hirez: (dissent)
[personal profile] hirez
The thing I was going to write yesterday, but mutated into whining about IP addresses, turned out to be slightly deeper than I expected.

For reasons of retro, or perhaps for reasons of 'These are the things we have lying about' the washing line isn't a collapsible hurdy-gurdy (as Pa named all things that went round and round) like modern people from the seventies have to hang their bri-nylon outside so as to catch all the instant sunshine provided by a WE.177C free-fall thermonuclear device.

(Is is perhaps coincidence that people wore fewer nylon undergarments as CMOS logic became more popular?)

No. We do not have that sort of thing because our back garden is a nuclear-free zone. The front garden is handy for the front door, so is often at home to my Alpha-particle-emitting key fob. Which has been glowing quietly for at least twenty years.

So in our nuclear-free garden we must keep something that is not of the seventies and will not remind people of such things lest they have a march and make a right mess of the strawberries, the careless CND bastards. Thus the washing line is held up by a pair of what I'm fairly sure are scaff poles. They've gone a lot rusty and the hammerite I applied about a decade ago is beginning to flake off as the rust blooms outwards like spaceship fungus.

The one nearest the house has also been leaning at more and more of a drunken angle since the thing that was holding it upright no longer works.

There is an unknown length of RSJ (I-beam to everyone else) concreted into the garden, and it would be at an ideal height to bark one or other shin upon, were it not set in line with a low wall that holds up the alleged rockery. There is (or was) a very rusty V-bolt more-or-less pinning the bottom of the scaff pole to that RSJ, with the rotten remains of a lump of wood that was originally providing some squidge to tighten the V-bolt against.

It had all rotted out. A week or so ago, I poked at the thing with a stick, worked out how big the V-bolt was, and realised with something of a sinking feeling that I was setting a chain of events in motion when I toddled upstairs to order replacement bolts off the internets. I had also decided to buy myself an angle-grinder as a present, because, well, angle-grinder. Also because the existing V-bolt was single rusty lump and there wasn't enough WD-40 in the known universe to free off its nuts. (ooer, etc.)

The replacement V-bolts arrived on Saturday morning. The sun was bright and the air was clear and I peered at the things as they sat on the table, wishing for an excuse. I thought that I might as well inspect the old V-bolt again, since I would need to find a lump of wood in the shed to replace the rotten section. I waggled the pole back and forth, experimentally. Then thought 'Oh fucking bollocks to everything' and hauled at it. It lifted right out, which was tiresome. I scraped out the weeds, earth and rotten wood. The bottom end of the scaff pole came out next. It had completely rusted out, which is why I was able to move it at all.

I was committed now.

I dug out a junior hacksaw (I have several, but can only ever find one at a time) and cut away the rusty bolt. At some point, silly-sod the previous owner had performed some more concreting and made it impossible to replace the V-bolt, so I attacked that with a bolster until there was enough elbow room. In the shed, where I have been clearing space, I found the right lump of wood to squidge between RSJ and scaff pole.

I had the thing back in place and bolted firmly upright before I really knew what I was doing.

If there's a take-away from any of this, it's that I have some difficulty diving into projects that I'm not entirely sure about. 'Some difficulty' in this case probably also parses as 'sinking feeling and nameless dread, why not go and waste the afternoon on social media instead?' which is no real way to run a railroad.

The upside to some of this is that I obviously have collected enough random bits of wood that they're starting to come in very handy indeed. And also that there's the start of enough space in the shed/garage to be able to think small thoughts without having to go outside to change your mind.
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