I wonder how my back will be on Monday?

30% has taken the decision to sleep in the spare room during the early phases of her recovery. This is understandable as I too would be nervous of being bumped in the night if I had an eight inch wound down the centre of my abdomen. As a consequence I am sleeping relatively alone* and am amazed at how well I have slept. I do wake in the night when I hear 30% on bathroom visits but I go straight back to sleep and it was gone eight o'clock before I woke this morning.

After a leisurely start to the day, I donned hat and coat and headed outside where I spent a couple of hours stacking the logs that had been delivered earlier in the week.** These are now relatively snug under a tarpaulin and as I finished I muttered the necessary hexes that would bring pain and discomfort on any git that failed to re-cover the stack or in any way caused the tidy cuboid to collapse or be exposed to the weather.***

I had the remainder of the morning free and finally got around to spending some time working on the Enfield. This morning's job  was something of a landmark as it definitely fell in to the category of assembly rather than deconstruction or refurbishment. Today I reinserted the bearing races back in to the frame's neck tube. It is a small, but critical, step forward as this needs to be done before the engine is dropped back in to the frame.

The afternoon saw a walk around the Three Miler with TP and the dogs before I returned to the Enfield. I spent a few minutes applying a coat of black enamel paint to one of the engine mounting plates and then headed out to the garage and recommenced the polishing of the engine cases. The plan is bring the motor in to the house at some point over Christmas so I can paint the gearbox mounting plate … then reassembly can really commence.

The evening saw 30% and I join forces to cook dinner before we spent an evening in front of the TV.

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* With Tyson, Marauder and Whiffler in the house one never sleeps alone.  I woke this morning with Tyson curled up alongside me.
** Tuesday
*** TP, this means you!

Will She, Won't She?

I was up and about fairly early on Saturday morning and could be found heading towards Stratford well before none o'clock.

First stop was at the market to collect the stuffed crocodile that I had carelessly abandoned a couple of weeks ago. It was then a quick rip around the supermarket to ensure that we had the basics in the store cupboard;  beer,  hummus, tortillas … all the crap we eat instead of proper food. I then hit the road with the aim of heading over to Worcester to collect 30%.

As I was about to drive in to the village my 'phone rang … It was TP who advised that 30% had been trying to get hold of me for the last hour. I pulled up on The Pile's drive and called the patient. 30% advised that she might have an infection and that her discharge* was to be delayed, hopefully just until later on today. I was instructed to go about my business.

TP and I unpacked the groceries and lunched before heading off around the Three Miler for a much needed walk with the dogs. Neither Tyson, Marauder nor I had walked since last weekend and we are all looking quite rotund. We really need to improve our exercise regime. As we walked my mobile rang … It was 30%, who advised that she was to be checked later in the day by her Consultant and I should ring around six o'clock for an update.

An hour later we were back at The Pile and had just about de-booted and sought refreshments when the dogs started to bark. I headed towards the back door and was greeted by SMS peering through the gap between frame and door. She and Bad Man Senior had called to pay 30% a visit. They stopped and chatted for the best part of an hour before heading home and, to be honest, I then crashed on the sofa for the remainder of the afternoon.

As six o'clock approached I called 30% and she advised that she was being discharged and I could head over to Worcester to collect her. Shortly after seven we were all back home and attempting to calm a very excitable three dogs who were overjoyed to greet their returning Mistress.

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* no pun intended

Good News

Early in to the "working" day Whiffler yipped which suggested that he needed a pee. I dutifully responded and wandered outside with him. He is a little sod and, even though he needs to pee, will arse around the garden rather than do what he is supposed to be doing. I therefore needed to give him the appropriate command to ensure he "performed".

While this was going on I noticed how bloody cold it was, so I wandered over to the pile of logs that had been delivered earlier in the week and collected a few … having a log burner in the office is a wonderful thing. I wandered back to the house, deposited the logs in the porch and called Whiffler. I was amused to see him race around the corner of the house with a piece of kindling in his jaws. I know it is anthropomorphism but it was as though he was helping me to bring in wood for the fire.

It was a fairly quiet day and I managed to find time to prepare a Shepherd's Pie for dinner during the midday lull.

I managed to escape from the laptop shortly after four o'clock and then had to endure the nightmare crawl down Worcester's London Road towards the hospital. It must have taken me an hour to complete a drive that normally takes twenty minutes.

30% was doing well and her Consultant dropped in while I was visiting. The good news is that after checking her over he feels that she will be able to come home tomorrow.

Apparently I am in charge ...

It is strange waking alone when used to having someone sleep beside you.*

30% is hospital for a few days having had planned surgery on Wednesday. I popped in to see her last night for a few minutes and she seemed pretty good … very groggy, but pretty good considering she had spent a good few hours on an operating table. So, as the title of this Journal entry suggests, apparently I am in charge.

First executive decision of my tenure was that I couldn't be arsed to drop in to the nearest Depot today. Fortunately the God of Proxy Settings** smiled down from above and my laptop agreed to connect to the internet as well as the corporate intranet. This meant that I could semi--fill my day working through some mandated training as the completion deadline is fast approaching.

I had a quick chat with 30% early in the day and she sounded pretty good although she had had a disturbed night as she continues to recover from the effects of the anaesthetic.

I continued my day which mostly involved listening to a series of presentations from an overly personable American. If I am honest I must admit that I tend to multi task and tune him out for much of the time … there are no tests at the end of these lectures!

At lunchtime I threw together a lazy man's curry*** for TP and my supper before heading back to my desk and volunteering to help a colleague on a new project as he will be on holiday next week. A short while after that my Boss IM'd me and asked me to let him know how my colleague got on with the aforementioned project … Hmmm! That raises all sorts of questions and perhaps concerns.

As the afternoon progressed the 'phone rang … it was 30% with a declaration of boredom and a demand that I bring in packets of cheese and onion crisps … Christ she is going to be a bloody nightmare during her period of enforced convalescence. It is fair to say that 30% is piss poor at just relaxing and I think we will need to drug her and tie her to a chair during the early stages of her recovery.

TP and I popped in to pay her a visit during the early evening before heading home for the curry and an evening of Man TV.

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* Mind you I slept like the proverbial log … 30% is not the quietest of sleeping partners!
** One of the more mysterious members of the Pantheon of IT Deities. No-one is quite sure what this God does but they bloody well know when he/she is vexed and wreaks vengeance on his/her worthless worshippers. Pay heed and make regular offerings!
*** Sauce in a jar variety

30% goes under the knife

It was an early start today, as 30% needed to check in to The Spire Hospital in Worcester at 7.30 sharp. Needless to say we then spent a hushed thirty minutes in a full-to-capacity waiting room before she was finally escorted to her room. I lingered for a while, leaving after she had received visits from the Catering Manager and her Consultant.

I was back home by nine o'clock and made a start on my working day. There is not a huge amount to report on the work front and around midday I checked in with the hospital to see how things were going. At this point I should mention that the Surgeon had indicated that she would be first or second on today's list, so to be told that she was still in theatre didn't exactly raise concerns but did make me think that her operation had been more complex than originally thought.*

I phoned again a couple of hours later and was again told that she was still in theatre. I wouldn't say that this had me panicking but it is fair to say that my level of concern increased. It was finally four o'clock before the status changed and I was advised that she was in the recovery suite and should be back down in her room in the next half an hour … that was a relief.

I popped in for a fleeting visit some time between five and six o'clock. It is fair to say that there is huge difference in one's level of reassurance moving from being told that "all went well" to actually being able to make my own layman's assessment. 30% was to be found zonked out in her room. She was connected to a variety of drips and monitoring devices but she looked pretty good and as soon as she spoke it was apparent that she was fine … for someone who had just spent a good chunk of the day on an operating table having had a surgeon rummage through her innards.

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* Her Surgeon had advised that the fibroid was 16 cm x 16 cm x 10 cm but it's precise location was not accurately determined. It could be straightforward to remove or complex if it had become entangled with other organs.

Should I be doing this?

I spent much of this morning pulling together an overview of the latest RFP for presentation to my Boss. In this line of business no-one really likes to say "no" to an opportunity but as I trawled through my notes and applied a bit of common sense it was very much as case of insufficient time and resources to develop a solution for this let alone being able to deliver it should we win it.

As I have already said, nobody wants to hear "no" so I set out my case saying that we should really reject the piece but the best way forward would be for us to demand clear and concise requirements for the required solution elements and we would do our best. No commitments would be made until the request was clarified and that needed to be immediate in view of the fact that this would need to be worked over a period when most people are more interested in turkey and presents.

As I intimated in yesterday's entry, I didn't like the timescales associated with this opportunity. I had discovered that the RFP had been delivered in the second half of October but it had taken the Opportunity Team until the second week of December to come to us for assistance … talk about getting the shitty end of the stick!

The RFP was also for a client outside of the Industry Sector Team in which I work. My experiences with the last RFP demonstrated that getting resources within the Sector Team can be hard enough so very early in my presentation I made these points clear and asked whether we were the right team to be developing this solution.

My Boss latched on to this point and agreed that this wasn't for our team and advised that we should take no further action. He would liaise with the Requestor and inform them of the reasons for our disengagement. I must admit that I was quite relieved. I don't like having no work to do but I prefer my tasks to be challenging rather than bloody impossible.

The rest of the day was the fairly standard fare of calls and e-mail and I finished at a very civilised five o'clock.

A fire was lit in the lounge and I spent a while pottering in the garage which translates to taking a multi cutter to the bolts holding the front engine plate that remains stubbornly affixed to the Enfield's motor … after much deliberation I have decided to reverse the nuts and bolts that mount the plate. This allows me to remove the damned thing from the bike and paint it in the comfort of the house.

There may be some faffing around to get the thing remounted on the engine but it seemed the best way to refurbish it.

What have I done?

I had a chat with my Boss this morning and mentioned that that I was currently kicking my proverbial heels. "Why don't you give Deepak a call" he said "He has just picked up a new RFP and might need some cover".

About twenty minutes later I found myself on the 'phone with Deepak where I learnt that he knew very little about the RFP but had a massive amount of work on and wanted me to lead it. I pointed out that I also knew sweet FA about the deal, but what I had learnt was that the Proposal was due on 15th January. As I was taking the best part of a fortnight off over Christmas there was no way that I could effectively lead this piece of work and, at best, we would have to co-lead it.

Without knowing anything I already knew that this was going to be difficult as getting anything completed over the Christmas / New Year period is challenging. The first thing I did was to arrange a call to try to get an understanding of what the Sales Team and Service Owner actually wanted …

… We spoke late in the day and it is fair to say that we have little more than three weeks to produce a coherent, costed solution and significant, and I mean SIGNIFICANT, chunks of the solution remain ill defined.* As for requirements … if we had them I am not sure we would have the time to read 'em.

Outside of work it was Puppy Training with Whiffler tonight. All went well and my technique for teaching Whiffler to lie down drew praise as I had remembered it from when T&M were puppies. We do, however, need to practice getting him to sit and stay while we walk away from him.

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* non-existent

I almost forgot ...

When we bought the Range Rover there was a strange looking fob accompanying the spare key. After poring over the Owners Manual it appeared to be a remote control that would activate the car's heater on a cold morning allowing one to pre-heat the car.

This was obviously piqued my interest but was of minimal value when we bought the thing in the middle of the Summer. Well, on Saturday morning we had a hard frost and 30% and I needed to be in Stratford early. As I was pottering about the house I looked out and noticed that the car was heavily frosted. I recalled the magic heater fob and retrieved it from the drawer. I peeped out of the door and pressed the button and was rewarded by a humming noise coming from the car. I retreated and let it do it's thing.

About twenty minutes later I noticed that the windows had defrosted nicely and ten minutes after that we exited The Pile for our trip in to town …

… that has got to be the best gadget EVER. The car was beautifully warm and the windows were frost free. There was no need to faff about with ice scrapers or waiting for heated windows to defrost. Simply remember to hit the button half an hour before you plan to leave and you are rewarded with a car as cozy as the house you just left.

Mostly Pottering

This morning we headed in to Stratford early, where we divided and conquered. 30% hit the supermarket to ensure our cupboards were full for the next week or so* while I headed in to the town centre to pick up a jacket and shirt I had ordered from Jaeger.

We were back at home before eleven and I filled the time before lunch putting another coat of enamel on the Enfield engine plates.

Much of the afternoon was spent in front of the Mac finishing off a recent project … The fourth volume of this rubbish is being transitioned from the internet to the physical page and I will soon be  instructing my printers to produce a print run limited to a single volume.

Around three o'clock TP and I headed off around the Three Miler with the dogs. It was bitterly cold out and a fire was lit upon our return. A happy hour was then spent toasting my toes before 30% returned from a shopping trip with Jules.  I caught up on her news … and an enquiry as to whether I might be interested in funding this trip as part of her Christmas present.

This evening TP headed off to a nearby pub for a trial shift behind the bar. We settled in front of the TV with a chinese takeaway and booted up the Apple TV** as an alternative to the pre-Christmas shite the TV schedulers are punishing us with.

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* more on that subject in an upcoming post
** The World's Fastest Indian with Anthony Hopkins, if you are interested

An Interview or a day in Court?

Walking in to work on dress down Friday wearing a suit and tie was bound to draw some curious comments and the majority of these were based on seeking a new job or looking respectable in front of a Judge. The actual reason was that 30% and I needed to be at the Redditch Crematorium by half past twelve for SMS's mother's funeral.

It wasn't exactly a sad day as Kate was well in to her eighties and had suffered from Alzheimer's for many years so this was more of a natural ending than a sad departure. Obviously and understandably there were tears from those who were far closer to her than us. The funeral was as pleasant as they can be and, once again, I was quite taken with the design of the Redditch Crematorium and the view given by the full height windows looking out over the cemetery and the Abbey Park. It was perhaps fitting that the grey drizzle was replaced by a bright December sun as the service progressed.

There would not be a lot more to say about the Funeral if it hadn't been for the fact that both of my Sisters were also present. It is fair to say that we have a strained relationship.* The reality is probably that we have all just grown up and grown apart but there also some unspoken niggles that have festered, particularly with Sara and Emma. As a result we did little more than exchange nods of acknowledgement and terse Hello's before attending the service.

After the service we attempted some small talk and I asked Emma how her new job was going. She returned the question and then 30% offered a metaphorical Olive Branch by saying that perhaps we should consider getting together at some point. I saw Emma's expression grow harder than her normal stern visage and recognised the warning signs … I gave 30%'s sleeve a gentle tug to indicate that this had not been well received.

There then followed a few choice comments where Emma attempted to induce feelings of guilt in me for not attending the funeral of her ex-husband. The fact that she had neither informed me of his death nor invited me to the funeral didn't seem to present any obstacle to her twisted logic. I didn't rise to the bait and simply informed her that this was neither the time nor the place and that I was going outside.

As I said earlier in this entry, it is apparent that there are some family issues that have festered over time and I think 30% managed to knock the scab off one of those metaphorical sores today. As for me, I definitely don't feel guilty and I definitely will not be attempting to build any bridges with my younger sister. She grows more like my Auntie Joan with every passing day from the stern face to the spoilt child demeanour and the expectation that the world should revolve around her. She still has a lot of growing up to do but in her late forties I don't think that is going to happen.

It is quite sad that someone who was so gregarious and personable as a young woman has such a dependency on my elder sister for her social needs and has upped sticks and relocated to Herefordshire after taking a job vacated by one of Sara's friends … talk about living in each other's pockets!**

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* Actually we don't have a relationship. I last spoke to Emma in 2008 and apart from a couple of brief encounters with Sara at Dad's house and at Jeff Wilson's Funeral it has probably been a good five years since I had any contact with her either. I get regular updates on their lives from Dad but that is about it.
** Apparently Emma's company is already loosing it's shine as she has started to critique Sara's parenting of Beatrice***
*** David's four year old niece, who has recently moved in after many suicide attempts and mental breakdowns suffered by her natural mother.

Another quiet day

Thursday morning was filled with a jaunt in to Birmingham for yet another session in the Dentist's chair. This time a number of impressions were taken of my dentition and, all being well, within two weeks my double crown will be ready to be installed in to the titanium socket.

The trip took most of the morning and it was lunchtime before I was back at The Pile. Work is still quiet so the afternoon was spent tidying my in-box and a further coat of enamel was applied to the Enfield's mounting brackets. I did also venture out out the garage with the aim of separating the front disk from the mounting plate but it is way too bloody cold for that at present …

… andI may also need to buy some 1/2" Hex Sockets too.

Haircuts all round

I was up, suited and booted and out of the house a little after eight this morning. Tyson and Marauder accompanied me as today it was a case of haircuts all round.

Normally I try to avoid the office if work is quiet but I desperately needed a trim so I volunteered to drop T&M off at the Groomers and kick my heels in the office until they were ready to be collected. As I have intimated, it was a quiet day and apart from a wander across the road to the local Barber and a couple of calls I wasn't exactly busy. The Office was quiet too so neither were there a huge amount of colleagues to pass the time with either.

Eventually I received the call and was able to make my escape a few minutes after four o'clock. T&M look superb and I really must try to get a decent photograph of the three dogs whilst they all still look salon fresh.

It was a quiet evening at home with not a lot to report apart from a further session of enamel painting. It is going well but I am taking a slow approach, curbing my natural impatience in the hope of achieving an attractive and durable finish.

Picture Post

It was very much a "slow news" day today and, if I am totally honest, I had very little to occupy me. As a result I took some time out in the morning to get the first coat of enamel paint on the Enfield's engine mounting plates. It seems to apply far better than the primer but I will not be able to make a proper assessment until I have a second or possibly third coat applied.

I could just leave it at that but this would then be judged a half arsed Journal entry at best. I have, therefore, rummaged through my photo archive and selected this as a space filler …

I took this snap at a living exhibition of tree frogs at the American Museum of Natural History back in August last year.

What ?

Monday was a relatively quiet day so I thought I would jot down a couple of random thoughts to fill a little space.

Firstly, I need to consider a follow-on series to Marauder's Bumper Book of Crimes …

… On Saturday I wandered back in to the house after our shopping trip to Stratford and TP asked whether I had left my glasses on the coffee table in the lounge. I confirmed that this was likely and he then wandered off in that direction. Moments later he returned with a pair of very mangled titanium armed, frameless spectacles. It appears that Whiffler had managed to strip the rubber grip from one of the arms and the lenses now bear his teeth marks.

They went straight in the bin and Whiffler was given an evil glare.

The second was a discussion TP and I had about who would win in a fight between a crocodile and a reindeer …

… Initially this seems to be a no-brainer with the croc rapidly dragging Santa's steed beneath the muddy waters and twisting chunks of flesh off the still living body with the traditional death roll. However, if you give this one some thought it all depends on whether this is a home or  away match from the croc's perspective.

If this death match takes place out on the Arctic Tundra that ectothermic reptile is going to be somewhere between sluggish and immobile and the odds of the reindeer winning increase massively.

Hold tight as I am now going to make a massive change of course …

… This evening we had an early dinner, loaded ourselves in to the car and headed over to the Malvern Winter Gardens to see a touring production of the 50's musical; Calamity Jane. It was a super show with an incredibly talented cast that not only acted, danced and sang but also played the score too.

In some ways it was a wander down memory lane as, when I was a young child, my parents had the sound track and I can recall my elder sister playing this* on the record player on Sunday mornings. As a consequence all of the tunes were familiar and I thoroughly enjoyed the show. One of the things that struck me was how far removed a musical is from the type of entertainment prevalent now. The 50's musical was actually a legacy of the Victorian Musical Theatre and consequently worked perfectly on a stage. It was, however, quite surreal at times and I did, on occasion, wonder if I was having some form of flash back!

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* She was also very fond of Oklahoma and Frank Sinatra's Songs for Swingin Lovers

Hell, it's December tomorrow!

My first activity on Sunday morning was to give my engine mounts a quick rub down and get a third coat of primer on them. I had added a dash of thinners to the primer, changed my brush and it has made a world of difference. With a fair wind I should get some enamel on to them at some point in the coming week.

Painting activities took me until just before ten. The local feed store doesn't open until then on a Sunday so I was then able to head over there and pick up enough layers pellets and wood shavings to last us through until the New Year.

The remainder of the morning was spent out in the garage where I attacked one of the gearbox mounting plates with a mini sanding drum on the Dremel to remove the corrosion and remaining paint. These mounting plates are going to be a pig of a job to paint, and achieve a reasonable finish, as the garage is unheated and that is before I list the accessibility issues presented by them being bolted to a bloody great big engine. I guess I will just have to persevere and trust to good fortune.

After lunch I had summoned sufficient enthusiasm to unload 150Kg of chicken food from the car along with a huge bale of wood shavings. I also managed to get a coat of rust inhibitor on the mounting plate I had stripped earlier in the day. Late in the afternoon TP and I headed out around the Three Miler with the dogs before returning home and doing very little for the rest of the day.

I know just the spot for it ...

I suppose it must be that time of year as, yet again, we found ourselves in Stratford this morning.

The main purpose of the trip were fittings for a couple of items of clothing and the collection of a large leather beanbag but we managed to find a pair of presents for 30% and also one for TP too. We also managed to get mildly squiffy on the free Prosecco offered at Jaeger. I generally tend not to drink until the sun is well over the yardarm but must admit that a large glass of pink, sparkling stuff at ten in the morning does tend to take the edge off the irritations of Christmas Shopping.

We also took a wander through the antiques stalls in the market and it was there that I spotted the must have item … at front and centre of one of the stalls was a small, vintage stuffed crocodile. Our eyes met across the crowded market and through a tightening throat I uttered the immortal words "I fucking love that". 30% looked horrified but before she could intervene I had committed to the purchase and money was changing hands. She did however manage to dissuade me from carrying the small reptile around the town and it was left for collection upon our return to the car.

We went about our business and eventually headed home. It was only as I was about to sit down to lunch that I realised that my beloved crocodile had been forgotten. It goes without saying that I lay all blame for this with 30% as there was no way that I could carry a large leather sack full of polystyrene beads, walk AND remember the earlier purchase of a taxidermied crocodilian. Fortunately we had the telephone number of a Stall Holder* on the same market who was more than happy to collect and hold the beast until we can collect him in a couple of weeks time.

The afternoon saw us totally ignore the threat made by the Dog Groomers and we took a walk around the Three Miler. It was filthy out there and Whiffler's lower half was covered in shite by the time we wandered back in to the house as the sun started to set.

If I am honest I really just wanted to spend the evening in front of the TV but we had promised to attend a show that had been put on by the local Am Dram group at the Village Hall. This rash promise had been made because TP had volunteered to work the lighting and sound console for the production and we felt that we should do the right thing. I'm not really sure how to sum up the evening so I will just stick with the lager was reasonably cold, at least I hadn't had to travel far** and I did manage to laugh in the right places … most of the time.

I also have a cold coming on.

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* The artisan leather worker who had constructed the fabulous leather beanbag that caused crocodilian amnesia in the first place.
** 400 yards

Whose dog are you?

This morning I ran a razor around my face, threw on a tidy…ish pair of jeans and headed towards the Nearest Depot.

I should have been accompanied by 30% but she had woken to an horrific migraine and preferred to lie in a darkened room only venturing from her bed to vomit.* It was therefore left to me to drop Whiffler off at the Dog Grooming Salon and head in to the Office where I spent a happy few hours chatting to colleagues, filling in an expenses form and grudgingly completing the final field on my on-line appraisal form.

By two o'clock I was done and my colleagues were silently wishing me to go so they could get on with whatever had dragged them from home in to the office on a Friday. Fortune smiled on them when the Salon called to let me know that Whiffler was ready for collection. I headed down the road, wandered in to the Salon and was greeted by this …

I had left them a fluff ball of a puppy. Admittedly he had been a very large fluff ball of a puppy, but I had returned to collect very attractive coiffed young dog. I had forgotten the shock of how different they look after their very first clip. Apparently he had behaved beautifully during his wash and cut and I was threatened with dreadful retributions should I consider taking him for a walk down the muddy lanes for at least a week. I was also asked if I would like to consider buying shares in the Grooming Salon as T&M are booked in for a clip next Wednesday!

I headed home and finished my working day from the study. That really sums up the day. I did need to head over to Worcester and drop off a pair of Peter Gabriel tickets with Jules as 30% was in no fit state to head over to the NEC this evening. I then settled on the sofa for the evening and as the hours ticked by I felt less and less chipper …

… I don't know if it was the bad night's sleep I woke from this morning or if I had a cold coming on. What I do know is that I felt quite yucky and was glad when TP came home and I could lock up and hit the sack.

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* This statement might seem a little "cold" but after more than a dozen years together I am well versed in the lore of the migraine. There is nothing I can do but just leave her be and let it dissipate over the course of the day. Questions like "How are you" or "Do you need anything" are pointless and simply an unwelcome intrusion in to a world of pain and nausea.

It's that time of year ...

... for most of today I experienced rising panic as I stared at the Neat & Tidy Piano Movers' On-line Appraisal Tool. What on earth should I write? What have I done over the past twelve months to justify my continued employment as a Junior Shifter? I bloody hate this self-justification exercise and am absolutely certain that much of the angst comes from my twelve years of servitude at Dante's Nine Circles of Hell. I'm not going to start a rant about the perverse aspects of their staff appraisal system. I am sure there is a Journal Entry from a couple of years ago where I moan about it and a recent blog post by an ex-colleague suggests that things are probably worse there rather than any better. What I do know is that I am somewhat scarred by Dante's appraisal system and consequently have the same expectations here at the Piano Movers. 30% is far more relaxed about it and tells me that I shouldn't worry. My Boss loves me and the grading decisions have been made already. Apparently all I need to do is enter a few concise notes that simply say that I succeeded in or delivered my various objectives. I'm not so sure ... what if I miss out a critical piece of evidence and my career dissipates like mist in the early morning sun or, likely more accurately, like a small antelope with a bad limp wandering past a starving lion. I guess I should relax but it is hard when it is my livelihood that is at stake.

I approached the day on a task and reward basis. Each time I fancied a cup of coffee or food I made myself enter the evidence for one of my dozen objectives before I allowed myself the luxury of getting up to seek sustenance. By the end of the day I had entered results against all but one of my objectives and I have until Monday to complete the exercise. I still find it surprising how relieved I feel when I can finally press the submit button and get this crappy task completed.

In the late afternoon TP and I took the dogs for a walk around the Three Miler and we then had an early dinner before heading over to the NEC ... A colleague at work had tickets for Lee Mack's Hit the road Mack tour but was not able to attend. As a result TP and I found ourselves in pretty good Block A seats to enjoy the spectacle. The warm-up act was an appalling misogynistic throwback to the seventies and I was relieved when his half hour finally drew to a close. Mack, on the other hand, was a delight and his set was filled with laugh out loud moments.  A definite 8/10. This would have been a higher score but there was no free tin of Spam.*

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* a running gag coming out of some audience interaction.

This is gonna take longer than I hoped

I applied the first coat of primer to the engine mounting plates and spacers this morning and it is fair to say that I ain't impressed. It looked fine in the tin and loaded up on the brush beautifully but is horrible to apply, leaving runs or streaks depending on the quantity applied and the amount of brushwork. It may be the temperature. It may be the rust preventative applied yesterday.  I just don't know, but what I do know is that I will have some rubbing down to do and may well be thinning the stuff to see if that improves things. I also know that painting the brackets that are still connected to the engine is going to be an utter bastard of a job based on today's experience.

Sticking with the Enfield Project I also finally bit the bullet* and ordered tires and tubes for my shiny new wheels. I had been contemplating a pair of road legal, but super soft and grippy, trials knobblies but was concerned about the wear rate** and instead settled on a pair of Continental Escape Trail Tyres that are the best part of sixty quid cheaper than Dunlop D803s and probably a lot more sensible on the road.

I also learnt that patience is a virtue as random perusal of a website taught me that my standard rear shock absorbers are ten millimetres longer than I thought. Had I rushed out and ordered a shiny set of Hagon shocks I would have ended up with the wrong size …

… Perhaps an oily fingered God is looking down on me and my project bike.***

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* Did you see what I did there?
** Christ knows why. It is not as though I do a huge mileage on any of my bikes!
*** and is, no doubt, shaking his head and sighing in a combination of frustration and desperation

I haven't a clue about a title for this stuff …

It was another cold, wet day and by lunchtime I had succumbed and had a fire burning in the study. It does make the room delightful to work in but it also adds a very strong temptation to just close ones' eyes and lean back in the chair for a few minutes … zzzzzzzzz!

For most of today things had been pretty quiet at work and then, just as I was about to step away from my laptop I received an urgent mail from one of my colleagues. The consequence of this was that I then spent the next thirty minutes reiterating information previously provided and excavating evidence to demonstrate that the client is now asking questions about service elements that had been clearly marked as out-of-scope.   

I eventually escaped just before five o'clock and attempted to head over to Alcester. This involved a search for the car keys and within moments I found them or, more accurately, identified their current location … they were nestling in 30%'s handbag after yesterday's trip to puppy training. This was no good at all as she was still in the Office.* I grabbed the spare set and headed out to the car where I made a startling discovery … the Range Rover alters it's settings dependent on which key is used to open it. I found myself sat in a new seating position, with different radio stations stored and a rather posh, but irritating woman, talking to me from the innards of the Sat Nav.***

It took a few minutes to restore the car to it's previous set up and, after a brief stop at the Auto Bank, was soon collecting my shiny new wheels from Ray. He has made a super job and I am so pleased that I made the decision to invest in new hubs rather than attempt to restore the tatty originals.

Back at home, yesterday's lamb carcass was brought up from the "beer fridge" and 30% and I set about identifying and packing the joints and chops. I also, briefly, wandered off in to the realm of butchery, as I needed to bone out the two breasts before I could say my work was done.

With half an hour to go before dinner, I finally made a start on the painting of the brackets and spacers. These now have a coating of a rust preventative and I will start on the first coat of primer tomorrow.

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* I should point out that she is notorious for putting things safely in her hand bag out of the way.  She will claim, in her defence, that she is always the nominated beast of burden and ends up with anything I refuse to put in my pockets such as diabetic paraphernalia.** However, this week I have already had to search the cavernous chaos to extract my cheque book that had been missing for the best part of a week.
** Blood testing kit, syringe, emergency high carbohydrate snacks etc etc …Allegedly these are required on all outings but I rarely take them unless I am away for a good length of time and am eating out.
*** I get enough of that at home, Thank You!