Testing Times

   I promised in yesterday`s blog to give an account of my Driving test in my Morgan Plus Four. It was somewhat eventful as you will see.
  The first problem was that the Test was on a weekday, and my benevolent naval qualified driver was, of course, at work and not available to drive me to the Centre. What I did to get round this was to leave the canvas hood erected, together with the rather opaque side screens and drive carefully and furtively to the centre. Even though I still had the L plates displayed, a police officer would have had to peer in the low windscreen to see that there was no accompanying driver and luckily none did. Once arrived near the Test centre, I stripped the screens, hood and frames and stowed them away, vastly improving the visibility. Luckily the weather was dry!
  I went into the centre to sign in and emerged with my allocated tester, took the rudimentary sight test of reading a number-plate at 25 yards, and led the tester towards my vehicle. When we arrived at the Morgan, squatting at the kerb, the tester continued for a few paces before looking incredulously at the Mog. `Is THIS your car?` he asked. `If I had known I would have brought my coat` I apologised abjectly and we crammed ourselves inside. `Where is your qualified driver` he demanded. I explained he had to see a man about a dog, or some such story... `He should have waited` Again I apologised. Things were not going well.
   They did not improve, either. As we started off, I noticed, to my horror that the speedo had quit. The examiner noticed it too, of course, and my (true) comment that it had only just failed was somewhat sceptically viewed. The Test had started in disaster, and the only benefit was that, as I was convinced I could not possibly pass, I drove in a much more relaxed way , despite having a mouth so dry it felt like leather. As I have said, I had driven the Mog several thousand miles and was thoroughly at home in it. The Examiner may also have been impressed by my hand signals, In those far-off days, cars did not have to have indicators or trafficators and the Morgan was not so equipped.
  The driving went well and I easily answered the Highway Code questions as I was still used to absorbing and regurgitating quantities of info from my schooldays. Finally he checked his clipboard, hesitated and reluctantly said `Well, I think I`ll give you a pass.` I could have kissed the fellow! After he had walked off, leaving me to wait for my `Qualified driver` I tore off the ignoble L plates and stuffed them in a near-by hedge, before driving off in triumph `licenced to kill!` The speedo came back on line, typical, and I later found that the needle sometimes seemed to turn back too far and did not engage. I cured this by gluing a splinter of wood to the little stop... In those impoverished days garage repairs were not affordable!
  Bye for now, going to muse on the vehicles (wrecks) I have driven in my time....
 

Transport nostalgia

   It is a well-known side-effect of getting older that memories of long ago seem sharper than that of the recent past. I find that recollections of events and scenes of half a century ago are as real as they ever were. Wouldn`t it be marvellous if the brain could be made to display some of these scenes, it would be like a time machine or a gateway opening on the past....
   One of the things I recall as if it were yesterday is my first motor-car. I suppose everyone can visualise their first transport, especially if they have had to buy it themselves and not be given it by Daddy, as seems to happen nowadays. And my first car was memorable in itself, being a Morgan Plus Four in sky blue. Morgans have always been a race apart, the factory is still in production, one of the few genuinely British vehicle producers. The cars have, in fact, changed astonishingly little, remaining very similar to my 1952 Plus-Four LWK 813 (I can even recall its registration number) It was a two-seater sports car, a long, long bonnet behind a horseshoe shaped radiator reminiscent of a Bugatti, ending in a VERY low windscreen some 8 inches high  The front wheels stuck out in front of the bonnet and were covered by sweeping mudguards leading down to a running-board below the doors. Behind the low cockpit were TWO spare-wheels surrounded by a tapering bodywork. Unfortunately I don`t have a picture, people were less into photography at the time. The bodywork was of aluminium over an ash frame, Morgans are one of the only cars that can suffer from wood-rot or woodworm! The very light body was driven by a Standard Vanguard engine of 2088 cc`s an unusual capacity. That was not the only unusual feature! The gearbox, for example was situated in the cockpit under a leather-covered hump just in between the driver and passenger`s legs, which ensured a very positive gearchange!, as the short gearstick enters the gearbox direct.  It was driven by a short primary drive shaft from the engine, rather than being directly connected as are all other cars. The front suspension rather resembles a motor-cycles, being a sliding cylinder arrangement. As this requires frequent lubrication, Morgan have included a system where the driver is told to press on a button on the floor of the car next to the clutch. When this is done, the oil-pressure gauge drops a pound or two as a squirt of engine oil is administered to the suspension! Don`t do it too often, though, or the surplus streaks the front tyres.... The doors were topped by flexible perspex windows which could be, and usually were, removed as they were not as transparent as all that til I had them re-done. The hood was the usual canvas job over a tubular frame and took ages to erect, awkward in case of sudden rain. The car did have a heater, which made a whine similar to a supercharger but delivered little heat... All in all a most impractical,uncomfortable uneconomic and thoroughly glamorous machine, capable of some 110 miles per hour for those with nerves of steel. I loved it!
  There was, however, one slight snag after I had bought it;- I did not have a driving licence... I was in the process of taking driving lessons. However, I abandoned the course and determined to continue to learn in my own car. A more unsuitable vehicle for a learner driver would be difficult to imagine than a 2 litre sports car with low visibility. Luckily, I had a secret weapon. In my digs, also lived an intrepid naval lieutenant who liked nothing better at weekends than being taken on long tours in the Portsmouth area at someone else`s expense. So that is what we did. We covered several thousand miles during my apprenticeship, without any accidents, until I was ready to present myself for the dreaded Driving test at the Portsmouth centre. I will, however reserve an account of this eventful occasion for my next blog.

   Bye for now, until we meet again on Test day!

Health.. and Safety

  I have just come back from a visit to the Doctor; not, I hasten to reassure my faithful readers, because I am ill but rather because I`m not.  Let me explain.
  A couple of weeks ago when Kim was in England with Alyson, I began to feel a bit headachey in the mornings and also had a nagging pain in the lower ribs. Now, one of the side effects of Atenolol, which I take for high blood pressure is that I don`t get headaches, so this symptom seemed to me a sign that my blood pressure was creeping up. A while ago, we bought a spig or blood pressure measuring machine in case we wanted to monitor ourselves, and rather unwisely I tried this out with alarming results. Rather than worrying myself into an early grave, I visited our local Doctoress with my machine and demanded a comparative test plus a diagnosis on the rib pain. I dare not do this kind of thing when Kim is in residence as she worries even more than I do, a confirmed hypochondriac.
  Our Doc is a good sport and agreed to this bizarre suggestion. Her machine gave a more reassuring result and she said ours was reading a couple of points high. The pain was easily dismissed as a rib strain from heaving things about. A good result, still it might have been serious, even hypochondriacs get sick! In fact she said she would increase my blood pressure tablets slightly to bring the level back to normal, which has since done the trick. However, I did not escape scot-free as she said I had not had a blood test for a year and prescribed one, which was carried out last Tuesday.
  Today, a formidable report arrived through the post and after poring over it a while we decided to take it to the Doc`s for deciphering. She interpreted it, liver ok, heart ok, kidneys ok, pancreas ok,prostate within limits etc. nothing to worry about in total. She also re-took my blood-pressure which has returned to its usual excellent level. We were able to come back much reassured, and I am now hopefully certified to carry on in good health. The French system is a thorough one and reckons to catch problems early, when something can be done about them. Perhaps this is why the French have the longest life-expectancy in Europe!
  Bye for now, going to enjoy the sunshine.
 
 

Concatenations of events..

This has been an eventful couple of days among the feline side of the Ark`s passengers. Firstly, we are glad to announce the return of Lillou after an extended absence of nearly six months. Goodness knows where she goes, usually in Summer, but this time we had really given her up for lost. However, I was feeding the sheep in the dark early Sunday morning when I saw her sitting on a gatepost at the side of the field. She was fat and sassy as usual, showing no sign of any privations. I carried her back indoors where she spat at all the other animals, before settling down as if she had never left and appropriating my chair so I have to lift her up and put her on my knee each time I want to sit down. Definitely a happy surprise!

   Not so happy has been a sudden illness of our latest passenger, Storm. She had been less lively for a couple of days, sleeping nearly all the time and not raising Cain as is her wont. When she went off her food as well, we decided it was time to consult the vet. The Chef surgery was full on Monday morning, so we were redirected to Brioux, and saw Solene, who diagnosed a temperature and a bad worm infestation. After treatment, she seems to be improving slowly and we hope this will continue. Its a worry running an Ark!
  Bye for now, going to have some tea.

The way we were

I have just returned from a week in Plymouth, having gone over by ferry with the car to bring back Kim ( Mrs. Noah ) and her numerous purchases after an extended stay with our daughter Alyson. Now Plymouth is the city where I spent most of my formative years, from 11 to 18 as a teenager, and a more recent stay of 20 years or so before moving to France. You would say, then, that it is the most familiar and homely town that I know.... and yet I find now that I really don`t know it any more.  It`s not only that the streets and shops have changed in the 11 years we have been in France, but the living conditions have worsened to a surprising extent. Even the street plan has altered, with a new attempt to create a more rapid traffic flow into the town in the mornings and out in the evenings, a system unlikely to succeed, I feel. TRAFFIC, that is the one thing that renders the place unsuitable for civilised life, a huge, almost stationery double line of cars that means commuters will spend over three-quarters of an hour on a ten minute journey and no doubt waste several litres of fuel into the bargain. If there is one advantage in the move to France, it is the relative scarcety of traffic jams. I will admit they do exist, any journey near Paris will reassure you of that!  However, here in Deux Sevres, they are an endangered species, I am happy to say. Long may it so remain!

  Bye for now, off for a burn-up on the open road!

Hot water!

  For more years than I care to mention, we have had no running hot water in our kitchen sink. The large hot-water tank adjacent to our bathroom supplies as much very hot water that anyone could desire to our wash basin and shower in the bathroom. By the way, I am constantly amazed at the superiority of the French system of pressurising the tank with the cold water supply, which means your shower gives an abundant supply of very hot water if desired, rather than a trickle of warm water from the English system where the water is heated by a coil in the shower itself and has to be restricted if you want your shower hot.
    That was not to say that we washed our dishes in cold water!  No, a bowl was carried in from the bathroom and placed in the butler sink. From force of habit, this has seemed the norm, but Kim recently rebelled and demanded an improvement.
   One of the reasons for the old `system` was that our kitchen is some way from the bathroom and its water supply, so we felt to run a pipe through would waste water while we waited for the hot water to traverse the length of pipe. Kim saw in Castorama the above-pictured neat little water heater which seemed the answer to our problems. I did have some reservations but unhappily I did not voice them clearly enough and we ordered the machine. As it was listed in Castorama`s site as not available in Niort I ordered it on line from the Poitiers site.
   We had arranged for it to be installed by our neighbour Ian who is experienced in plumbing and subsequently to be connected to the electricity supply by Stewart who is an electrician, among his other skills. The plumbing work went well as can be seen but disaster struck when Stewart arrived to carry out the connection. The wretched appliance  was far too powerful to be connected to our house supply! It would have tripped the house fuse each time we used it. Stewart suggested it should be changed for the same model which drew a lesser supply.

The heater has vanished replaced by a temporary COLD tap

     I took the heater carefully off the wall cleaned it up and took it to Castorama Poitiers to change it. I had expected problems and was not disappointed!  Oh, no, said Castorama Poitiers we have nothing to do with Castorama Direct! it is a completely different organisation and you will have to deal with them direct to return the item. I also saw that they do not in fact stock the lower-powered version, probably because it wont heat the water sufficiently.
  I sent an Email to Castorama Direct who seemed curiously difficult to contact. They didn`t reply directly, but I did get an advert containing the small-print terms of supply limiting changing an order to two weeks and stipulating that the item should be in its original packing etc. It seems obvious that I stand no chance of recuperating my money.
  We decided to accept the possible waste of water (it can always be used for plant watering) and run a pipe from the hotwater tank, which Ian did very competently yesterday. Here is the completed result.
  I have learned a few lessons from this saga. First, research your projects thoroughly and dont rely on publicity.  Second, don`t expect to get any cooperation from retailers once you have parted with your money. And finally, do NOT take any notice of Castorama`s publicity that they are amateur-friendly, they are not. They could have warned me of the power problem. It`s not Castorama, c`est castoche, more a case of Castorama c`est moche!
  And by the way, if anybody has a house with a supply of more than 25 amps and wants a sink or washbasin water heater, as new, let me know....
  Bye for now, going to do the washing-up!