After searching fruitlessly in all the odd corners of the 'shop over the last couple of months, my long treasured pot of Vaseline has finally re-emerged, having been lurking undisturbed in a cardboard box in the house. How it got there, I have absolutely no idea, but it's now been restored to it's rightful position in the drawer under the honing bench.
So it's appropriate then, that I offer the most 'umble and sincere apologies to anyone remotely under suspicion of tea-leafing it...but I'm sure there was a bit more in it a few months ago!
On an entirely different note, it's amazing how different jobs crop up that need one's immediate attention. My daughter is going to do an MA in the Autumn in Forensic Archaeology (that's studying old skellingtons) and has just bought a very tasty MacBook computer, so I'd said that I'd make her a desk for her room. "When do you want it for Megs?" says I...hoping that some time in the next couple of months would suit.
"Next week will be OK, ta" replies Megs.
What can you say except...
"fine, no worries, I'll crack on with it"
...so me and SWIMBO had no option but to have a run out to In-Excess in the Landy at the weekend and pick up some decent 25mm laminated pine boards that were going for a song...certainly a quarter the price of similar stuff in the 'sheds' in town. I don't mind using it for these sorts of projects 'cos it saves all the hassle of preparing the timber stock and means that a reasonable job can be knocked out relatively quickly. By the close of play on Sunday night I'd managed to sort out the main unit, top, dovetailed plinth and end frame. The next bits to do will be to make the drawer and the stand for the printer, which ought not to take too long. Construction is pretty fundamental as most of the timber was squared on the K419 tablesaur and then banged together with biscuits, so a lot can be achieved quite quickly.
On a more sombre tone, speaking of things that are lost, I had to have one of our cats put down last night at the vets. We'd had Smokey (a pedigree British Blue) since she was a kitten in 1994, so she was over 15 years old, which is a good age for any cat. She'd developed a urinary infection and was continually passing blood mixed with urine (caused by a large stone in her bladder according to the vet) and that particular area was just starting to get infested with maggots. She also had a heart defect and was starting to become seriously arthritic. The vet clipped all the fur away and after some discussion agreed that she was suffering and the kindest thing to do was to put her down, which I agreed to. Megs was with me in the surgery and was fairly devastated, but she also said that leaving her with the vet was the best and kindest thing to do. Decisions like this are never easy and I was pretty choked as well, but logic has to prevail and the right decision has to be taken, which I think I did.
So all in all, a fairly crap evening had by all...c'est la vie, ne'st pas?