Design flaw

The door of my eldest daughter’s washing machine recently parted company from the machine itself. On inspection, I could see that the door was attached with two screws, through the hinge, directly into corresponding holes in the front of the casing. The screws were short and probably self tapping, since there was nothing obvious to receive them. I effected a temporary repair, using silicone, knowing it would only last a day. It lasted two.

When the door once more rejoined the floor, I took it home to drill larger holes in the hinge to accommodate more substantial screws. The new metal drill bits, purchased when fitting stove pipes, worked a treat, drilling through 3mm of hinge in seconds. The replacement, slightly larger, screws fitted the hinge perfectly too. When finished, I removed the drill bit I’d used and inserted the original masonry bit.

On the morning of the day I’d arranged to return with the newly drilled door, I picked up the bag of new screws from the kitchen table (from among the other packs of screws I’d been considering) when leaving for work. At the last minute, I also decided to take the drill in case larger screws were needed.

That evening, after work, I attempted to re-fit the door. Unfortunately, it transpired that I’d pocketed the wrong packet of screws. They were too small and wouldn’t bite. So there was a trip home to collect the correct packet. Which were also slightly too small.

I returned this evening with larger screws. Which wouldn’t fit the holes in the bracket. Fortunately, I’d left my drill at my daughter’s, so I was able to drill larger holes. Or at least attempt to. Regrettably, the masonry bit proved to be wholly ineffective. So, once more, I needed to return home to collect the appropriate drill bits.

To conclude, my repair was successful. The door appears to be firmly reattached. Since my second in command had acted as taxi driver on both occasions, she may not have been entirely pleased with my errors. It’s possibly no coincidence that, as a reward for successfully repairing the washing machine, I was allowed to watch the Liverpool – Manchester United game this evening.

Quatermass

Or rather, Quatermass ii. The whole series, from 1955, is on YouTube. The film quality isn’t brilliant, but it matches my (very young) childhood memory. The sound’s surprisingly good though; I’m assuming it’s been cleaned up.

It’s so bad, it’s actually quite good. Quatermass and the Pit next I think. It won’t take long to watch this series, since they’re only half hour episodes.

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Before you consider viewing too, be warned that it’s unsuitable for children or those of a nervous disposition.

Reconciliation

They’re so beautiful, said Steph McGovern this morning on BBC Breakfast. She was talking about newly born lambs, in an interview with a farmer in Wales. Part of the whole EU debate, of course. The farmer described how the lambs stay with their mothers for a whole 24 hours before being moved to a separate pen, to learn about life.

A strange choice of word, life, since the interview then moved on to talk about the proportion of lamb production destined for export to Other Member States.

I find it rather sad that we can look on these creatures, effectively babies, as both cute and tasty.

Mr Everett

I must confess that I suspected a hoax when my youngest daughter told me that E, Mark Oliver Everett of Eels, appears in a new Netflix series, Love.

Naturally, curiosity got the better of me and, sure enough, there he is in episode four.

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He doesn’t exactly act in this scene, but maybe he’s branching out a little. I’ll say now that I didn’t watch the first three episodes.

Father Jack

Father Jack is no longer with us. Sadly, Frank Kelly passed away today. If there was a God, which there obviously isn’t, one would connect the date to the passing of Father Ted himself. So sad though.

For a minute or two, just listen and appreciate.

Aches

After a day of decorating at my mother’s, I’m somewhat achey. Fortunately, I have a vitamin drink to restore me to normal.

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