Fusion

To mark the longest day, and the arrival of visitor from the South, we had an evening* on Saturday. In preparation I set about reclaiming our lawn - which had become something of a wild meadow. It had grown so long because it had taken me a good too many weeks to track down a 50 ml bottle of two stroke oil (and found lots of 1 litre bottles - but that's just a waste).

It was with a little guilt that I went off a-strimming. Some months ago I had badgered L&C for a scythe that they'd promised in the foggy past. But somehow the mental effort of getting the strimmer going was considerably less than the mental effort of getting to grips with the scythe. C - who has a way of speaking such that his words burns permanent neurotic paths - said two things to me when handing over the sythe:

1. Make sure it's sharp - it's a lot easier to use when it's sharp.
2. I've no idea what you want the scythe for.

Indeed - what did I want the scythe for when I've got a strimmer? Was I on some weird no carbon masochist trip?

So there I was - feeling a little guilty strimming away. After a while the strimmer started to sound a bit funny. I stopped and took the head to bits and couldn't figure anything was wrong and put it back together again and continued. A few times. Eventually half the strimmer head went flying across the garden.

Aaaah.

So there was something wrong afterall.

I collected the bits together and discovered that most of the plastic elements had fused together - clearly everything had got way too hot. Mmmm. I tentatively opened up the body of the strimmer to find lots of metal filings - a sure sign that something isn't right. Like probably irrepairably knackered. Probably caused by trying to do too much work - cos the grass had grown too long - I knew I should have fixed on the brush cutter.

Another mechanical gizmo meets it's match. Ha! How dare it imagine it could continue to work in my hands!

*It might have read better if I'd written 'soiree'