It’s always about the right tool for the right job, and these days there’s a tool for virtually anything if you can afford it.
Yesterday we were in a Bricolage and Jeremy picked up a hacksaw and three blades. “I’m not gonna sit there and cut my fingers off,” I objected. It’s awkward at the cave entrance with rubble and some bits that might just be asbestos. I did’t want to sit on a pile of rubble trying to see through a chain. I got a metal cutting blade and sized up the battery powered angle grinder. It’s the sort of thing that always comes in handy, but in the end I thought better of it. For such a useful tool, I would rather it had UK sockets. Also it isn’t the top of my priorities as life is currently pointing elsewhere in terms of turning tools into money. Then the guy suggested a €20 set of Stanley bolt cutters. I knew it would be a lot less effort so encouraged the purchase.
Last night Jeremy and I slept on the same bed. Airbnb miscalculation by Rupert who thought one of us could go on the sofa. We both make weird gurgling snores. Better than dad who was chopping down trees, but it’s a wakesome habit. I was feeling pretty tired as we arrived back at the caves, despite a diversion via the Mairie for Jeremy to lodge some strong words about the rubble and a cafe creme at the bakery.
Position was awkward but I still got through the chain in less than 2 minutes. No wonder all the dodgy geezers in London have shelled out for one. A pair of them and most bike locks will be gone in thirty seconds, leaving you with a means of escape. I’ve had enough bikes nicked in this city that now I’m jaded. There was a period when I rode everywhere. It would certainly help with my “get fit for summer” drive. But the lock costs more than the bike and it still won’t last long against a good grinder with the right blade.
A quick trip to the supermarket to load up on grub. I bought a reblochon which will be expired before I get back from Japan. The brothers three drove long hours through the wilds of France, back at last to the familiarity if home. I dropped in on my downstairs neighbour and probably made more sense with my hacked together French than usual. I gave her the cheese.
Now I’m trying to turn everything around in time for the flight. I’ve scheduled a few days down after I land the other side so I’m not freaking out. But it’d be nice to bring the right things in my pack.
First though, I’m having a bath.
AlBarclay 