Sometimes I need to promise myself a reward at the end of long-haul drudgery — an ‘If you get through this, you can do that’ kind of thing.
That was how I dealt with the daunting task of rabbit proofing our biggest garden, our two chook runs, and the berry patch: “Once you get round them, Muggins, you can indulge yourself.”
Then there are the excuses that crop up while you’re drudging — tasks that just have to take precedence. For example, I’d presented my favourite girl with a sports car after mildly refurbishing it a few months back, but her brother broke the steering column. It seemed important to repair it, given that she was coming up to 16 — months, that is.
Dodgy parts
Toys of this sort puzzle me; much of them will be very right, but there will be a component or two that is seriously under par and that often kills the whole toy. This car has a quite clever monocoque metal body, a reasonable bottom end to the steering, but, oh, the top end: a flimsy, plastic steering wheel (irrevocably broken as I
