TALES FROM THE SHED
Every day is a new adventure in Matchlessland. Most days, Postie rolls up with little bags filled with goodies. Some of them are the right bits and some of them fit. Whether they work is of course a minor mystery at this stage. I truly do miss the glory days of autojumbles everywhere, when I could make a little list, slide it into my wallet so I wouldn’t forget what I was looking for, then drop it and lose it somehow the first time I bought anything — usually a cup of coffee.
And then the other day a great big cardboard box landed. It was truly and impressively light. But big. Had I ordered some fresh air for the tyres? Note to self: separate refreshing beer infusion from ordering parts online.
But no. The big box contained a carefully packed and rolled up newspaper. Plainly my online ordering has reached new and impressive levels of obscurity. There was a note attached to the newspaper. I shall print it somewhere nearby. All was explained. I felt even less foolish than I usually do, and unwrapped a handsome pair of primary chaincase gaskets. Oh joy and bliss. No sensible person can understand how much happiness a few bits of paper can unleash.
Time to feel smug. As I recounted last time, I’d managed to extract the 1966 Wipac alternator stator’s wires from the mysterious tube which carries them from the chaincase to the cruel world outside, so plainly had no need to
