:: Diary - June 2012 ::

:: Sunday, MayJune 3, 2012 ::

Well, after the debacle that was the TVR Car Club meeting last month, we have arranged to have a run up to Loch Rannoch this month. The main group are leaving from Stirling, and we are meeting them near Perth. So it's up early, roof panels in the boot, off for fuel (jelly babies for me, petrol for the car) and then over to Dave's house.

There is a stranger there who says his name is Mike, and I do vaguely remember him. He's been allowed out to play with the rough boys today. Jim and Brian also turn up so we have a convoy of 4! After the long trail through miles and miles of average speed camera where they are building the new Forth Bridge, we finally get a shift on, and arrive at the agreed meeting point near Perth, where we meet up with Hugh and another new S-boy, Fergus. We latch on to the rear of the main group as they pass, and soon catch up (it's a twisty road so the big TVRs can't use their power advantage, but we can use our go-kart advantage). Despite the efforts of one or two dawdlers, we manage to stay together all the way up the road.

And now it's time for this month's competition. Do you recognise this car? It's a bit blurry because even the camera was blinking with astonishment. Yes it's Adrian's Chimaera, complete with new exhaust manifolds and new MOT! And it's only June!

The hotel is very nice, but the service is slow. I'm turning into a bleeding Fawlty Towers hotel inspector, I know, but why can't swanky establishments get their act together? At least it's proper plates of food, not plates decorated with blobs and patterns of coloured sauce with the odd tiny bit of food placed strategically between.

Much discussion ensues over lunch and then afterwards, out in the car park, about exhausts, prop shafts, carpets, starter motors, hotels and chassis repairs.

Then it's time to head home. The plan is to go home a different way, but when we get to the junction where we branch off onto the return route, Hugh heads back the way we came, because that's where he lives. Unfortunately Brian follows him instead of the rest of the group, so being the shepherd I am, I head off in that direction as well. We find our way back over some great driving roads, tanking along (well below the speed limit, obviousy).

I've said it before. This wee car is just brilliant.

When I get home I've got eleventy-seven missed calls, all telling me I went the wrong way. I knew that!

:: Monday, MayJune 4, 2012 ::

I have the Cerbera booked in for a show for the Sporting Bears this Sunday, so I need to bring it back from the farm for a bit of a freshen up, and take the S along and leave it there meantime.

However, when I collect the Cerb, I decide to have a wee run because it's a nice morning. I saw a nice spot for photos the other day so I decide to see how they look.

An icon of British engineering at its best. Sorry about the rusty old bridge in the background.

:: Saturday, June 9, 2012 ::

Got an email from one of my regular readers today, which pointed out that, fast though a Cerbera is, it's not as fast as Superman and so can't turn back time. All of my entries so far this month said "May" when, of course, it's June (or January if you read the weather forecasts). So I've fixed it.

Here come the excuses. If you're fed up listening to trite explanations for cock-ups (ie if you watch the news about any given government budget policy) then look away from your screens now. You see, because this site is written in html (the equivalent of having a monk write it with gold leaf and a quill, when everybody else is using word processor and web-builder software on fandabby comnputers) it doesn't just add new pages every month automatically. Oh no. The process involves not just adding a page, but also changing the links on 3 other pages so that "Diary" is always "this month" and is renamed next month, when the new page then becomes "diary" and "this month" becomes whatever this month is (June12 in this case) when it becomes "last month". The reference in the to "diary" in the page for the month before, when "diary" was this month, won't work when "diary" becomes last month so you have to change that month's entry too. Simple, see?

Anyway, in the middle of all that technological wizardry I forgot to change the bit that people actually read, which you would think would be the main priority.

It's all fixed now though, and you can't see the join. Much.

There's a new owner started up a web site on the TVR S - his is the very car that was on Top Gear a couple of years ago, and was used to convey a garden shed to TVR's old factory in Blackpool. He's using proper web-builder software too, so no cock-ups on the horizon there.

I started this site in a web-blog site originally, but that only lasted about a week, before I got fed up with the site software deciding what it wanted to do, and not letting me decide. So that's why it's in html, and pish. But controllable!

Right, enough random ramblings. Tomorrow the Cerbera is taking part in "Dream Rides" for the Sporting Bears, so I have been out in the garage for a couple of hours last night and on Wednesday, giving it a bit of a clean and tidy. It's looking tidy - I think I'll sell it. Maybe.

:: Sunday, June 10, 2012 ::

Well today was an interesting day. The car is taking part in "Dream Rides" for the Sporting Bears at a car show down in the Borders. I promised to be there by about 8am to finish setting up the stand (we spent hours there yesterday until the rain cane on). So it's out to the garage at 6.45, start up the car and trundle off as quietly as we can (well, until we are out of earshot of anybody who knows where I live).

With the stand set up, it's time for the drivers' briefing, the usual "no biting, no kicking, no wrapping yourself round bus shelters" kind of thing, and then we're open to the public.

My first customer is a young lad who seems to enjoy the run, and when we get back, one of the others asks him what he thought. His response is "Christ he might look old and sensible but he's not!" Kind of heartwarming in a backhanded compliment kind of way.

My second customer is another lad whose objective is to put the windows down as we come back slowly along the High Street, so that he can wave to his mates and be the talk of his school tomorrow. Which he accomplishes with barely-contained excitement as we have to stop right beside his mates to wait behind a right-turner. He's happy.

When I take my third customer out, the car seems to hesitate briefly under acceleration. When I get back, I mistakenly get 4th gear instead of reverse as I am manouevring back into my space, and the car won't re-start - the starter doesn't turn at all. WIth the car pushed into position (under the gaze of several "Top Gear" believers) a series of checks shows that fuse 5 "Starter Motor Solenoid" has blown.

Replace fuse. Try starter. Nothing. Check fuse. Blown. Oh dear.

With the help of Phil the Morganeer, we remove the windscreen panel and have a look down at the starter wiring (or the bit of it you can see without dismantling half the car to take the starter out). Nothing obvious. However, in the course of jiggling wiring about, there is a sudden flash of sparks, but neither of us see where it came from because our hands were in the way. That's with the ignition and starter circuit switched off, though, so it doesn't look good.

We jiggle the wires some more, and push connectors tight together. Check fuse, try starter - it starts!

At this point my fourth customer arrives, so off we go again - another delighted customer who at one point says "what are you going to do when you catch up to that old Mini" followed by me saying 3 seconds later "what Mini?" When we get back, I switch off and wait until he's out of the car, and try the starter. Nothing.

Replace fuse. Remove fuse. It's fine. OK so it's not just blowing as a backfeed or something.

Replace fuse. Turn on ignition for a bit. Remove fuse. It's fine. OK so far.

Replace fuse. Turn on ignition. Try starter. Nothing. Remove fuse. Blown. Not ok.

Whatever the fault is, I am not going to be able to diagnose it and fix it today, in a field, with limited tools (in fact, no tools of my own). The starter motor, of course, is right beside the main fuel and return lines, an area in which Cerbs (and Chimaeras) are notorious for bursting into flames. Although mine has (fairly) new hoses wrapped in heatshield foil, I decide at this point that I had better not take out any more passengers, since they have enough trouble figuring out which button to press to get out, without having flames licking around their vitals. The alternative, in the form of a pre-flight safety demonstration "in the event that the car catches fire, the nearest exit is over there, just pull the emergency handle under the carpet" is also not appealing.

So instead I help with general manouevring around the garage, guiding people to their cars and finding their drivers, and chatting to the passing public. I also spend a bit of time chatting to the lunatic in the car next to mine, a Pembleton Grasshopper (think Morgan 3 wheeler but built in your own garage, starting with a Citroen 2CV). He was here last year and I thought it looked fantastic. This year he's fitted a Moto Guzzi bike engine, and it looks and sounds even better.

At the end of the day, when the public have tailed off, I ask him for a shot, so we make the booking and off we go.

It's absolutely brilliant. Insane, completely bonkers like its owner, but brilliant! I do not recall ever enjoying a drive like this, and that includes various laps of Knockhill in various machines. It's pure, raw, unadulterated driving pleasure, and all at speeds that, in the Cerbera, feel almost sedate. It sounds absolutely amazing, you can feel every change in road surface. you can hear every gear change, and like a Caterham, you can see the front wheels turning and the front suspension working, right at your feet. I love it. I don't think I could stand it for a long fast journey, but for a twist blatt, it's absolutely superb. On the way back, he tells me he's just back from a week touring Wales with the club - 1,000 miles or so in one of these, in a week.

He is real enthusiast, a true petrolhead, and as mad as a box of frogs. And an inspiration.

He also knows where there is a part-built kit for sale. Oh no... don't tell me that now, when my enthusiasm for all things Cerbera is at another low.

When we get back, we tidy away all the gear, take down the tents etc, and then Ron agrees to escort me home with his fire extinguisher. Brian also lends me one to carry in the car.

Needless to say, the car behaves immaculately all the way home. I park it in the garage (that originally mistyped as "rage" and that's not far off either) and remove the widscreen panel and disconnect the battery until I can get time to look at it. If I can bear to.

The answer to the question "what can you possibly buy to replace a Cerbera" might have taken an unexpected turn!

:: Monday, June 11, 2012 ::

I decided late in the afternoon to have a look at the Cerbera. The fuse hasn't blown again, which is promising, but I'm not going to reconnect the battery to try it - I'm going to take it to bits and have a proper look at the starter.

At least this is a job I am familiar with!

So the first step is to disconnect the connecting rod between the left hand and right hand throttle mechansims. Two 8mm bolts and it's off. Then disconnect the cable by turning the throttle and disengaging the nipple from the throttle end.

Then I remove the left hand air intake hose (two very large jubilee clips) and the left hand air box (5 allen screws and pull off a rubber vacuum hose, and it just lifts off).

Now for the fuel rail. First I disconnect the injectors, and then the 18mm connector on the fuel feed pipe, it's not under pressure, but there is still a lot of fuel in there, so I have a couple of old rags ready to soak up the fuel that runs out.

Then I disconnect the jubilee clip holding on the fuel return pipe, and that lets me pull the fuel rail out, complete with injectors. I prop it against the wall with rags over it to keep out any muck and millipedes.

Then I disconnect the woring to the left hand throttle position sensor, and another couple of vacuum hoses, and then remove 6 more allen cap bolts holding the left hand inlet manifold on. Then I loosen both of the wee bolts on top of the ,amifold, holding it down to the rocker cover, and carefully remove the shims under the manifold (if you're not careful, the shim can drop down one of the inlet port when you lift the manifold).

Finally, I remove the throttle cable end plate from the left hand manifold and recover the shims, and roll the throttle cable back out of the way. Then I cut the cable ties holding the fuel pipe to the bulkhead, so that I can wriggle the starter motor past them.

Now finally I can reach the starter motor!

The starter motor is held onto the bellhousing by two big cap bolts. I pull off the heatshield abd then use a very long socket extension (well, 2 added together) to remove those, then lift and twist the motor until the electrical connections are upwatds. Then it's relatively simple to remove the 13mm bolt on the main connection, and the solenoid connection, and lift the motor out of the space between the bulkhead and the engine.

Here's the space that the motor comes out of, The electrical connections are away back under that bulkhead, well out of reach.

And here's the motor and the heat shield. I've highlighted two separate problems.

The main problem I started with was that the solenoid actuation wire was folded tight around the back of the solenoid, and had chafed through and was shorting against the edge of the solenoid itself, hence the blowing fuses.

I was confused though by the flashy sparks when I was jiggling wires, even when the ignition and starter were switched off. What happened there was that as I wriggled hands in to jiggle the solenoid wire, it moved the heat shield back and looks like the C-clip must have slid over the back of the solenoid and touched the terminal on the main lead from the battery, and of course earthed it through the starter body. The main cable terminal is black, and as you can see, the C-clip has a nice melted arc in the side of it, and the disappearing metal is probably what stopped the short!

I also remember when I pointed out the heat shield to Phil the Morganeer, touching it and tugging it forwards a bit so he could see it, although I didn't make the connection (if you excuse the pun) between that and a short.

So the first job is to repair the solenoid wire with some silicone and a couple of turns of insulating tape. Then I reinstall the starter, first wriggling it in upside-down, and replacing the main leads, making sure that the insulating covers are properly in place. Then I turn it and manouevre it into position, and replace the two cap bolts, before reconnecting that solenoid wire.

Here's the motor back in position. This photo suggests there is a lot of space between the starter and the bulkead behind it and over the top, but there really isn't. Then I reinstall the heat shield, making sure that it's not fitted so far back.

And that, boys and girls, takes us to dinner time, and the end of Cerbera repair activities for today.

Tomorrow I really do need to get on with some bleeding work. I suppose.

I also have the garage coming back to collect the Lexus to try to get the paintwork right this time.

I am also being chased by desperately ill-informed ambulance-chasing parasites (also known as accident management companies) who phone to ask if I have any injuries as a result of the accident, that might require a claim against the person responsible. Seeing as that person was me, and I have no injuries anyway, it doesn't take long to explain politely that their services will not be required. Their persistence however exceeds my politeness, and the term "ambulance- chasing parasites" soon slips into the conversation, at which point they realise that perhaps I am not likely to be persuaded.

The second company that phones me today gets a fast-forward past politeness, straight to the parasite stage. They don't hang about on the phone for long either, after that.

:: Tuesday, June 12, 2012 ::

Well I got the Cerbera back together this morning - I'll spare you the step by step details but it involved replacing the throttle cable linkage, the left hand inlet manifold and three vacuum hoses, then the fuel rail and the feed and return lines, then reconnecting the throttle pot and the injectors, replacing the airbox and intake hoses, and reconnect the battery. It started and more importantly, it kept going. I haven't given it a run yet though - I had to hang around until they came and collected the Lexus to take it back to the bodyshop.

The man jumped out of the lorry with a marker pen. He said it was to mark where the defects were. I said he'd be better with a wallpaper brush and some ink. The "defect" is everywhere - the car is swirly, the new paint is orange peely, a bit of the headlining has come loose, and the door still doesn't shut right. He puts the marker pen away and writes down what I tell him.

Poor guy - I tell him that I realise that he's the poor sod at the front line who has to listen to me moaning, but he promises to take back to his manager that I'm not happy.

After he's written all this down, he gives me the form to sign, backed by a cardboard folder. I pick it up off the boot and hold it against my arm to sign, and then hand it back. He puts it back on the boot. At this point I tell him that I would never put a cardboard folder down on my own car to write in it, and certainly not on a customer's car, and especially not if I worked for a body and paint shop, and definitely not if the cardboard folder had staples through it. He looks sheepish and says it was only the once. I tell him that so far he's put it down to write, on both sides of the bonnet, one side of the roof, and the centre of the boot. He looks even more sheepish.

I do catch a glimpse inside the folder, of the email that has been sent to them from my insurer, and their own internal email from the manager to the bodyshop which says "we had better get this right". I decide to add to their concern by saying that when I get the car back, I'll be taking it to my own bodyshop man (3rd generation of a 100-year-old family business) for his opinion. He writes that down as well. This time with the cardboard folder against the flatbed of his lorry. He's learning.

Then I had to hang about some more while I waited for a replacement car to be delivered. That was about 2 hours later (so at least I got some work done as well).

I think that, when I am attending events in future, I should trailer the car there. Behind a very big van sponsored by Snap-On or Draper or something, fully equipped with all the tools I need to perform these repairs at the roadside. Either that or I need a Star-Trek like matter transporter beam, so that I can download some obscure spanner size when I'm in the middle of a field in the borders.

I know what I need to take to shows! A classic AA van! Yaaaas! The perfect solution! (I just thought of that when I was writing that bit there - brilliant eh?)

:: Friday, June 15, 2012 ::

The Lexus repairer called today (note that this isn't my Lexus garage, this is the repairer chosen by my insurer). They say that the car is repaired, and is awaiting inspection, and will be delivered early next week.

:: Saturday, June 16, 2012 ::

Adrian has arranged a visit to a TVR Dealer 100 miles away - the one that I take my Cerbera to. He's arranged sandwiches and a look around the workshops. Well worth a 200 mile round trip. What he hasn't arranged (and you would think he would have learned after Chatsworth) is half-decent weather. It's absolutely pishing down.

But we are made of sterner stuff, aren't we? Well, nearly not, but I do eventually decide to get the Cerbera out of the garage and sail to where we have agreed to meet. I get there really early, and coincidentally (seeing as it was me who suggested this place to meet) there is a Little Chef right beside it. Well, if I sit in the car, I'm just going to steam all the windows up, so in the interest of condensation minimisation, I go into the LC.

A very nice young lady tells me that they have a special offer - a sausage butty and a cup of tea or coffee for £2.69. I don't like tea/coffee, so I say I'll have that but with a soft drink instead. The sandwich is brilliant - 3 or 4 sausages. When they bring the bill though, they have charged me £4-something for the butty and another £2 for the drink. "Hang on" says I, "surely it's £2.69 plus the drink, at most?"

"Ah, no, you didn't have tea."

"Well I'll have a cup now then."

"That'll be extra because you didn't order it at the same time."

I decide not to argue because I know (because my youngest daughter has worked in a few hotels and cafes) that these kind of people sometimes deduct any "shortfall" from the wages of their staff, who don't get paid that much in the first place, and it wasn't her fault that their rules are so stupid.

You wonder though, how these bloody places survive.

Anyway, by this time the rest of our party have arrived. That's Philip, in his S. Adrian also turns up, but not in a TVR, it misfires when it's wet. I know the feeling. There are a few more going straight there from the Glasgow direction, but it looks like numbers for our visit ar drastically depleted by the rain. Wimps. Dry, though.

So off we go, "skelping on through mud and mire, despising wind and rain and fire" (that's Burns in case your education only covered posh poets) and also despising quite a few members of the "40mph everywhere" club and the "canny overtake here" club (who I think I may have mentioned in my ramblings before). My own overtaking ability is curtailed by the fact that big wide tyres on a light car mean that I am half-driving and half-waterski-ing, so my arse is twitching like a rabbit's nose for most of the first bit of the journey.

It brightens up a bit (by one shade of grey) for the second bit, and the rain even goes off at one point, so better progress is made after we have passed the tractor after following it through about 2 miles of non-manual-compliant double white lines.

So we get to the dealer, have some food, then it's time for the workshop. Tony kindly volunteers my car to go on the ramp, after asking "there's nothing wrong underneath is there" to which "well there better not be after the amount I've paid you to make sure there isn't". Touche, I think is the expression.

Inevitably, though, while they are showing how to do their checks, they do find something - the top differential bush. To be fair, they did tell me at the last service that it was cracking, but now it's falling apart. Well you don't need to have a caption competition to figure out what I'm saying in this photo. It's "aw fer feck's sake".

I also discover that my exhaust system is missing a complete bracket and mounting on the middle section, which will explain why the back of it moves around so much. I'll have to find out how that works and fabricate something suitable to replace the constantly-snapping brace that my exhaust man put on (my old exhaust that he took off, didn't have any bracket there either).

We also have a look around the cars for sale. They have quite a variety, including George and Rhona's old Tuscan (which says it is "sold"), and a very nice 350SX (the very rare supercharged version, also "sold"). They also have a 2002 Bentley Continental *the 2-door coupe one), which I have a seat in, and it's very nice. Then I shut the door and it doesn't have the solid feel and sound I expected. The interior is very very nice though, very comfy. The armrest squeaks a bit though (well, quite a lot really) and that would get on my wires in no time. So I decide not to buy it.

Then it's time for the journey back, following a carefully modified route to avoid the passage of the olympic torch. TVRs are flammable enough without going past somebody holding a big lighter.

The journey back is equally wet, brightened up only by a balloon in a Mazda RX8 who just HAS TO show the TVRs that his car is faster, by overtaking us in hops behind a horsebox. Gaun yersel' pal. He kind of spoils it when he turns left onto the A68 and guffs his gearchange, coming almost to a stop, but he's soon on his way again, regardless of bends and crests.

A wee stop for fuel and then we're home, safe and sound. Apart from at the very last roundabout before my street, where I am turning right and the car goes into a lurid tailslide, but it's all soon back under control, nobody noticed. Well apart from the guy who was up my chuff for the last mile or so, who is now hanging back an inordinately generous distance. Good man.

:: Monday, June 18, 2012 ::

The garage calls about the Lexus and says that the car is ready and awaiting an inspection “this afternoon”, with an assurance that they will call tomorrow.

While I am listening to that message (I have heard their pish before, and am recording their messages) I receive another call from someone else at the same garage, telling me that the car isn’t finished, and is being polished. Something not quite consistent there. Useless pricks.

:: Tuesday, June 19, 2012 ::

Late in the afternoon, I get fed up waiting for them to call me, so I call in the afternoon. They say the car is being polished and will be ready for inspection tomorrow and delivered on Thursday. So they have gone no further forwards since yesterday, and backwards since Friday. Useless pricks.

I explain that I am going on holiday on Thursday, so either I get my car back or they can hire me another decent one. They say it would be delivered tomorrow.

The TVR Garage also phones and I book the Cerbera in to get the differential bushes sorted.

:: Wednesday, June 20, 2012 ::

Bright and early, the Lexus car turns up on a lorry. As soon as the lorry turns the corner outside my window, I see that the paintwork is rubbish: it's covered in swirl marks. To be fair, by the time the lorry has turned around and parked, it's clear that the swirl marks are only on the side that wasn’t painted, but they are also apparent on the bonnet and the drivers side (although not to the extent that they were). The paint is still orange-peely in places.

To add to the fun, there's a new vertical scratch on the nearside front wing, between the wheel arch and the door mirror.

I note this on the form the lorry driver gave me to sign. I also note, as soon as I get into the car, that the driver’s door trim is detached along the whole of its rear edge, and moves when you pull the door closed. I add that to the form.

So let's recap. The door now shuts properly. The headlining is fixed. That’s 2 faults sorted out of 4.

Unfortunately, the new scratch and the loose door trim takes us back to 4 faults. So I am no further forward.

I phone the insurance assessor who came out to look at the car and persuaded me to give the garage another chance. He also told me the car would be inspected by him and the garage manager vefore it was returned to me. It soon becomes apparent that this hasn't happened, and that only Stevie Wonder and Ray Charles have signed off the car, so far.

I try to phone the insurance company customer service, but they aren't answering the phone. Useless pricks.

The garage does call, full of apologies, but I tell them of the inconsistencies in theior previous updates, so I am not inclined to believe them.

So herte I am, still waiting for somebody to tell me what they are going to do about this mess.

:: Thursday, June 21, 2012 ::

Well it was announced on PH today that S Club has been cancelled, because not enough people have signed up and the organiser fears a personal financial risk. I'm not sure that I completely understand - yes people have ordered mugs and T shirts and stuff (presumably paying in advance) and have also booked camping places (presumably ditto) but the prizes are (I belive) sponsored or donated, so I don't get it.

What I do know is that my own financial risk, in booking the hotel months ago for 2 nights, hasn't paid off, and I can't get my dosh back. That's almost £800 between 8 of us who were going from here.

Nobody would have much difficulty today in telling the difference between me and a ray of happy sunshine.

:: Wednesday, June 27, 2012 ::

I've now had the Lexus back for a week, and despite trying several times, I haven't been able to speak to the man at Privilege who is supposedly dealing with my complaint. I was promised on Monday that he would call yesterday, but that didn't happen either. I was discussing this with Git Jnr last night, and he did a little bit of research and came up with a couple of nuggets.

I have had a couple of phone calls from the garage though - the first of them was really apologetic and for a minute I actually thought that I was speaking to somebody who knew what they were talking about. They said they would send a man out this morning to look at the car again.

Just before he arrives, the man from Privilege finally calls, with many assurances about their commitment to customer care etc. I point out that they said that before, but their engineer couldn't even be bothered to look at the car last time, like he promised he would. When he says that was an unfortunate one-off, I ask him about the FSA's fine of £2.17 Million in January, imposed on UK Insurance Ltd (the RBS holding company for Direct Line, Churchill and Privilege) for not only failing to deal with customer complaints, but for altering or removing papers from over half of the files they submitted to the FSA investigators, to hide their failings. I ask him if he thinks that the FSA might be interested to hear that they haven't learned from that previous punishment.

He seems to understand what I am talking about. At least now we're talking sense, not platitudes.

Then the man from the garage arrives. He's the same guy who was here the first time, and he seems to be sincerely apologetic. Rather worryingly though, he doesn't seem to know exactly what my complaint is. Well, he does now.

:: Thursday, June 28, 2012 ::

I've got the Cerbera booked in for a show at Corbridge for the Sporting Bears on Sunday, and it's still manky from its rainy run to Hexham a couple of weekends ago. So I spend the afternoon in the garage cleaning it up. I've also planned to take it in to Hexham on Monday to get the differential bushes done, seeing as it's only about 6 miles from Corbridge. I have booked a hotel for Sunday night.

So I clean up the bodywork, and re-stick the heatshield on the underside pf the bonnet. While I amd cleaning the passenger door, though, I notice that the trim up the side of the windscreen is detaching iteslf. I don't want it to fall off because if I lose it. I'll never find another one.

While I am doing all that, there are reports on the radio of flooding in central and northern England. Serious flooding, that has closed both the rail lines between England and Scotland. Now the field at Corbridge is right beside the river, so I suspect that the show might not be going ahead, but until I hear, I crack on.

:: Friday, June 29, 2012 ::

I go up to the boat chandler, and buy a wee tube of boat adhesive/sealer. He guarantees that it'll stick like a limpet and be waterproof too (provided I don't miss a bit). He does point out that it isn't "instant grab" though so I'll need to hold the bits together for a while till it starts to set - especially since it sticks on the back of the windscreen pillar as well, so it's weight ids pulling it off.

So, clean up the edge of the screen and the pillar with white spirit, then lay a bead of sealer right round the edges of the trim, and another bead down the edge of the screen. I stick trim back on, but after holding it in place for what seems like ages, it still comes loose when I let go. So I get my trusty long webbing strap and throw it across the screen, in the driver's door, through the centre console and back out the passenger door. Fit it together, put a bit of broken window fluting against the trim to spread the load, and ratchet it up - not too tight, just enought to pull it up against the illar. A few bits of duct tape to hold the ends down, and I leave it to set.

Just as I finish cleaning off the excess, I get an email. The show at Corbridge has been cancelled, which is a shame for the charity we were collecting for. It's also a shame that I get this notice 1 hour later than the time I could have cancelled the hotel and got my money back (where have I heard this before?) - so at least I still have the choice of whether to leave early for Hexham on MOnday morning, or go down on Sunday and stay over.

Then the garage phones about the Lexus. They say that the necessary parts are now in stock, so they can book the car in. I ask them what parts they mean, and it turns out there aren't any (I knew that). I tell them that once again, they aren't filling me with confidence that they actually know what they are doing. I tell them to leave it because I want the car inspected independently before they get their hands on it again. Useless pricks.