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.


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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