Three Wheels on my Wagon

We spend much of Tuesday back up the old haunts of Faversham and about. We drive up after breakfast in Hastings to the boat yard to collect the 2CV and then to drive that across to Llew's workshop just east of Canterbury. Dad's mission is to do the rust-proof thang on the remaining three wheels (2 rears and the 2nd spare) - that is to scrape, chisel, wire-brush and hammer-peen the inner face of the rims (normally out of sight) clear of rust, then coat them with a quick drying gloopy layer of zinc chromate primer, and finally a hard glossy layer of "axle-black". The theory is that they will then last a good few more years and this is the final bit of titivating the car into its best possible state for the Irish adventure and its Irish life. Touch lots of wood and not wishing to, in any way, tempt fate, but it is sounding quite sweet at present in our humble opinion.

We dogs love it at Llew's. His 'workshop' is actually some huge abandoned greenhouses once used for commercial horticulture and now cleared and full of cars and car bits. Earth-floored under the glass, they are as dry as dust and the dust has long since started to pick up car-based grot such as he rust and dust from power tools, dripped oil and solvents as well as the leavings of passing chickens, rabbits and other beasties. the stacks of car bits and well-loaded shelving and racks make superb nooks and crannies for a dog to explore looking for interesting smells, and there are acres of this stuff.

So, while Haggis might mooch about and mainly sleep, I am everywhere, in, under, between, through, over, behind and beside. Llew's own dogs, the tea-drinking Rosie and the mad Westie pup (almost a year old now) who has become know as Boris the B*****d by Llew, who cannot stop him from barking and taking on bigger dogs, tend to be kept tied up on looooong strings which is OK till they wrap themselves round the aforementioned junk, trailer wheels, cars etc. So when I'm in range, Boris helps with the searching, but mainly I am way off at the far end of a greenhouse or under the hedge where his rope won't reach. Rosie, like Haggis, sleeps through most of this.

Unfortunately, I tend to emerge covered in the dark dust and in need of a shower so, wouldn't you know it, I am pristine, white and fluffy today having been shampooed again. Mum will be impressed when we next meet (unless I can think of another way of getting back to filthy). The wheels done, we return the car to it's parking and hop in the 'modern car' to head back to Pud Lady's place.

Today was mainly about Dad doing the Hort Soc accounts. He is Treasurer just till the end of this financial year, and can then hand the baton on to 'Alf' the new guy. So he must crunch the numbers for 2010/11 and pass these in to the auditor for checking, before presenting them at the AGM in December, his parting visit to the Society and swan-song. He's been doing it for 11 years now, so has probably done his share. He will be pleased to hand it over at last.

In between that, when the figures were starting to fry Dad's brain, we went for a walk across Hastings's West Hill hoping for a look in the Castle. The Castle though, is now pay-to-get-in and also No Dogs Allowed, so we satisfied ourselves with a gawp from outside and took these couple of pictures, one of the Old Town with its net huts, beached fishing fleet and touristy bits from above and the other a chunk of castle entrance.

Supper time now.

Deefs

Dad's old room

What a day! We're up fresh and early and whizzed off to the frozen Rec to let off steam, running around in the frozen grass. Unfortunately I lose yet another favourite "toy", a fairly dense sponge rubber ball which I have loved to death - chewed all the outer colour off it so that it is mainly white, which means it gets lost in the frost.

But we're off to Hastings to the Pud Lady. Stamp Man is still in hospital and the Occupational Therapy types have got all involved, so now when he comes home it has to be to a hospital-style bed, not to Pud-Lady's saggy mattress, dark carved oak angels too-tall-for-a-westie-to-jump-up-on ancient one. So it has been decreed that Dad's old room will be cleared of the build up of 25 years of boxes of second hand books, cleaned and completely redecorated.

Walls and floors that have not seen the light of day since before Meggie was born will be swept, de-cobwebbed, sugar-soaped, scraped, sanded and painted to within an inch of their lives. We are all loaded into the 2CV and high tailing it to help. Dad's other brother and his good lady, the family that "don't do dogs" will be there (we mentioned them a couple of blogs ago, I recall) and so will T-fer. Pud Lady (on the instructions of Mum) will be forcibly restrained, sat in an easy chair and fed sherry, and denied all chance to lift a finger.

Even lunch will be bought-in salads and stuff (plus Pizza and quiche at the request of Pud-Lady, who is rather mischievously varying her diet away from things that Stamp-Man would like in his absence at Hospital. Go Pud-Lady! You Rebel, you!

We are excluded from the room at some stages (something about gloss paint on skirting boards) but that's OK. We entertain Pud-Lady and enjoy chasing round the mature wooded garden. Dad spoils the fun a bit by telling everyone not to feed us when we scrounge. Spoilsport!

All done by 3.30 pm, and it's still a lovely sunny day, so Dad rolls the 2CV roof back and we cruise home again. I spend some of the trip standing up on the back seat. leaning heavily on Dad's shoulder, with my nose raised into the airflow coming across the top of the car. Lots of sheep to look at across Romney Marsh, but as yet they are all fat fat Ewes - not a lamb to be seen yet!

Have a good weekend
Deefski.