Isolated Blurt Thread

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Any Port?

Yesterday my older Volvo decided to blow out the plug on the side of the radiator - again!

It took me a week last time to find a suitable size replacement - the stopper from a bottle of vintage port.

Now I need to try again. Do I drink a whole bottle of Port? Or try to find something cheaper?

Whatever I use will be solidly glued in with two-pack filler.

But if I drink the Port I'll be in no fit state to do the repair...:eek:
 
So, according to you, people aren't suppose to recover from this sort of thing? That's comforting to know now after the facts are all in saying nope - yer wrong again. Should've told me that a few months ago.:rolleyes:
 
Yesterday my older Volvo decided to blow out the plug on the side of the radiator - again!

It took me a week last time to find a suitable size replacement - the stopper from a bottle of vintage port.

Now I need to try again. Do I drink a whole bottle of Port? Or try to find something cheaper?

Whatever I use will be solidly glued in with two-pack filler.

But if I drink the Port I'll be in no fit state to do the repair...:eek:

Volvo spares drying up, Ogg ?
Drink the Port and be damned ! :)
 
Hurah! I'm working FT again finally.

Not the job I actually hoped for, but I'll take it. Working on the other prospects and still more tests to do to return to my last employer (they're being great about it so far).
 
Volvo spares drying up, Ogg ?
Drink the Port and be damned ! :)

The plug is part of a plastic tank at the side of the radiator core. Taking out the radiator to fit a new tank and sealing it properly is probably beyond my current capabilities. It would be easier to buy a complete secondhand radiator.

But - so far the port stopper and Araldite seems to have worked. Hic!
 
The plug is part of a plastic tank at the side of the radiator core. Taking out the radiator to fit a new tank and sealing it properly is probably beyond my current capabilities. It would be easier to buy a complete second-hand radiator.

But - so far the port stopper and Araldite seems to have worked. Hic!

Excellent news, Ogg.

Imagine, people that you are in some sort of hurdle race; you are seriously close to the tape and something erects another hurdle [in my current case, it's a 'vital' file for Windoze 7; the machine was working earlier today).]
Gnash, Growl, etc.. :(
 
I'd like to repost something I wrote on a blog a year or so ago.

The Clamdigger

I wish I were a painter. I have a picture I want to paint. A vivid image in my mind that I long to share.

I wrote recently about my mother, and all the things she did to provide for our little family when I was growing up. It brought back a strong childhood memory.

I was 7 or 8. My mother was making some extra money digging clams. The thing about digging clams is that your schedule is set by the tides. If low tide is in the middle of the night, that's when you go to work on the clam flats.

My mother woke up my brother and I one night. I don't know what time it was , but it was a cold starry night. She bundled us, still in our pajamas, into our coats and hats. With sleep still in our eyes, we carried our blankets and pillows out to the car. We had an old station wagon, and we made beds in the back. I drifted off to sleep while we drove. When we got to the shore, she woke us again and told us to stay in the car, that she would be back in a while, and I went back to sleep.

I woke up some time later. My brother was still fast asleep. I had to pee, so as quietly as I could, I climbed out of the car and shut the door. The sky was beginning to lighten.

I shivered a little in my pajamas and coat, nothing on my feet but my slippers. There were some low bushes nearby, where I squatted and relieved myself. When I finished, I wandered around a little. We were parked just off the side of the road, just above a short rocky drop to the beach. I carefully climbed down, hoping to find a sand dollar or a glittery piece of sea glass on the muddy flat.

After a few minutes I decided it was too cold, and climbed back up to the road. When I reached the top, I turned and saw that sight I wish so much I could share.

The sun had broken the horizon and a band of rose colored light stretched across the bottom of the sky. Silhouetted in the light, a figure was walking slowly towards me. I watched my mother, waders to her hips, trudging back from the flats, a bucket filled with clams in one hand, her hoe and headlamp in the other. Her shoulders were slumped with fatigue, but her long hair rippled like ribbons in the wind.

Maybe the image has grown more beautiful,more magical in my memory over the years. I don't think it has, but I am alright if that's the case, because it's the way I will always see her.

I wish I could paint, so others could see it too.
 
Well, there went the weekend without a single bit of writing or editing, since Thursday actually. Sigh. Can't seem to settle down to read either.
 
Was a weekend.
Did member to talk to Mom for happy-birthing-me-and-suffering-through-16-years-of-trying-to-help-me-pretend-to-be-a-people-day :D She laughed and giggled and cried some.
Gots to get back to GA soon - is gots family and isn't gots snow.
Made a tumblr account for Baby: A-Faerie-In-Da-Skys (A Faerie in Disguise) - she giggled a lot and promised not to ever write on it unless she does. Writing to it probly won't do nothing - I just made teh account and didn't even set a home page. She's happy.
 
I can believe things that are true and things that aren't true and I can believe things where nobody knows if they're true or not.

I can believe in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny and the Beatles and Marilyn Monroe and Elvis and Mister Ed. Listen - I believe that people are perfectable, that knowledge is infinite, that the world is run by secret banking cartels and is visited by aliens on a regular basis, nice ones that look like wrinkled lemurs and bad ones who mutilate cattle and want our water and our women.
 
I believe that the future sucks and I believe that the future rocks and I believe that one day White Buffalo Woman is going to come back and kick everyone's ass. I believe that all men are just overgrown boys with deep problems communicating and that the decline in good sex in America is coincident with the decline in drive-in movie theaters from state to state.
 
I believe that all politicians are unprincipled crooks and I still believe that they are better than the alternative. I believe that California is going to sink into the sea when the big one comes, while Florida is going to dissolve into madness and alligators and toxic waste.
 
I believe that antibacterial soap is destroying our resistance to dirt and disease so that one day we'll all be wiped out by the common cold like martians in War of the Worlds.
 
I believe that the greatest poets of the last century were Edith Sitwell and Don Marquis, that jade is dried dragon sperm, and that thousands of years ago in a former life I was a one-armed Siberian shaman.
 
I believe that mankind's destiny lies in the stars. I believe that candy really did taste better when I was a kid, that it's aerodynamically impossible for a bumble bee to fly, that light is a wave and a particle, that there's a cat in a box somewhere who's alive and dead at the same time (although if they don't ever open the box to feed it it'll eventually just be two different kinds of dead), and that there are stars in the universe billions of years older than the universe itself.
 
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