Mon.14.08.06. We were hoping to deliver the wings to Young Danny today but his boss would prefer to keep the garage closed for the duration of his holiday, the consequence of which delays the painting process by a another week. Although a would-be set back it has meant that we have been forced to re-think this part of the schedule arriving at other, and probably, more prudent substitutes.
We have paid Andy a further £80.00 for the final welds on the chassis, money well spent as the extra work has made quite a difference to the overall strength and appearance. It is our intension to paint the peripheral smaller sand blasted components with a ‘rust proofing’ product that ‘John the Paint’ has recommended. Chris has already tested its suitability on the differential and suspension uprights with excellent results. The liquid in the jar has the consistency and appearance of milk but when brushed on lightly it transforms into a black plasticized coating. The product also reacts with any rust particles creating an even greater bond to offer further protection.
When the chassis is returned to Westmead it will be re-united with the body to ensure that all the new brackets and extra outriggers are still in the correct place ready for the final re-build. The chassis will need some cosmetic grinding to satisfy Chris’s appetite for perfection and then it will receive several coats of the ‘wonder rust’ treatment. Meanwhile, I have been given a box of assorted components, which also require the same protective application.
Although once more, we seem to be thwarted by an unattainable proposed schedule the week ahead could prove to be beneficial in the long term. We have energetically explored a host of possible routes, but hopefully, we have initiated the strategies that will enable the whole project to move forward.
The Oak has been eerily quiet over the weekend epitomizing the unpredictable summer trade. There has only been the ‘big word’ competition to keep us amused. David, Preacher Steven, Chris, Paul and Andrew Higham regularly visit ‘The Ball and Boot’ for the five pint sprint early on Sunday afternoons before arriving later at the Oak. It has become a ritual encouraged by David who uses the pub often after his morning toil on the flowers. The beer is cheap as are the customers. The cliental generally consists of a mixture of local inbreds, petty criminals, drug dealers, the long term unemployed, benefit fraudsters, layabouts, knuckle draggers and numpties. This assortment of pond life fritters away the afternoon swilling down high gravity lagers, smoking rollies interspersed by cursing at the TV. Anything that passes for conversation is usually punctuated with expletives and a smile. There are more ‘Mr Fucks’ per square metre than in any other establishment in the UK; a part from any high security prison providing accommodation for the certifiably insane.
During one particularly ‘blue’ lunchtime Chris suggested that they should have a ‘big word’ contest in direct opposition to the indigenous banter that generally prevails. “If you use a big word it must be relevant to the conversation and not in isolation or out of context” stated Chris, establishing the rules of the game. Preacher Steven examined the premise of ‘independent man’. “It is impossible to believe that man can function without woman: from the very early days there has been this necessary bond that is complementary, intrinsically natural, there have been very few genuinely existentialistic successful men who have not been influenced by a strong woman”. This was a fine opening shot from Steven, everyone nodding in approval. “It could only be a committed misogynist who could piss on that statement” argued the thoughtful Andrew. A valid comment indeed, as everyone simultaneously began stroking his chin. “Listen, listen, I know loads of blokes who haven’t got a good woman and they don’t want one either, but it hasn’t stopped them from being mega successful and bloody miserable at the same time. It’s all bollocks anyway, women are just like politicians, corrupt, lying, cheating bastards” offered Chris, who at this point in the contest was festering in fifth position having scored ‘nil points’.
“Talking of politics, I know a very interesting local story: do you want to hear it?” intrigued Paul. Paul then posed the question as to what the nightclub ‘Pemps’ was before ‘Barbara the megalomaniac’ converted the shit hole into the landmark that it is. “It was the local Communist club, claimed Paul, commonly known as the ‘Bolshi’. It was in that very building where all the antidisestablishmentarianism propaganda was formulated just after the war”. Game, set and match, the contest was then suspended until next week. Leaving via the decompression chamber the contestants returned to the Oak for an additional gallon of ale.
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