I've had a busy day. It's scorchio, really scorchio; again. I can't recall a summer in the United Kingdom like it but there again I missed lots of summers here.
I needed some new work shirts, I got a posh shirt not long ago from Hoggs at half price but I forgot I had it on and did a bit of stick welding and it now has several little holes in the front and sleeves. The moral learnt from this occurrence is to dry the blasted rods, check what I'm wearing,wear a boiler suit or get a new wife. Three decisions too many. If this fails as it did listen to my sister.
I used to use Oxfam, Shave the Children or Barnardo's for such things but am totally disillusioned with these so called charities. I cancelled my direct debits eighteen months ago as I decided they were working for themselves and not their customers.
Young Hanifa is still walking fifty miles a day for water, she still has flies in her eyes. The only thing my fiver a month to Oxfam has bought is a tap on the end of the water and a population explosion in an area that can't support humans. To be fair that's not all it bought. It helps employ an otherwise unemployable executive, a few pervs, a few peados and pays expenses for virtue signalling volunteers who may or may not be be pervy. To top it all poor Hanifa now gets covered in the dust kicked up by a Mercedes 4x4 driven by a charioteer walla going to give her mum one in exchange for a Twix and an apple whilst the poor mite is carting water. I guess she is lucky to be fetching the water. Not all children are so lucky as many will testify here. Import the third world and learn to tolerate the stick sharpeners and kiddy fiddlers. Their kultcher init.
I still give to charity. The Wee Frees and the dementia lot get it now. The former run a druggy place in Glenrothes. The latter no doubt waste it but at least it's wasted near home and unlike most charities they have an excuse for not be able to remember where the money went.
I also needed a new vapour/nicotine whatsit as the other fell out of my pocket and I drove over it. Idiot I am. Expensive business is this vaping but the lass taking my money mitigates some of the pain. She is Polish and a drop dead gorgeous mucky looking thirty odd year old. I asked her out for a pie and a pint but Polish or not there is nothing wrong with her command of English or her powers of discrimination. My visits to the vape shop remind me of that comedy programme where the bloke used to go for a take out coffee every morning. What was that called?
The new machine has arrived. The low loader driver is a wimp and unloaded it in the town. I acted as escort with head lamps on and hazards for the four mile saunter up the glen. Forgot the schools are out yet again. I'm driving the middle of the road with an arm out the window flapping up and down to stop traffic. The bus stops, I stop. He says am I okay, I say fine, he's only about twelve feet wide and it's not your bus. Other farmers and lorry drivers are no bother. The once a year drivers are a nightmare. They are on holiday, not in any sort of rush but insist on trying to squeeze a car were I'm telling them a car won't go, nor can the three we met today reverse. One was in such a tizzy I offered to back it up for her, the husband in the passenger seat with brood in the back chirps up saying you won't be insured and Abigail has only just passed her test. I did wonder how Abigail had passed but refrained from saying so. I thought the low loader driver a wimp. Made me wonder who fathered Abigail's children. He looked a bit of a Soyboy and she had a gob like the Mersey tunnel. Most likely an arse to match.
It's back.
In glorious HDR. The halos are free.
This is me and looking so thin. Worth every penny for tha cab screen.
She looks good, Nothing naughty like bearings in the dropped oils. A bit of rust, A couple of chains want splitting and maybe replacing, Belts are like new. The cost of chain lube is just silly but worth it. It's the stuff you soak chains in and it's all runny but after a bit it dries and works a treat. On a Fireblade driven hard for about three hundred miles but posh as this combine is it is not a Honda Fireblade.
Have fun.
I needed some new work shirts, I got a posh shirt not long ago from Hoggs at half price but I forgot I had it on and did a bit of stick welding and it now has several little holes in the front and sleeves. The moral learnt from this occurrence is to dry the blasted rods, check what I'm wearing,wear a boiler suit or get a new wife. Three decisions too many. If this fails as it did listen to my sister.
I used to use Oxfam, Shave the Children or Barnardo's for such things but am totally disillusioned with these so called charities. I cancelled my direct debits eighteen months ago as I decided they were working for themselves and not their customers.
Young Hanifa is still walking fifty miles a day for water, she still has flies in her eyes. The only thing my fiver a month to Oxfam has bought is a tap on the end of the water and a population explosion in an area that can't support humans. To be fair that's not all it bought. It helps employ an otherwise unemployable executive, a few pervs, a few peados and pays expenses for virtue signalling volunteers who may or may not be be pervy. To top it all poor Hanifa now gets covered in the dust kicked up by a Mercedes 4x4 driven by a charioteer walla going to give her mum one in exchange for a Twix and an apple whilst the poor mite is carting water. I guess she is lucky to be fetching the water. Not all children are so lucky as many will testify here. Import the third world and learn to tolerate the stick sharpeners and kiddy fiddlers. Their kultcher init.
I still give to charity. The Wee Frees and the dementia lot get it now. The former run a druggy place in Glenrothes. The latter no doubt waste it but at least it's wasted near home and unlike most charities they have an excuse for not be able to remember where the money went.
I also needed a new vapour/nicotine whatsit as the other fell out of my pocket and I drove over it. Idiot I am. Expensive business is this vaping but the lass taking my money mitigates some of the pain. She is Polish and a drop dead gorgeous mucky looking thirty odd year old. I asked her out for a pie and a pint but Polish or not there is nothing wrong with her command of English or her powers of discrimination. My visits to the vape shop remind me of that comedy programme where the bloke used to go for a take out coffee every morning. What was that called?
The new machine has arrived. The low loader driver is a wimp and unloaded it in the town. I acted as escort with head lamps on and hazards for the four mile saunter up the glen. Forgot the schools are out yet again. I'm driving the middle of the road with an arm out the window flapping up and down to stop traffic. The bus stops, I stop. He says am I okay, I say fine, he's only about twelve feet wide and it's not your bus. Other farmers and lorry drivers are no bother. The once a year drivers are a nightmare. They are on holiday, not in any sort of rush but insist on trying to squeeze a car were I'm telling them a car won't go, nor can the three we met today reverse. One was in such a tizzy I offered to back it up for her, the husband in the passenger seat with brood in the back chirps up saying you won't be insured and Abigail has only just passed her test. I did wonder how Abigail had passed but refrained from saying so. I thought the low loader driver a wimp. Made me wonder who fathered Abigail's children. He looked a bit of a Soyboy and she had a gob like the Mersey tunnel. Most likely an arse to match.
It's back.
Have fun.
