After a few essential errands we headed back to the car, pausing at the market to buy extra vegetables after locating the long lost soup recipe a couple of days ago.
The afternoon saw me nip in to Bromsgrove to purchase a new Dremel, as I have killed mine polishing the engine cases of the Enfield. TP and I then took a wander around the Three Miler with the dogs and, at no point, did we see either Gypsies or any dead horses. This might seem a little random but the reason for this statement will become apparent later. After not seeing any dead horses TP and I headed home and, to be honest, I didn't do a huge amount for the rest of the day.
I did remember to put my new front wheel bearings in the freezer in the garage as I planned to fit them in the Enfield's front wheel hub on Sunday … those in the know advise that they are far easier to knock in if they are chilled and the hub is warmed.
Late in the afternoon were joined by Stevie and the Elf for an early supper. 30% had foolishly agreed to attend a Carol Concert performed by the choir in which her mum sings. She kindly advised that I didn't need to go if I didn't want to … This was a result, as a group of pensioners singing festive and religious songs was never going to have me champing at the bit to attend. To make life easier for everyone I even came up with some semi-plausible bullshit to justify my absence … apparently I needed to stay home with the dogs as their routine had been sufficiently disturbed already after TP's party.* It was obviously Stevie was in no mood for carols either as he asked me if I needed a hand to look after the dogs.
30% eventually rolled in from the Carol Concert at about half past ten and it was apparent that I had had the better evening. The concert was the typical cliche'd church choir "do" right down to the tea being served in the lined, green, Wood's Ware Beryl teacups.
Saturday rolled in to Sunday and one advantage of Whiffler sleeping on the floor in the bedroom is that he no longer wakes me as early as he used to. I actually managed to remain in my pit until after the clocks had struck seven.
My morning started with a couple of minor DIY jobs before I headed back in to the kitchen and put a batch of vegetable soup in the slow cooker. I then headed out in to the garage and, after a little tidying, made a start on fitting the wheel bearings in my new front wheel hub. The job went incredibly easily and by eleven I was back in the kitchen drinking coffee.
We lunched early and then 30% and I headed out around the Three Miler with the dogs. As we headed back in to the village we noticed that there had been some fly tipping in the gateway to one of the fields. For some reason I wandered closer to view the pile of rubbish and only then did I notice something peculiar poking out from under the heap … it was a horse's muzzle. It didn't take the deductive powers of Sherlock Holmes to come up with the theory that one of the local Gypsy groups must have decided that a piss poor attempt to hide the corpse was far easier than paying hard cash to have the poor thing taken by a Fallen Stock Handler … tight fuckers!
Once back at home I headed back out to the garage and rapidly got bored with polishing aluminium engine cases. I therefore decided to degrease the Enfield's engine plates and start to remove the paint and corrosion as they need to be repainted before I can mount the engine back in the frame.
It was dark by the time I returned to the house and, after cleaning up, I seasoned and liquidised my batch of soup. I then pottered and irritated 30% as she prepared a superb roast leg of lamb for Sunday dinner.
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* There is a modicum of truth in this nonsense as Whiffler was not a happy boy after TP's party and was not going to settle in his crate … it now appears that his new sleeping place is on the floor on 30%'s side of the bed!
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