So, it's been a busy and at times stressful (still going on) ol' time here at Chez Us.

The larder is, actually, floored. I do still need to throw some white paint on the door frame, but that's it. I'm really pleased with it. The DAF which has been up for sale for 2 weeks and garnered no interest at all (I would take some pictures, but they're seriously depressing) - I may have to fix it and e-bay it. I'll throw a coat of white paint on it too.

Today marked, however, a genius moment. Inspiration and understanding (of a sort) struck. My bike has been limping up and down the motorway at 60 mph. Odd, I thought, since the engine's just rebuilt and it's all new and shiny. I'd been thinking to myself - perhaps the timing is off. Maybe the mixture's wrong. Perhaps it needs a hotter plug. Then today it struck me.

I was riding along this morning contemplating the drizzle falling on me, my cold arse, and the fact that I really could fancy having a bike with a decent saddle, and also perhaps a bike with third gear, when I thought...

'What could cause my bike to perform in a very similar manner to my old bike'?

I'd thought this before and then brushed such silly thoughts aside with the fact that this is a newly rebuilt engine and gearbox (never mind the missing third gear, natch). That the electrics, electronics and such are entirely different. That it doesn't burn gearbox oil, and nor does petrol find it's way into the lubricating areas of the gearbox.

And then the little tiny 10 watt bulb that is, on occasion, my brain lit up. It sparkled dimly in the dirt grey sky that was the morning.

The fracking carb. The carb came off my old bike because the carb that was on the new engine, that I knew worked with the new engine was blocked and I couldn't figure out where. And I thought 'well, I wanted to use the Bing carb (off my old bike) anyway because it's better than the BvF carb (from the new bike). Gah.

So, nights off, I shall have to see if I can make the BvF carb work and thence fit it and see if I can go places quicker.

The stress, however, hasn't really come from this. It's come from a potential visit to the civil claim court being organised by the current possessor of my mum's EV. We took it to him for some work, when it got there he stated it would 'probably' be beyond his original quote so we agreed that he would take out the controller, examine the rest of the vehicle and come back with a revised quote. This he did. Then it all starts to go the shape of a pear. We said stop, he didn't, and now he wants money for work that he won't warranty and so far has declined to tell me where the car actually is so that we can retrieve it. I've had to fork out for legal advice now, and now I understand where we're at, I've got to get the EV on Sunday. So that's a whole bundle of fun coming.

And after the disaster that was the Charles Ware 'restoration' (the front has outdone the back in terms of being actually dangerous*) I've restarted the process of taking them to the small claims court. This is less than relaxing for me... I've contacted Watchdog about them this time...

Anyhow.

In other news I've been playing with Delicious Library - in an attempt to achieve the utopian state of being in a bookstore and being able to find out if I've got any particular obscure tome I'm looking at. While I only really need it for 'series' (like xxxHolic, Discworld, the VI Warshawski / Sara Paretsky novels, etc, etc) I've been working through entering all the books we own (yes, seriously) into it. Annoyingly the iPhone plugin has been removed by Amazon (DAMN THEM!) which is funny because I could be easily persuaded into buying more books that way. I hope that changes, but for the meantime I'll be abusing a little corner of my website at some point. I need, of course, to do some upgrades to the underbelly of pyoor, but hopefully once that's done we'll be ready to rock and roll with a searchable book and eventually music and film database.

Finally, in news, my Nursing Registration in Canada is slowly progressing, my CV is updated and needs proofreading and then I'll be sending it off. It's all becoming a bundle of scary (I mean exciting).


* Bulkhead tie plates not welded at all - just seam-sealed to the tie plates; flitch panel just tack-welded to A post area. Whole hinge pillar flopping about like a goldfish out of water**, chassis legs incorrectly welded - and cracked as a result, the sill was an inch out of alignment... etc, etc...
** Explains the hinge breaking, the whole pillar had moved.

So, driving back from dropping off documents at the solicitors... Nice bloke tells me how wonderful the DAF is.

...

...about a mile from home CRACK! BANG! SCRAPE scraaaaape scrape.

The exhaust has snapped in half.

Home: Tax bike: Find bike gear: Charge battery: Pray.

Anyone want a DAF 44?

Never trust a company without a written quote. Always confirm spoken agreements in writing.

Fuck [redacted] and also fuck [redacted]. Now I have to spend money on solicitors.

END.

One of the things that comes up, particularly after a few days of triage is that England, or at least the bits of it I've encountered, appear to have a problem with entitlement.

Now I was unfortunate, due to the skill mix being a bit less than it could be, and us being extraordinarily* busy I ended up triaging a lot. Really, a lot. To the point where what is termed an 'inappropriate attendance'** really really tested my abilites with professionalism***. Anyhow. This front-loading of the system meant that those poor souls who should have been there (not that many) and who actually needed treatment (even fewer) were sometimes left waiting quite a while.

The government in the UK stipulates that we must, in the emergency department, see, diagnose, and admit or treat/discharge within four hours of their booking in time. No matter if you've stubbed your toe and got a bit of an owie or suffered multiple trauma, 4 hours is all you've got****. This, when it takes up to 2 hours for blood results to return is not actually that long. Before this standard was applied, people stayed in the ED overnight, and I'm told by colleagues in other countries that 4 hours is actually really very quick in emergency department standards.

Which is why when people sit around for 2 hours and start to get stroppy I want to tell them a few things. I don't, because I'm - at the end of the day - fond of my job, and my job is to behave in a professional manner.

But really. 2 hours? I can waste more time than that reading a paper.

People also seem to suffer under the delusion that their problem is more important than everyone elses, and that they should be seen before everyone else, and that 4 hours is just too damn long to wait. I understand that it's not very interesting being in the ED. Well, frankly it can be quite entertaining, I suspect, as a spectator sport watching the many, many drunk people rocking up on nights.

But shouting at/cursing us and telling us that you pay your taxes does not serve to impress me. Especially when the UK ranks 18th in the world for it's spending per-capita on healthcare. It's cheap. It's really *really* cheap. It's incredible value for money.

And frankly, it needs more. Lots more.

Less managers.
More money.
More wards.
More beds.
More on the shop-floor staff.

We won't get that though, because the greater population of the UK are sold lies about the NHS by the tabloid press, and largely, the population seems confused as to how much tax we pay. It turns out we're not nearly as heavily taxed as even I thought. And I never thought we were *that* heavily taxed...

So.

Basically.

Yes, Shut your yappin' is basically the point. That and take some frickin' responsibility for your own healthcare. Jeeze. Learn something about that body you inhabit and try, at least try and look after it a very little bit.

Anyhow, sorry if that's a bit incoherant, but I have been up 24 hours.



* a situation which is becoming depressingly ordinary
** true examples: 'I've had this pain, here, for a few months... and it's been bothering me... so I thought I should get it checked' (at 4:30 in the *morning* at an *emergency department*?!). "I've had this pain in the side of my nose since this morning. Well, it's more an ache. Or an itch. It's been bothering me..." and "I've had a cold since yesterday, and I've taken this [waves X brand cold/flu medication] and I'm not better yet, so I thought I should come in".
*** And of course, handily there's always the young-person-with-rare-condition who you read the booking in complaint for, *sigh*, call in and then go 'Oooh, you really are quite sick I best do something rather rapidly' which reminds you of *why* you remain professional and do your job properly and don't just say "Get thee hence! Begone foul abuser of our fine services!" when people appear to be inappropriately attending.
**** There is a clinical exception which I've seen applied all of once or twice - when it is actually unsafe to move the patient because the ED is the best place, clinically, for them to be.

Well, I forgot that I needed to go to the post office when I was making my list. Having put it up I instantly realised that my first job of the day was postofficing. So of I wandered. My original plan, such as it was, was to go into town; collect my contacts, my parcel and post stuff. But then I realised that I was knackered and really didn't fancy it.

So I wandered there, and I wandered back. I read some of Makers, and I chatted to James, and then finally poked myself with the giant get-off-your-arse stick and went and dealt with the shower. The hot supply of which had managed to develop a very slow drip. I'm suspecting this is a case of thermal expansion/contraction because it's been fine for over a year. A quick tighten and it seems to have stopped. Should have done it ages ago, really.

Then I decided to take on the kitchen tap. This was, I believed to be a simple disconnect and unscrew old tap; assemble, put in and connect new tap. Ye-es. I also believed that taps had a standard size hole in which they fitted. Apparently not. Because this tap was bigger than the hole. A bit of filing later and it fitted, but by then I'd munged the top-ends of the threads, which is where the "no, it definately isn't a wiggle-it-and-it'll-fit" realisation came to me. Thus I spent an inordinate amount of time under the sink turning the brass retaining nuts 1/8th of a turn with a spanner because they were just slightly too tight to turn by hand.

Knowing that I was tired I very carefully followed the instructions, checking each step of the way that I had done exactly as described. I turned on the water. No leaks. I turned on the tap, the cabinet under the tap became the new and exciting Slough Swimming Pool with added water features (Be amazed by our wet pile of tiles in what was once a cardboard box!); yes, it turned out that the instructions lacked a vital note.

Having done much mopping and cleaning, I discovered that in one of the bags lain unnoticed were two small washers. Not in the diagram, not in the instructions. No. It comes with 4 hoses, this tap. 3 of them have all the sealing washers built in. One, it turns out, does not. Thankfully it's an easy to reach one. Having reassembled it, and switched the hot-and-cold around so that they were the right way round (doh!) the tap now doesn't appear to leak. But I think that's me for the day.

I'm now resorting to contemplating the rearrangement of the office and more pressingly the larder.

One day, three tasks.

Sand/fill/spray DAF's bonnet.
Swap tap in kitchen.
Reattempt, for the final time, shower sealing.

The only problem is that this comes after a week of nights where the NHS were clearly trialing their new slogan: Doing the impossible with the insufficient.

Wish me luck.

We watched The Boat that Rocked - this, I'm aware got some fairly poor reviews. Reviews, which, having seen it I'd say were unwarranted. It certainly wasn't narrative genius. It didn't make me laugh hysterically, nor did it reduce me to a weepy demonstration of just how not-butch I really am.

But it was a passable rom-com, a pleasant way to spend an evening, and it certainly had some excellent music :)

And reminded me of my dad's tales of running a Pirate Radio station at Uni, and listening to their somewhat awful radiostation on the Reel-to-Reel tapes that lurk about the house. So yes. Not brilliant, not awful.

So, Kathryn's still not feeling great, and yesterday, in the hope that some fresh air might make her feel better we went for a gentle walk along the Thames; this allowed me to break out my AE-1 from it's hibernation; the poor thing's been sat under the bed since my Minolta got it's moment in the limelight and hasn't been out since.

Unfortunately, when I did the lens change I noticed that the mirror-stop/bounce-foam has gone manky. A quick look on the interwebz informs me that this is not uncommon, and indeed, I've splashed out a fiver to get new mirror-bounce-foam. Apparently the shutter speed might also be drifting, due to it's age, so that's something I'll have to keep an eye on. Hopefully the foam'll arrive before we head off for our holiday, and hopefully I'll have time to at least swap the mirror foam, although it also suggests I should swap the light-seal foam on the back of the body too.

I've also been quite naughty and spent a few quid on a 28mm lens. I wanted a 17mm or a fish-eye, but am somewhat surprised to find that FD fit lenses seem to have held their value a bit. I was expecting 20 - 30 quid, much like my old Practika fit lenses, but no. They're still in the priceyness arena - so since I want to save my money, in general, for the new digital SLR then that's not going to happen. I did have a little wander around town today, Slough obviously being a mecca for photographers.

Yeah-uh-hu. Cash Converters, and Poor-bloody-porn-shop, or whatever they're called, are the only places I've seen second hand lenses in town, and I must admit that I imagined with the recession there'd be a high potential for people flogging off old kit to make money. Yeah. No. No SLRs in one and one DSLR in the other one (not sadly cheap enough for me to want it).

So, I shall keep an eye on ebay for FD fit 17 or 14mm lenses (I'm sure that was the one John loaned me ages ago) - that are cheap. At least, until I decide to make the jump to a DSLR or a nearDSLR. Sadly, the quality of the Jessops scan is about what I remember. 1800x1200 pixels just aint a lot, and I'm not really very convinced by the quality of their scans.

I don't know where else to go though. I doubt that any of the other local developers are going to be any better :-/

Also in yesterday's tasks was 'fixing the stairs'. Two of the steps have been 'creaky' since I moved in, and when the carpet was removed it was revealed that they'd obviously been 'going' for a long time. There was a split couple of L brackets on one step and some intact L brackets on another. So yesterday I finally lopped a hole in the ceiling and looked up. The quality of the stairs did not astound me. Still, I repaired the split wood with a big L-shaped wooden bracket I made up, consisting of inch-square supporting chunk and lots of glue. This was then glued/screwed to the steps and while they creak, they no longer move significantly; and it doesn't feel like the widest step is going to give way in a spectacular style. It made me fear, though, the memory of taking the bath and the radiator up that staircase. All that weight on half-inch-thick pine.

I need to plaster the ceiling again where I ripped a hole in it, although I'm tempted to fork out 4 quid for the basic B&Q 'lamp' which I think would, in fact, entirely cover it. That's quite lazy though. Plaster'd be better, wouldn't it. :-/

Anyway, off to get my hair hacked off...

There are some months that contrive to make you feel lousy. Months where everything you touch seems to be a bit wrong, a bit of a struggle. This month seems to be one of them. I made a mistake in the controlled drug book at work - a write-oh, I assumed it was my attrocious handwriting, but it's not. Thankfully myself and the nurse I checked the drugs in with independently remembered the same, different to what I wrote and we both signed, values (and really, would we be so dumb as to steal the drugs *after* checking them in?). But it was dumbness of a fairly high order...

...the shower, which appeared fixed is leaking again. I'm 99.9% certain it's leaking from the frame-seal-to-base, and given the spread of the water I'm fairly certain *where* it's leaking from. The problem is trying to cure the leak. We're back to using the bath, which is not very efficient or quick, but doesn't leak. When it's dried out a bit I'm going to attack the seal one more time. If I can't get it this time then I shall be opting for a 'call the plumber in' affair.

...while it's not my fault, the failed tap in the kitchen (the one with the crack in the moulding, definately not my fault) remains unfixed. I keep meaning to look at replacement taps with Kathryn, and completely forgetting. Meaning that it's gently spraying a jet of water into an empty orange juice carton which has been laid on the windowsill to catch and direct the water into the sink since it started leaking. It feels half-arsed and winds me up each time I see it.

...obviously there's the whole saga of losing my glasses doing the Commando challenge. It's ended with a 230 quid pair of glasses which I like, a lot, but which are essentially the same as my old glasses. That and I'm still not sure about contact lenses. I like them, but I don't seem to be getting on that well with the lenses they gave me, so that may need some adjustment. It's not quite so urgent now I've got glasses though.

...and the final nail in my competence coffin this month, so far, is the radio I built for the DAF. At least I 'bench'* tested it, because it's not working. I need to strip it back down and see if I made some silly mistake with the wiring, because I'm hoping that's it. It didn't get overly hot when powered up, just simply does not work. There's also, obviously, the possibility that the markings on it aren't right, or that there's an earth that needs to be earth that I missed switching cases. But, whatever, it doesn't work at the moment which is annoying because I'm bored of traveling in silence. I guess it's back to headphones and the CD-player :(

I'm hoping that the number of issues this month is going to stop now, because I'm fairly bored of things I do going wrong.

* Bedroom floor

So, at the weekend I did, indeed, complete the Commando Challenge, in a not unrespectable 2 hours. The difference between running on the flat in Slough and running up the hills in Exeter is fairly impressive. The first section of the Commando Challenge shall live in my memory as - "I'm going to die, and my team will hate me". First up there was the 'warm up'. This was more exercise than I'd normally partake doing a run. My warm up at home is stretches and such; theirs was sit-ups and press-ups and commando crawls, and crab walking... in front of an audience. I think I acquitted myself adequately...but I realise that I look terrible in the photos - not happy with how I look at all. Must get fitter. :(

Anyhow. After a gentle jog down hill, you're presented with what seems to be an unrelenting uphill slog, it's a 3k run before the obstacle course, and so far as I can tell was, as I mentioned, almost entirely up. On the final stretch of the final hill, my body just said "NO!" and I dropped from being at the back of our group to walking. A swift 'power' walk, but I just couldn't get the rhythm to keep running. But once up at the top, and into the 'challenge' bit, that was fine. Except...

...on the first 'water feature'* my glasses headed south. Into a 3' deep pool of muddy water. After about 5 minutes of arsing around under the water trying to find them (it was fucking freezing) I declared them lost - the army guy said he'd keep people looking for them (!) and we carried on. Those of you who know me, know I'm essentially blind without my glasses. A whole 3" of forward vision is about what I've got - and the entire rest of the 4k challenge and 3k road run back was done like that.

It was, however, awesome fun.



It was also incredibly expensive - in so far as I managed to spectacularly loose my glasses, and have no spares. So Monday was a very stressful day, encountering helpful companies with no stock, and the ever unhelpful Slough branch of Specsavers**, who's slogan appears to be "No We Can't".

I had my sunglasses so, thankfully, could drive into town. Specsavers immediately informed me that they don't do same-day glasses (I didn't think so) and would not issue new contacts on either my old prescription or my new one without a new appointment, and no, they couldn't do an appointment today. The best they could do was glasses sometime by the end of the week, possibly, although it could take 11 days. No promises.

Thus commenced the running. I went to 'cheap and dodgy opticians' who could do me a contact lens appointment, and had my lenses in stock (for my 4 year old contact prescription, which it turns out has switched perfectly, so far as I can tell, from one eye to the other). But not until 1020. And they weren't sure they could do lenses until they'd had the appointment. I booked it.

Vision express didn't have my lenses in stock, either posh ones for my astigmatism, monthly ordinary ones, or daily ordinary ones. But they could do me a pair of glasses, within the hour.

In the end, at enormous expense I ended up getting glasses (next day) and contacts (that day). They are 3 times the cost of the glasses I had before and essentially exactly the same. Granted it's a metal frame rather than a plastic one and it has 'Pepe Jeans' written on it, where my old ones sported a printed number on the inside to identify the SpecSavers code. The manager of Vision Express is an example of how customer service should be. He actually remembered my name when I walked in the next day, no prompts... He just looked, paused, confirmed my name and then organised my glasses being fitted.

I have to go back on monday for a repeat contact lens appointment, and am painfully broke. But, I did enjoy wearing them again - and having worked out that my eyes have flipped sides (the weaker one is on the R now) and incredibly - comparing the new glasses prescription (well, from March) with the 2005 contact prescription, the power of lens required to correct my crappy eyesight for each eye has exactly switched. Yesterday I tried switching the R & L lenses (BC and Diameter are the same) and lo, I could see *way* better.

I'm happy, although I'm not sure how to break to my optometrist that I've done such a thing... :)

To top it off, yesterday, while trying my new glasses and doing that 'ooh, the world feels odd' thing that new glasses do if you switch midday, I knocked my bloody cafetiere off the counter, along with a mug I liked. I've now managed to loose my favourite mug and one of the better sized second places :(

And I had to make coffee in a tea-filter today :(

I know I'm tired, and thus more prone to acts of extreme clumsyness, but gah.

Anyhow, shower now, then lunch. I forgot to make bread again. So I'll pop it in to start while I'm here and then take it out later (unless Kathryn does it first).

* I don't want to see their gardens.
** Although I have a much better understanding of why they're called Specsavers now.

I have been having a dose of the fear, of late. Perhaps it is in part to blame for my lackadasical, prevaricatious approach to sending off my CRNBC forms. While I want to move to Canada, I want out of this dismal, depressing country, and would like to go to a country where they perhaps value nurses, healthcare and public servants a little more than they do here, it's a big, scary step.

Seriously.

I've lived all over England (I did say 'all over the UK, but that's blatantly not true, I've only lived in England (indeed the statement 'all over England' is perhaps overgenerous, I've never lived North of the Midlands)), but England's small enough that within a day you can traverse it end-to-end. I've never been further than that from people I know and care about. Never been further than that away from my family.

While I didn't see them for weeks, months on end when I lived with she who must not be named I knew they were there. And now I'm moving thousands of miles away, where seeing them is a premeditated, planned decision. It's weird to think about. And scary.

But I have finally spent the time today copying the forms I need to send off, and I have the piece of paper I need to hand in at work for a reference. I've contacted my university for a clarification on the issue of the Transcript. I've requested the paperwork from the NMC. It's all in progress now. Well, it'll be more in progress when I have an envelope to send the stuff to Canada in. I was meant to get up and do that today, but I've spent the day being incredibly lazy*, which is incredibly bad of me.

Some days I suck at getting things done.

Anyhow.

*I'm not entirely sure how I spent my day, objectively the time I spent not doing anything must have been huge, because the only three specific things I did were persuade the fax-copier to do a copy of 12 pages (took a surprising amount of time), baked bread and watched Micro Men** and Spiderman 3.
** Faintly depressing despite being very funny. How the UK squandered it's huge lead in computing.

Yesterday was an amazingly productive day. Out for a run in the morning - 7 miles - as is the 'requirement' - before sitting down to watch Spiderman 2(.1) - which was as entertainingly excellent as I recalled. This was in preparation for the newly obtained spiderman 3 disk (DVDs have really fallen in price, this is a brand new, sealed disk and cost a couple of quid including shipping from amazon*).

Spiderman 3, incidentally, was watched this morning and wasn't as good as 2, but was still good. And I did enjoy it muchly.

Anyhow, after my Spiderman viewing I bathed and poked at the shower - ending with a replacement of the failed silicone seal around one end, and slathering where I think the water's escaping from at the edge of the frame with sealant - a thin bead inside and a waving my silicone'd finger around in the dark where I can't see on the outside. Tomorrow I shall allow showering to occur, and we'll see if it's worked.( geekery of a electronic nature )

So, on my little journey so to see my classic under restoration I saw this rather lovely 1900s house, next to a canal, and unfortunately next to an active business. It's definitely been abandoned a good while, because I have vague recollections of seeing it about 3 years ago when I first went up there, and it was pretty much in the state it's in now.



Sorry for the quality of the shots, my posh digital has died, fairly much completely, so I've only got my point-and-shoot digital, which is not exactly new, nor exactly in great shape. ( At any rate, here's some more )

So, Kathryn mentioned (in the nicest possible way) while I was whining about computers that I am, potentially, a little bit spoilt. I am a geek, and in geek terms, I'd say I'm not spoilt. Were I spoilt in Geek terms, the Ent.Mac would be every bit as shiny as possible, and probably a real mac. However, I'm not spoilt to that degree.

But I'm fully aware that I live with a degree of privilege which extends from my parents and my education, and my middleclassity, but that doesn't necessarily stop me whining (as you're all very much aware). And while I have had my whine on here (haven't I?) about wanting to upgrade the Ent.Mac, mostly because it's incapable of handling Blu-Ray and HighDef Video; not that I have anything to play back high-def video or blu-ray on, because the CRT most definately doesn't do more than 625 lines. But should I ever *get* such technology I'd like to be able to take advantage of it, and the fact that the Ent.Mac needs new hardware is the kind of excuse that tempts a fading geek such as me to want to take advantage.

I'm currently holding off, perhaps considering the potential expenses and potential shift work, that's where I should be at. But maybe, just maybe, I'll switch and have a much nicer machine with OS X 10.6 on it, rather than my aged 10.3 machine with it's ancient (in computing terms) hardware. Or maybe I'll just throw a new DVD-Writer in and call it good for the time being.

I'm also wanting a new camera, although as a stand-in for the minute I've bought some film for my SLR - which has lain unused for a looong time. My Digital Prosumer model has died, having chomped through another set of expensive NiMH batteries, the zoom lens has died, and I took out my 'point-and-click' digital (I suppose point and shoot, really) - today (post to follow) and was quietly depressed by the 'quality' of the pictures. I remember it being better than it is, I suspect it possibly was better - because I tended only to shoot in bright light.

Still, I'll play with my SLR for a bit, and then when I'm screamingly dissatisfied with the quality of the 'scanning' service (usually the quality I've got back from these services has been depressing) - it seems very difficult to get information regarding the resolution at which they'll scan the negatives (or in some cases they scan the prints (*sigh*). Still, I'm quite looking forward to it, although lugging the AE-1 up to the Lakedistrict will probably put a crimp in my joy ;)

So, yes, the other way in which I'm spoilt is that I can spend money on restoring a Morris Minor which, well, is frankly way beyond what it's worth. It's depressing that I can't spend as much as would return a car in brand-new condition with e-coated, resprayed shell. But it's pleasing to see people who care working on her. I spent a very pleasant couple of hours in the company of Jonathon and Martin of JLH, who have stripped out the engine bay and who both seemed endlessly disappointed in the quality of the previous workmanship. Apparently she's going to be shown as an example to someone else who was asking about the quality of Charles Ware's restorations.

Things like... the new chassis legs they fitted, they didn't weld them in correctly, (the tie plates weren't correctly welded to the chassis legs - in-fact, one long section wasn't welded at all, they just rested together); the hose that ran from the master cylinder to the brake fluid reservoir just rested on the brake pedal - so every time you braked you wore away the pipe. It would eventually wear through and fill the chassis leg with brake fluid. It's rust bubbling up along welds which weren't painted or protected well.

It's sad, really. It's sad that they chose to take my dad's money to do a shoddy job, it's sad that now 8 years on I look at her and know that the only true solution is way out of my pricerange at the moment, and it's sad that I'm having to pay a company to rectify things that should have been done properly 8 years ago. What is enjoyable, however, is watching someone who cares. Who points out the minor details and says 'do you want that fixed'. Who wants you to come to the workshop to see progress, and who takes time to explain what's wrong and what can be done to fix it.

And frankly, to see a repair section put in to the rusted away tie-plate so neatly done that when she's painted I won't remember it's there.

Hopefully, all the rest of it should come together okay... I'm looking forward to having her back, although without any drama*, Jejy took me there and back. There's a distinct smell of petrol at idle, which is quite unpleasant, which I need to look into; and I need to sort out the *other* leak, now that one of them seems to be fixed...

Anyhow, since the weather is chosing to be horrifically unkind to me (I swear it said it'd be dry today) I'll move on and do the abandoned building photos...

* Apart from the near complete descent to flatitude of one of the tyres. Seriously, I pulled off the motorway and was shocked, because it looked fine when I left this morning.

So, I've been contemplating a lot of things, 10 miles of running / walking around yesterday with little company but my head, and yet I can't actually remember what it was I was going to write about. Perhaps some updates on things will make me remember.

( car stuff )

Ah, yes. Whiny ranting. That's what I wanted to get to.

So, I know that part of the problem for me is that I want to leave this country. That does not make one prone to seeing the best in the place that you're in. I want to be in Canada, and so I look around and see things that support my decision to leave. And one of those things is what appears to be growing support for the scary conservatives.

Now, I do not for a moment think that the Conservative party are guaranteed a win in the UK, but the fact that it's a possible discussion point makes me depressed. They're clearly insane, having apparently suggested that older people going into care will now only need to make an £8500 contribution to their lifelong care. Um, since they're currently having to sell their houses (to make, say, a £175,000 contribution) I'm slightly interested to hear where the rest of that money's going to come from. Especially when combined with promise of tax-cuts (for the rich), although a big chunk is presumably going to come from taking those who actually need benefits off benefits, so that those who are cunning and sly and do defraud the system can continue to do so*.

I fear for what remains of the NHS, since Labour have continued to screw about with it. Although I do think that the NHS should run an ad-campaign which is actually proud of what we've achieved. So many of us in the NHS are disheartened that we forget we have damn good outcomes for a cut-price health service, and while a lot needs work (I do quite often wander around work thinking "Doing the impossible with the insufficient" is our slogan) it's a damn fine service in many ways, and we should stand up and slap the Daily Mailites for slagging it off. Hopefully I won't be here to watch as the NHS finally gets privatised, because that would be heartbreaking for me. And watching the Conservatives screw it over, again, well that I don't look forward to either.

And the final nail in the coffin for Britain, many Conservatives want to take us back out of Europe. Hey, people, this country has abandoned making anything... all we've got is a service economy... do you think that anyone's going to want a service economy from us if we're not part of Europe? At the moment we're part of the largest single market in the world, do they think all our problems will mysteriously get better if we're not part of Europe? Most of our problems, are, I suspect, due to the fact we piss about on the outskirts of being involved.

A large proportion of Conservatives surveyed, apparently, want us to have 'free trade' agreements (individually) with the countries of Europe and us to pull out of the Union. Do they really, truly believe that's a good idea or are they still living in the 50s, when we actually had some real say in the way the world runs.

We, as a country, need to get over ourselves. We are no longer the great Empire builders, we are just another (small) European country which is dependent on those around us to survive. What we should be doing is getting properly involved in Europe, ditching our pointless border protection (I can travel around the rest of Europe without a passport or even seeing a border**, how come I need one to get in and out of the UK). If we did that and concentrated on dealing with getting rid of the tiny minority of immigrants who really have come in inappropriately, and also stopped being so bloody xenophobic, this could still be quite a nice country - filled with people who actually want to work (that's the reason most immigrants come here, not for our arcane and complex benefits system). Instead we spend a lot of time looking inwards and complaining about immigration and saying how wonderful it would be if it was just us here.

Still, if the Conservatives do pull the UK out of Europe hopefully I'll be in Canada and can stand watching and laughing. With luck, Scotland and Wales will fight more for their independence so they can rejoin, and then hilarity will commence.

Anyhow, I'm going to stop whining about the UK, have a bath, and possibly commence working on the shower. I was going to go to B&Q but it appears to be raining. A lot. Again.

* Since those who defraud the system are the ones best equipped to make it through the maze of hurdles required to obtain benefits, particularly as the system gets more complex.
** The only one we encountered was on the way into France, and it wasn't staffed, it was an abandoned border crossing.

So, I've been quite good today, the only thing I haven't done is take the battery off my bike and charge it, something I'll do in a minute (I say again). Something is sucking power from the bike's battery, not a lot, but enough when she's standing, so I'll have to go hunt that down (ha! like that'll happen!).

I have however had a 7 mile run, taken back the hire car, take the now running correctly DAF from the MOT place to the Welder, walked 3 miles back (in the rain), stopping to get Kathryn's book (argh! Bastard 3fo2, and lack of will power*!), a pair of 'jogging bottoms' which I will proceed to ruin (I tried oxfam, and they had none; or at least none I'd not feel completely ridiculous wearing**).

I didn't go to JLH on the motorbike, partly thanks to a flat battery, and partly due to continuous horrid rain. There is, however, the faint possibilty that the number of MOT'd / Taxed vehicles may cross the 50% boundry for the first time in an age.



* Hence Danny the Champion of the World after moments of remembering curling up with family having opened the library edition that Kathryn had, and Stephen Fry in America, because I like Stephen Fry. Swines, the lot of them.
** Plum purple velvet? Black but with some great array of stars on my arse? No thanks.

So, I went to B&Q, this I hoped would cure my 'still feeling full' sensation from breakfast. I seem to have been getting that a lot of late, probably because my body doesn't like me eating then lazing around like some roman senator on the sofa. Anyhow.

So, I debated light(s) (for the larder) for a while before deciding that since I'm not thinking recessed lights, Kathryn ought to be there to decide with me, and I'll just move the cable (since it runs on top of the ceiling in there) wherever it needs to go. I debated 'cheating' and covering up the hole I'm about to make with an entire new sheet of plasterboard. This would mean that some of the ceiling would have a layer of lath & plaster, and some that plus plasterboard. A naughty bodge, and I debated for a bit before deciding to attempt to repair the laths afterward... Although I may well change my mind.

And then I looked at tiles for a bit, it seems they've stopped selling the 'Toronto' tiles that I laid in the bathroom, not a problem (I hope) because I've got spares to lay in that corner (where I took the tiles up), I'll just have to be careful, because the tile count isn't high. Annoyingly though, the adhesive and grout I used comes in *MASSIVE* tubs, and not little ones, and since the whole floor is done using it, I've had to get a *MASSIVE* tub of adhesive + grout to redo it.

Gah.

*And* It's not suitable for use on concrete floors (le *sigh*), which is what I need to tile downstairs. So, new plan, I suspect, is to get some fairly similar grey tiles for the front, and some more of that to do the larder. Of course, once we start the 'festival of tiling' I might as well do the kitchen wall tiles too. Woot.

Anyhow, since I seem to have gone from 'overfull' to 'starving hungry' I'm going to drink a little water and head out on an attempt at a run.

So, I'm trying to locate energy to work on the house, this would be easier if...well... if the house weren't worth less than the money I've put into it. That's pretty disheartening. To look around and think of the money that's been poured in, and I know that had I not done that it'd be worth less than I paid for it, but to think of the money that came from my dad's death and consider the possibility that I may not get it back.

That's upsetting. Frustrating. That was my Canada money. That was my get me out of this country and settle in another land money.

*sighs*

Which is why it's frustrating. The house is liveable, and spending time on it at the moment is hard to find enthusiasm for. Which is stupid, because it would be nicer if the jobs were done, it'd be nice if the lounge doors were stripped and painted. It'd be nicer if the bathroom floor were finished and all the sealant were done. It'd be nice if the kitchen panels were tiled/painted. It'd be nice if the ceiling in the bedroom were done.

Problem is, I need to get a decorator in to look at some of these jobs, and just have absolutely no enthusiasm for it. Another person coming in who makes a mess, and then buggers off leaving an just-adequately done job. I feel bad wanting to make a profit on a house, but we have spent a lot of blood, sweat and tears bringing it from a house with damp, cold, nasty rooms into a light airy place in which it's quite nice to actually live.

*Sighs*

Sorry, feeling less than positive - need to go running and waiting while I 'digest' my breakfast, because I have a tendancy to feel sick (even though my breakfast is pretty small) if I go running after breakfast.

Anyhow, my plan for the day is to cut the slot to gain access to the stairs, repair the stairs, and then do some work on prepping the bathroom floor to go back down. Maybe cut back the sealant in the shower. No great shakes, but hopefully enough that I'll feel like I've achieved something. I might pick up the tile adhesive and tiles for the front entrance bit, since it's the same as the ones for the bathroom.

I don't know why I'm being all negative today, there's no good reason for it, we went out last night (via Meetup) to a travel meeting group which was really nice. Just getting out and socialising was good.

Anyhow, I'm going to sit and poke at the computer or pop over to B&Q and then when I'm less full -> Run. When that's done I might get some house stuff done.

So I've been trying to persuade myself to work on the tax relief form, thing is, it was tedious finding the information the first time around, and while I may berate myself for not having kept a copy of it (although I may have, and have filed it somewhere odd), I frankly am pissed that they lost it. And am a little miffed at having to fill it it in again.

At any rate, I went and got the address and name of the person I need to send it to (a specific person with an actual name and an address). And then the Left channel cut out on the HiFi.

It's been doing this more and more of late, and while I'd initially put it down to a grubby connector - the state the volume control was in gave me that idea, while I was trying to coax it into working today another option occured.

Excuse the quality:


And after some stripping down and peering through the gap I realised that I was right to be suspicious. The speaker connectors are mounted on the board and their little legs provide a goodly chunk of the mechanical strength to hold them to the back of the case and the board. I can't say I'm surprised, modern 'engineering' is such that people seem to think that solder is an adequate means of attaching things - I was always told this is terrible practice because solder isn't very flexible, and once you've wiggled the joint around a bit, the joint breaks down, and you end up with a very intermittent connection.

I've had quite a few pieces of equipment that have come my way after this sort of fault. And it turned out that this was again the fault here - a small subtle crack around one of the left channel's connectors. So I resoldered it, and then looked at the board and thought, y'know, that bit doesn't look very healthy...



It does appear to be getting 'quite warm'. So after some internal discussion I decided to continue my procrastination and pulled the board out entirely, and I'm glad I did, because most of the connectors on that 'very warm' bit of board weren't really soldered anymore. Their solder had overheated and though it was probably connecting a bit, I wouldn't want to guarantee those connections.

To be fair, I'm not sure I want to guarantee those components either - they look like they've got a bit toasty warm - although none of them seem to be *specifically* the one that's got toasty warm. Which is odd. Maybe they've just always been ropey connections.

Anyhow, now that we have reliable stereo audio, I can get back to tax forms...

Actually, two different things. The revolting first, I feel.

So I decided to unblock the drain out at the back of the house, for one thing it smelt revolting, for another it wasn't really draining at any sensible speed anymore, and for a third, it needed doing.

I've been putting it off because, well, frankly it smelt worse than melaena, and I had no desire to go near it. But last night, with the back window open I decided you could actually smell the unpleasantness that was our drain and felt that just perhaps I should have a look at it.

This drain runs from the kitchen, and that's all. It used serve the downstairs bathroom too, but that's all concreted up, so it's just the sink crud that goes down there now. Well, washing machine, sink, dishwasher. Grey water, y'know.

To say it smelt bad was an understatement. Protected only by a pair of vinyl nitrile gloves I fished out the drain grate, and poked ineffectually at it with my rodding kit. It was fairly quickly clear that there was a load of solid crud at the bottom, mixed with food residue. Mmm.

I got the little trowel and started digging it out. It smelt awful.

Really, really, atrociously awful. Even with my nursing I struggled dealing with it. Having cleared the bottom it became apparent that this was not where the problem ended. No, the U-bend was also blocked...and it'd become apparent that it wasn't food that was blocking it. No, this was tile-grout/adhesive/leveling compound residue. Or it had been until it'd spent 6 months mixing with food at the bottom of the drain.

Unfortunately my little dinky rodding kit wasn't up to clearing it, so having persuaded as much of the water to run through the U as I could, and in the process given myself a brief shower in something revolting, I plunged my hands into the murky depths and pulled forth great slabs of nearly-set tile grout.

Thanks builders.

Most people know to wash that stuff away with *lots* of water when they clean tools, apparently you decided to skimp on that bit.

Anyway, it's now clear, and I've got changed, washed my clothes and had a bath (not in that order). And then I sat down to resolve the Tax issue.

The tax office had my tax reclaim over a year ago now, and it remains unactioned - apparently their new computer system has created 'a backlog' which means I'm unlikely ever to see my P60s, my P45s or any of the other paperwork I sent them at their behest. It was requested 2 months ago by my current tax office (from my old tax office where I sent it) - and has yet to appear. I suspect that there's no hope of me ever seeing it again.

To top it off, despite my hope that I'd taken a copy of it before I sent it, I appear not to have, and therefore get to fill in the tax reclaim form again... Woop. I do wonder though, what happens when they ask for my P60s again.