough work out (and was definitely not the first hammer to break in it) apparently didn’t. I thought, honestly was convinced that Nikki and I had checked out all the notes, and that they’d been working. Apparently not. Apparently it went missing at some point before that. At any rate, our illustrious tuner will be returning with a spare hammer and, most excitingly, a music stand. I’ve had this piano about 31 years, and at no point has it had a music stand. It came with the broken remnants of one, and we’d always bull-dog clip the music to it, and when I was practicing longer pieces, my dad would sit next to me to flip the pages (and remind me to actually practice). Eventually, we got my dad’s piano, which was in substantially better condition (but ended up being difficult to make keep tune, because it was wood framed and the wood had dried out), and ‘my’ piano went to live in the garage*. It’s been submerged in 3 foot of water (the flood waters reached approximately a metre deep in my mum’s house, which would have been lapping at the base of the keyboard), ferried around in the back of a transit having been (wo)man handled into the back of a truck off a forklift. If you can abuse it in some way, it’s been abused in that way.

    The previous owners took a power-sander to one end. I mean, really. A power sander on a 1891 piano.

    Untitled

    *shudder*

    Incidentally, that looks to me like July 1891 Jubilee. I got quite excited for a second by the concept that it might have been for the Austro-Hungarian jubilee exhibition. I mean, that would be pretty nifty, but July’s too late. That was in May. The only Jubilee I know of in 1891 is Punch magazine, and what they’d be doing with a Piano from a small piano maker I don’t know, so I can’t imagine an obvious connection there. I’ve always been intrigued, though, by that marking.

    Anyhow, she now sounds like a piano. I’m sure professional musicians would be sadly disappointed in what I consider adequately in tune. But I am satisfied that she sounds like a piano.

    Sufficiently so that I spent some time attacking the ivories**. First Tom Lehrer, because I need some inspiration. Then some ‘Joy of Piano’ simplified fluff – but what was pleasing about that was that despite my keyboard ineptitude, something akin to music did come out at several points. It was, at least, not totally unrecognisable. I had some idea that it was (a) music and (b) a chunk of the New World Symphony.

    Which was enormously gratifying. Sufficiently so that despite my achy fingers, I shall endeavour to continue this ‘practicing’ m’larkey up.

    Ivories tickled... On with the rest of the day :)

    In other news. Rebecca. *sigh*.

    What to do with a problem like Rebecca.

    No, seriously. Taking a step back and reducing the panic to a more manageable level, because staring a massive bill in the face (and weeping) is what I’ve been trying to contend with. What I have to remember, and tend to forget, because I’m ridiculously impatient, is that I don’t need her back on the road right now. Yes, I want her back on the road. Yes, I do. Because I like driving my beloved minor. It’s that simple.

    But that is not actually a requirement. We/I am not without transport. I have Molly to get around the city on, and Chester for longer trips. Kathryn, despite the train’s many failings*** take Chester only on Sundays when the train service moves from overpriced bucket of crap to unusable bucket of crap (with a free side of insultingly overpriced).

    So. Stepping back, let’s look at the big picture.

    The big picture is the Warp 9″ motor going in once we’re in Canada; until then we’re going to keep using the 1275 with a fast-road-cam. This engine is marginal on the standard Morris/Wolsey/Riley diff. Those diffs were mated with, and were considered just-strong-enough for 83ft/lb torque and 55bhp (more or less; the rated output of a 1.5l B series engine), the engine in Rebecca should give about 75ft/lb and 70bhp. So theoretically, if I drive ‘like a nun’, it should hold together. And I don’t tend to thrash her wildly anymore, because I’m not in that much of a hurry to get anywhere.

    However, putting in a standard diff with the 9″ Warp motor is going to be hysterically metal shaving inducing. That dinky little electric motor (which I can’t lift) provides 152ft/lbs of torque and 82Hp. That will turn the standard diff into powdered metal quicker’n I can get the car off the ramps. So that’s a big fat no.

    But what has been flagged up to me is that Volvo 240s do a very nice limited slip differential, which comes in a range of ratios (an insanely large range of ratios) and are built like battleships. They’re unpopular only insofar as no-one ever needs to replace them (apart from the guys who use them to build hot-rods and thrash them mercilessly).

    I’ve let the Capri axle I was looking at go, because it’s apparently an English diff, not an Atlas one, and that would have been a touch marginal on the torque/strength side. I suspect my dad’s Escort, which ate diffs, probably had the English Diff, judging by the comments from the rallying crowd. (If anyone ever sees SBH392R****, I’ve got some nice pics of her, although I imagine she’s scrap by now. Easily recognisable, said ‘FOFD’ on the boot, thanks to Ford’s awesome quality control).

    Anyway, meandering somewhat.

    So, the question is, do I try and pick up a Volvo 240 axle (complete with axle etc), get it shortened (apparently you can get it shortened to minor lengths without trimming the half shafts, which is excellent news), and mounts made, and a special prop shaft… now.

    Or do I spend 70-80 quid on a second hand diff of unknown provenance, and throw it in, and just see how I get on for the time being, and do the Volvo axle later.

    I’m tempted by getting her on the road, but really that’s a waste of money that I don’t have spare.

    Mmm.

    Needs more thought, I feel.

    Incidentally, the place I rang about Volvo parts don’t think they have a 240 axle in, at the moment…

    * I’m often stunned at how tolerant my parents were of me. Things I had that were of no use at all throughout my childhood included massive chunks of CTL Mini computers, A manual telephone exchange operator’s desk, a spare piano (in case, what, the other one rolled off or joined the circus?), and eventually a rusted out heap of a Morris Minor… more on that momentarily.

    ** I’d say ‘tickling’, but it was more like a masacre. I’d no idea how rusty I’d got. Then there are the terribly amusing pauses as I stare at the music and try and work out which note that is meant to be, and whether I’m playing it.

    *** And believe me, there are many and manifold ones.

    **** It’s funny how that plate has stuck in my head. I can’t remember the numbers off my mum’s Fiat 126 – that was HNK…Y, and the other cars my parents had never stuck with me. But the Fofd, that was bought because my mum was pregnant with me, and that old Austin A40 wasn’t big enough (also was rusting away – indeed the front wing was made, partially, out of wood, I’m told).

  • Sometimes I imagine that Rebecca hates me

    So, I know, in my heart of hearts that my car is not a person. I know she is no more a person than the piano stool, and the personality I imbue her with is merely a reflection of myself and the miriad mechanical parts of which she is made, and some distillation of the many and various people who’ve worked on her over her many years on this Earth (and their standards of quality, and what is ‘good enough’).

    I know this.

    I know this because I am not insane, and am only a moderately foolish person.

    I know that when I feel that broken down vehicles are sad, or lonely, that again is a reflection of my own emotions rather than something that is inherent in them.

    But still, after the vast amount of money sunk into Rebecca, the fact she’s fairly thoroughly broken again, and that having had discussions with various (more experienced) sorts than me have led me to the conclusion that it’s not worth replacing the differential that was in the car, because the engine has sufficient umph that it will probably eat it for breakfast. Which’d be 450 quid drainwards. And even if it didn’t, the 150lb/ft / 82Hp Warp 9″ motor sat in the garage and awaiting fitting will not merely eat the riley differential for breakfast, it will devour it, its kin (including distant and far-flung relations) and then set fire to the family home before going on a merry diff destroying rampage.

    So instead, I’m contemplating other rear-axle options.

    Which is sad, I liked the fact that apart from the engine and front brakes, my minor would remain essentially minor. But I don’t think that spending a fortune on a new diff to have it turned into freshly ground steel is a terribly wise plan.

    Thoughts at the moment are:

    – Ford Escort / Capri diff – this has the advantage of there being bolt-on kits available, and also of only needing the half-shafts modifying to fit the Morris Minor’s wheel’s PCD. Also – I’ve been offered one for £100 plus shipping, which has only covered 65k miles… I’m taking this as ‘not bad’. I’d need new (custom) handbrake cables, flexible brake pipes, and a new prop shaft made up, and a mounting kit, but that should be about it. The mounting kit is off-the-shelf, and spares are plentiful because people use the Escort diff for rallying…

    – Volvo 240 Diff – this was suggested by Jonny Smith who’s doing the awesome flux capacitor – which was once my Enfield*. The 240 axle would need shortening, but would be insanely tough. It also would mean the minor would be disk braked all round… which is excessive! The cost saving of buying a 240 diff and axle would probably be lost in shortening it and making up mounts, because there’s no 240 axle fitting kit.

    I’m currently talking to someone about a Capri diff, for which they want 100 quid for it – it’s from a car that only covered 65k miles, but it’s an English, not an Atlas differential. Apparently the Atlas diff is the stronger variant… And I need to perhaps ring a few places to work out how much the 240 diff might be to convert.

    And then, well, we’ll see.

    But still, sometimes I think that she hates me!

    * I wish to point out that it was the owner prior to my mum that put the Rover grille on the Enfield, not us!

  • Post nights delight

    So, whilst I was on my nights I came across this sign, which actually caused me near physical discomfort. It made parts of my brain really, really uncomfortable and I came away from it with that kind of flickering twitchyness that comes from something inherently wrong existing.

    Untitled

    Yes, yes! Fear the kerning disaster. I just want to run over and *FIX* it. I’m guessing it ‘looked fine in word’. I blame this on my graphic-design-in-my-youth-to-20s/technical writing history. This is why we don’t use word people, because it’s a bucketload of shit*.

    Thankfully, there were nice staff on shift to take my mind off the horror ;)

    Also, Bristol decided to bless me with a gorgeous (if cold) day as I cycled home…

    Home time (@fuckyeahbristol)

    Insanity is just seconds away. (@fuckyeahbristol)

    Today is my post-nights day off, and then tomorrow is the joy of painting. Hopefully I can get it all finished tomorrow, (if two coats are sufficient for both the ceiling and the walls), then Sunday I can put the light up… Tuesday, when Kathryn’s home, we could pop the phone on the wall – then it’ll be the shelves under the stairs after that. But finishing the major work in the hall means we can properly clean the house, apart from Kathryn’s office… which will be awesome

    Nikki is suggesting she may be free for a bit on Sunday, which may mean that I finally find the time and energy to remove the diff from Rebecca, so she can get back on the road.

    I also need to resist this. If we were staying here, that might actually be impossible. But I keep reminding myself that whist it falls into the category of ‘we could get it going for under 3k’, it would not fulfil the “could replace Chester for Kathryn’s work” requirement – which requires a top speed of at least 60 and a range of at least 40 miles. Also, as time goes on, the 3k requirement becomes a smaller and smaller value, because the amount we’d save by having an EV drops since we won’t be here as long to recoup the funds…

    But a Reliant Rebel EV, that’s pretty cool. Not as cool as the DAF EV, but much better converted, looking at it. Mind, that’s not hard.

    * Personal opinion, YMMV.

  • The oddness of the bathrooom

    So, for the past 2 years we’ve not really had a full bathroom. Yes, technically, it has met the criteria for being a bathroom. It has a bath, a toilet, and a sink. Indeed, I think that bar maybe the odd day, it’s been fully functioning.

    However, it’s not had a floor for most of the time that we’ve lived here, and nor, since the plastering was done, has it had wall coverings. Indeed, it’s generally been a bit unpleasant to be in.

    Since completing the bathroom, it’s had this odd ‘does that belong here’ sensation that it brings up in my head. When I get to the top of the stairs (and it doesn’t help that the upstairs hall is entirely filled with tools) the bathroom feels finished, and very nice, and the top of the stairs is…although it’s actually more or less finished (minus the skirting) it’s just got that ‘unfinished’ feel. It feels strange. It does, in my head at least, feel like the bathroom is an entirely separate entity from the house. Of course, it will settle down and mentally merge. I’m getting more used to it. I’m getting used to the toilet paper being on a holder on the wall. I’m happily used to getting into the shower (oh, showers, how I’ve missed thee).

    But it still feels quite odd to have a finished bathroom.

    In other news, the GT550 is sold and awaiting a trip to its new owner.

  • Working hard or hardly working?

    So, I had mentally scheduled (indeed I’d actually scheduled) today to work on RebeccaMog. Having sucked it up and accepted that we’re not going to have her EVified before we go to Nova Scotia, she needs to be made roadworthy again and today’s plan was to strip out the diff. However, you may be aware that it’s snowed here. It’s snowed, and the temperature is indicated to be -1 (“feels like -3”). Given that the gas cylinder in the heater ran out a while back and this would involve significant lying on the floor I decided that discretion was the better part of valour*. There’s also the factor of the GT550. It is on e-bay and will hopefully be whisked off by the next time I have a couple of days off so there should be some more space in the garage to work, which will be nice. Although I’m really going to miss having a motorbike. It’s one of those things that’s become part of my identity and not having the bike is kinda weird. Dyke with a bike, only no bike**. Meh.

    Anyhow, so, that not being on the list, the vacuum was instantly filled by many other little jobs. So I spent some time (quite a lot of time, really) fixing the old Dead Bug Jumping podcast. Whilst I couldn’t find a speed changing plugin for Ardour, I could find one for Audacity. And while Audacity feels very…basic…now, after Ardour, and I spent quite a lot of time going “Argh” as things work differently in each application, Dead Bug Jumping now sports a complete set of updated podcast episodes with the first track playing at some approximation of the right speed. It is only an approximation – but given the variability of gramophone playback, I’m not too worried. The new episodes are recorded at a stroboscopically checked 78rpm, so that shouldn’t be a problem again.

    That essentially took up the morning, but I did take a moment to put our meter readings on our utility supplier’s billing page, and then saw a ‘how do you compare’ kind of thing. And if you’ll forgive me a moment’s smugness:

    Mmm, smug much?

    Mmm, smug much?

    Now, it’s not wholly accurate, because our last months reading was much higher than expected (although, to be fair, it’s been sodding freezing, and our heating is struggling to keep pace (one heater down, missing internal doors, it’s all not good for it). But I’m quite pleased about that. We’re doing quite well. Combine that with our reduced car usage (Kathryn commutes in it once a week) and my fairly committed cycling to work (although the cycling through the snow probably suggests I should be committed, rather than am committed), local food shopping, and habit of buying most things second hand and so on, and I’m feeling that for once we’re actually starting to do our bit. There’s much more that we could and should do, but until we get moved and settled, I don’t feel this is a bad place to be.

    This is obviously the appropriate moment to segue directly into my consumerism. Heh. So, I am weak. Whatever… ;)

    No, seriously. The Superpad III has continued it’s previously unsullied run of disappointment, continuing to be crap and randomly not working very well. I have to say it’s the worst piece of tech I’ve ever owned, and I really, really, really wish I could have found a solution that used the (now sold) iPaq. But the plan was (at least in my head) to pick up a slimp3:

    slimp3

    I’ve even had logitech’s Squeezebox Server running on the music server in the optimistic hope it might attract a slimp3 to the house. Now, I’d given in and started considering that maybe a Squeezebox 1 would do. It is no-where near as pretty as the slimp3, but it would work, and it would mean I could free up that end of the book shelf, and get rid of some trailing wires, and also flog off the Superpad. All a win.

    I’ve been trying to win one on e-bay to no avail, really, and then I came across this. Which is disappointing. See, logitech, you nearly had me. I may well still pick one up, because I’m not relying on it for internet radio, and obsolete technology’s pretty much par for the course in our house. But for once I was nearly sucked into a modern device. Granted, I reckoned the first iteration, long discontinued, was the one I wanted. But Logitech have handily saved me from that slippery slope.

    Anyhow, most of the day has been spent doing paperwork. I’ve reapplied (for the third time) for the tax relief allowed to nurses (and a reclaim for the past 6 years (working up to 7)). You’re only normally allowed to claim for 5 years, but since I applied in 2008, and in 2009, and in both cases they lost the form, I’ve stated that I still want my tax reclaim to go back to 2006. I’d put it off so long because it means actually trawling through bank statement after bank statement – although I realised after a bit that my subscription to the Emergency Nursing journal, whist it changes price, it only changes once a year, so I only needed to find the cost for each year. And then having checked my UNISON subs, and found they’re the same in the first year as they are now (bargain!), I just stuck the same amount in for each year. That, therefore, did not take near as long as I thought it would (although there was still a fair amount of trawling). Also, thankfully, it turns out the NMC registration price has apparently remained unchanged every year. Which surprised me, because I thought it had gone up. But the website I found said ‘same price every year, back to 1996, when there was a massive price hike. So that all made life simpler. Of course, then I had to have 4 stabs at writing a letter to say what I wanted which didn’t say “I got heartily sick of pissing around trying to get you to contact me on a day when I was at home, since you refused to give me a direct dial number and would only do a ‘we will ring back within a few days’ thing”.

    I managed to get it down to faintly irritated with an apology for being slightly irritated. Which I thought wasn’t too bad.

    So that’s now in an envelope awaiting the tender ministrations of the post office.

    I’ve also faxed various documents to Canada (to WES). I don’t know if you’re allowed to fax documents to them, but it seemed a bit pointless to mail them photocopies. I can do it if they want, but hey. It doesn’t say you can’t fax them.

    I also sent the NMC more money, because I love them so. Or alternatively because they wanted more money to send things to Nova Scotia. As I suspected the “we’ll send it to multiple places’ only applies if you do them all at the same time. Feh. Feh, I say.

    All in all, it’s been a wildly dull day, really. And now I’m sat ripping CDs again, before cooking dinner. I’ve managed to make myself feel that faint unwell that comes from spending the entire day inside looking at a computer with a fire going. And then I’m back at work more than normal this week (this is one of the make-up-shift weeks for the slight under-hours I do by working 12 hour shifts). Which is why I’d put off starting the hall until this week is done, because after Sunday I should have enough days off to get the hallway finished. Which would be really a very nice treat.

    * or calor, given that it’s a calor gas heater….
    ** Unless we include the 1930’s pushbike collection, which brings to mind an entirely different dykey image.

  • Days off

    Days off still feel a bit of an oddity. I allowed myself a break between the slog of the bathroom and starting the hallway, because I thought this is probably good for my sanity. In it I’ve cleaned the house, I’ve moved the website (wordpress used to be in a subdirectory, it’s now not) and upgraded wordpress (and applied a new theme, which I’m not sure about at the moment, but is the theme that I’m trying. It’s a suck-it-and-see approach*). I’ve listed my Kawasaki GT-550 on e-bay (*whimper*). I’ve been to Two Day Coffee and got more coffee. I’ve been to Maplin and got possibly the worst power tool I’ve ever owned – a battery dremel clone (and been slightly stunned to find that it’s got an AC-adaptor**, rather than a DC adaptor, which means I’ll have to look at the guts of the charger to see if I can take it to Canada. The only reason I got it, rather than any other Dremel clone, is I thought it would be useful to take to Canada. I didn’t get an actual Dremel because Kathryn already owns one, so spending twice as much on something that duplicates what we’ve already got, not handy. Although, as we’ve already considered, probably vastly better quality).

    I’ve worked on the clock*** (which I’m going to continue doing after this) and I’ve tried to rejoin the nursing agency. I’ve written some more of the next episode of Dead Bug Jumping, and I’ve installed and started to toy with a new media server. I’ve ripped another 10 CDs and done 3 loads of laundry (and am pondering a fourth).

    I’m not quite sure I’ve got the hang of this ‘Days off’ concept.

    * The result of which may be that it sucks. I’ve got through four themes so far today.
    ** Which outputs 6volts at 50hz. What’s up with that? I’m assuming that, somewhere in the guts of the hideous plastic base object, there’s a rectifier.
    *** Which is for-why I bought the dremel clone. Because the new clock mechanism doesn’t fit in the space previously occupied by the old clock mechanism.