First task of the day was to pull the neck on the last of our chickens. It was an ancient Minorca who was well past her prime. I don't think she had laid an egg for a very long time and, consequently, was of no use to Kathy. I really don't like killing anything so this was a job that I was not looking forward to. It was a quick death, but it doesn't get any easier.
Next on the list was a trip in to Redditch to pick up milk, diesel and a crook lock for the Defender. The Station Wagon may have two immobilisers and an alarm, but it is currently parked in the lay-by as our drive is blocked by Hayden's skip. I much prefer a visible deterrent as well as the electronic measures to put off the ne'er-do-wells.
Having finished running around, and resolving a misunderstanding about the Defender's jack,* I found time to settle with the Enfield's rear light and indicators. I finally had all necessary connectors, grommets and other shit that would allow me to run the cable under the mud guard, exit through a neatly drilled hole and connect up to the lights. So I spent a happy hour snipping off the old bullet connectors, threading the cable through the hole in the mud guard and holding it in place with the cable tie mounts I had epoxied in place a week ago.
Progress was disturbed by lunch and then 30% and I headed out around a wet and blustery Three Miler with the dogs. Upon our return I was persuaded to assist TP with his latest escapade …
… One of his friends was selling their drum kit at a give-away price so the Defender was required to perform load lugging duties. I let TP drive and he declared the Land Rover even more invincible than the last one as he trundled around the village. We took a minor detour so that we could dispose of the chicken carcass out on the Three Miler where the foxes will take it away. A few minutes later we pulled up at his friend's house. Money changed hands and the drum kit was loaded in to the Defender while I was hassled by a rather senile grand mother who a) wouldn't leave me alone and b) wouldn't shut the fuck up. As we drove off TP opined that "they are all fucking crazy, apart from Frank".
Back at home I returned to the Enfield's rear light. I finished crimping the new connectors and went on to finally bolt the rear mud guard in to place. The lights were connected up and the number plate carrier was bolted on. I went on to connect the battery and test my wiring … It all worked perfectly, first time.
|It has taken me weeks to get this sorted|
I am so looking forward to our week in Wales.
---* It has a tiny bottle jack, stowed by the battery, rather than the four foot long, high lift jack I was expecting to see stowed under the second row seating.