Paint Problems? maybe not.

Mon.18.02.08. Over the weekend the boot lining has been constructed and sprayed. At the moment the colour is now satin black to match most of the chassis as well as the other body parts that will not be visible. Chris has continued to assemble the car carefully ensuring that front wings line up with the rear wings before tightening for the very last time. The bonnet and nosecone were added later which has completed the build of the remaining body panels. When secured, the extra nuts and bolts throughout the length of the wings have formed a rigid solid bond to the body tub to the engine panels. The moulded rubber strip offers a cushion but also an agreeable aesthetic supplement. Fitting the indicator and lighting brackets together with the appropriate lenses are further reminders that the car is evolving into a ‘real’ vehicle.

There is regrettably, germinating, a dissatisfaction with the ‘painting’ prowess of Nigel. Particularly the bonnet and nosecone have come under a great deal of scrutiny. Chris has rubbed away some areas in an attempt to buff the paintwork revealing the true surface texture and colour. Sadly I have previously witnessed this process of blame reinforced by doubt many times before. From originally being ‘a talented young man’ Nigel overnight has mutated into ‘an incompetent, crap bullshitter’ who has ‘not a friggin’ clue’. I foresee both panels being attacked with ‘wet 800’s’ to rectify the problem, I shall also be given the onerous task of returning to Nigel in the vain hope of explaining our reasons for the action instead of insisting that Chris should ‘leave well enough alone, to maybe trust a fellow artisan’.

The Bowling Green has had its day. Both the Preacher and Chris abandoned their beer pointedly walking out in protest on Friday evening. Steven suffered ‘runny bot’ most of Saturday blaming contaminated Deuchars. He was consequently forced to spend most of Sunday delivering his sermon with an antiseptic rubber ring attached to his arse. Higher prices, an indifferent approach to our patronage accompanied by clean fresh beer, handsome bar maids with black uniforms that conveniently expose plump rounded breasts  have encouraged the group to transfer ‘on block’ to The Millstone.

This has also resulted in a welcome return of John Lowton from his self imposed exile after his rude tiff with the management of the Bowlie. And so it was that the troops gathered in our new home in a lively refreshed mood. Doctor Dave returned during the afternoon from his Syrian expedition recounting tales of guesting with a local rock band: having paid £150 for a room in Dubai airport he spent the rest of the night with a fellow traveller: an energetic frauline. Order has been restored.

Everything is sweet, the car is becoming a long awaited reality, old faces have resurfaced, and the pub, coincidently, is situated at the top of my street. Cushty.