:: Diary - March 2015 ::

:: Sunday, March 1, 2015 ::

Yes, I’ve been quiet lately. There are two reasons for this: first, work has been mentally busy with a couple of big jobs at the same time plus a few smaller ones; and second, my shoulder is killing me. It started to hurt a bit in November, and has been getting worse, until these last few weeks I can hardly move. I’ve had an x-ray and am waiting for results.

In the meantime, I’m not taking the TVR to the meeting today. It’s forecast heavy rain anyway. And the wheels have corroded badly and I think I’ll be struggling to polish them back.

So we all meet up at Dave’s and pile into his car for the trip through.

As we get near the castle, we are diverted because the road is closed due to flooding. After a wee detour, and fighting to stop Dave from cutting through every farm and wee track, and stick to the diversion route, we arrive at the venue.

The first conversation is with a chap who is planning to take his TVR racing. He has paid a TVR specialist to fit tow loops and various other racing accessories, and then he tells us that he took it in to the same garage to adjust the idle speed. Now, I would have thought that if you’re intent on going racing on a track precisely in the middle of nowhere, you might want to know how to fix it yourself. I keep this thought to myself. Dave doesn’t.

While we are waiting to order our food, the barman explains that they are short staffed because the road is flooded. I look around at what, I think, is the best attendance for months, and wonder how all these customers got here by following a signed diversion route, but the staff can’t. It’s a mystery.

So with the food ordered, we head through to the dining room, where today’s live entertainment is just setting up. Yes you read it right, live entertainment. and not the kind that involves taking the piss out of anybody. I didn’t catch the name of this duo, but basically, it’s Cami’s girlfriend and a saxophone player. They are pretty good, although a bit loud, and drown out the staff (singular) hollering people’s names as he balances plates between the kitchen and the tables.

While we are waiting, Dave and I happen to notice, quite by coincidence, that all the windows have been nailed shut.

Hugh turns up a bit late, and comes into the room twice, having obviously thought the first time, that he had gatecrashed somebody’s wedding.

All of this reminds me of an idea we had months ago, to have themed TVR meetings - like a cowboy / country ’n’ western day (like today). You could have themed food as well - if I only I knew what the feck cowboys eat. Beans, probably. You could also have a pirate day (T-V-aaaarrrrrrr) or a Disney day (Gawrsh). At least that would fit into the Mickey Mouse organisation of the hotel.

I was the first at my table to order. I am the last to receive my dinner. I can only suppose that the staff have these pages read out to them.

At this point, I usually summarise the chat topics for the day. Well, they include salmon, hydro and nuclear power stations, car depreciation, 1996 TVR prices, chassis corrosion, car racing, wee dogs, and Cami, who is sitting like a lovestruck groupie at a Bay City Rollers concert. Except he’s 3 times their age.

It’s too much to take in a single day.

:: Saturday, March 14, 2015 ::

Here’s a funny thing. See my sore shoulder? Well I was diving to a meeting on Tuesday, and as usual, it was hurting like hell - so I was looking around the car for something to put on the armrest, so that I could rest my elbow without bending sideways. Then I thought - just put the seat down a bit. When I did, it was a lot better, with the weight off my shoulder. Then I realised - hang on, I got the car serviced in November. It started hurting in November. When I got the car back, the seat was all out of adjustment (why do garages all seem to employ short-arsed gibbons as drivers?). They also manage to lose the automatic seat position settings every time they get it. Third world problems, I know…

Anyway by the time I get to my meeting my shoulder’s not too bad. By the time I get home, it’s even better. Have I put up with this for 3 months just because my car seat is in the wrong place?

The answer seems to be “maybe” because by today, it’s a bit better again (although it varies), but I decide to have a go at polishing the TVR’s wheels.

The last time I used it was to got to the club meeting in January. It got wet.

So the wheels are in a helluva state. Nothing else for it - get out the elbow grease!

Here’s a close-up of a different wheel off the car, after I have given it a wash. Better, but still bogging.

It takes me 2 hours per wheel - first sand the rim with different grades of wet and dry paper, then polish it. The face of the wheel doesn’t need quite as much work - but still a wee light sanding then a polish.

By tea-time I have done 3 wheels, and while I am sanding the third one, I wonder where the orange rusty blobs are coming from. Then I realise that my fingers are bleeding because I have sanded two fingertips off, just holding the paper. Ive got no fingerprints, so if you need anything nicked, I’m your man!

Blood, sweat and tears, right enough…

One wheel to do tomorrow!

:: Thursday, March 26, 2015 ::

I am supposed to be presenting a cheque from the Sporting Bears to a school in Carlisle today, and I was assured that the Porsche would be ready in time.

Why do I listen to people? Naturally, it’s not ready.

Cal me clairvoyant, but in anticipation of this news, I cleaned up the TVR over the course of the last 3 days. The weather was nice, I got the car outside, gave it a proper clean, cleaned all the widows etc, so it’s looking good.

So naturally, this morning, when it’s time to set off, it’s pishing rain. And foggy. Marvellous.

But I set off anyway, across the country in search of the Motorway. Between snow-covered fields I go, pondering on the fickle finger of fate that points to crap weather every time I get in a convertible.

I have arranged to meet up with Hamish for most of the journey, so we join up on the M74 and head off down the motorway. The rain isn’t too bad, but it’s intermittent, so the roof stays on. This, combined with about a 100 miles f motorway driving, gives me the chance to notice that the trim on the inside of the roof panels is falling to bits. I need to fix that.

We arrive at the school and meet up with another 2 cars, a 1954 (I think) MGA, and a Saab 900 convertible.

The kids love the cars, we present the cheque, and at 2 pm, I get a call telling me that the Porsche is ready. I’m going away for the weekend so can’t collect it until Tuesday now… All too soon, it’s time for the journey home.

At least the weather is a bit better, so I can drive home with the roof off! On the way, I notice that the fake wood trim on the glove box is loose - it’s held on with 2 bolts, and one of them has pulled off the back of the panel. I need to fix that too!

When I get back, I take the TVR along to the farm, so that the garage at the house is empty, in case I do get a chance to collect the Porsche.

It’s been freezing. It’s been noisy. It’s been windy. It’s been brilliant!