Legends from our own lunchtimes

Thursday, October 10, 2013

Big marks where he's been.
Lagarde 13th September

When Mr Perkins left for his holiday, he didn't bother to clean up after himself, he just sort of jiggled away on Duncan's trailer singing a merry song.

We have four days of rain left before we leave, and the list of jobs which we didn't do last year has been growing at a distressing rate, soon to become the list of jobs we didn't do this year either I'm afraid, but no matter what the weather, we have to clean up the engine bay before Mr P's return.  

Normally the term "we" in connection with work of this nature is code for "someone other than l, but since sadly she was rather occupied doing equally or even more productive stuff like cleaning the backs of all the cupboards to within an inch of their lives, there was no one else left in the line of volunteers.

All was not lost though, with a bit of gentle convincing, Bill came to the rescue tying us to another boat and dragging our dear engineless mess to somewhere within reach of the steam cleaning rig.   If I was going to get wet and messy, at least it would be warm water.

Even steam and some sort of chemical so vicious that it made my eyes water and what was left of my skin turn a deathly colour, couldn't remove all of the third of a century of oily sludge that had seeped into the pores of the fibreglass, but it made a promising start.

It took nearly as long to get the mess off me though, and when I finally did, one can only imagine how much I was looking forward to doing it all again on the morrow using only a scrubbing brush and gritted teeth.

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