du temps perdu

So, I get out the strimmer and start to anticipate the pleasure of outdoor work on a lovely day, bolstered by knowing that the rain starts again tomorrow, making strimming very hard.

First I discover mice have gnawed the cable. Heck. I shorten it, and then find the plug is one of the welded on Elven Safety kinds. I go in search of a new plug, find it on a broken toaster, and remove it, and then refit it to the strimmer.

The phone rings. I answer it. It is a call form a hospital patient whose name is mumbled and I don;t know if I known them or not. I call back. It is a premium rate, and they get their money’s worth out of me by telling me this at extraordinary length. I leave a message.

I strim. the strimmer reaches no distance at all, and I run out of flex. I track down the extension lead, which had been used to light the chicken shed. I have to cut the wire to get it back. I pull the wire back. I wire up the end of the socket (the kind you use outdoors). After I have done this, I find the mice have eaten through the flex. I cut out the damaged flex and re-wire the socket.

My son rings. We chat. Then I find there is still damaged flex. I cut out the damaged flex. I rewire the plug this time (other end of wire). Then I discover I have lost a screw and cannot close the plug. I hunt for the screw. I find a new plug and unwire it. I re-cut the ends of the cable to suit the new plug. I rewire the plug.

I come in for a cup of tea and a modest slice of bread and a tomato. I blog. Gentle reader, this has taken most of the afternoon. The blogging was the SHORT bit. I am still hoping to get SOME strimming done, but no longer will it be the whole garden, not anyhow.

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One response to “du temps perdu

  1. Poor Rosemary, you couldn’t make it up, could you? Hope you managed to tame some of the garden at least after all that.

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