Sunday, 10 June 2018

Victoria under Pressure

There will be a chapter or two in some Psychiatric Manual that describes the condition that I have shown at just about every stage in my life.

I am not unduly concerned by it nor should I constitute a threat to the general public nor a danger to myself by doing it with such persistence.

It is the tendency to overuse something just for the sake of it.

I am sure that I can give a better explanation than that so here goes.

In my earliest developmental years I was encouraged to draw and paint using pencils, felt tip pens, poster paints and progressing through to enamels- you know those small tins that could be bought from the local Woolworths or Model Shop by which to give authenticity to Airfix kits of planes, tanks, ships and 1;32nd scale toy soldiers.

Under the influence of compulsive tendencies I would paint not just the model being assembled at the time but in a systematic process all of my toys and possessions. In this way I had an unrivalled collection of green and brown camouflage patterned everything.

By my early teenage years and after taking the usual route through cubs, cub scouts and ventures I was pretty deft at using a penknife to carve and whittle bits of wood. Unfortunately this craftmanship, albeit crude, was extended to bits of home furnishings, council fences, telegraph poles and bus shelters.

With the arrival of my first grown up tool kit I went through a phase of taking things apart but struggled to re-assemble them to their former fully operational status. This included a valve radio, my bicycle, an old black and white television, door locks and domestic furniture. This reached a bit of a crisis point when, having been entrusted by my Father to change a wheel on the family car I omitted to tighten up the bolts which was only prevented from being calamitous by an early erratic wobbling when out on the open road which alerted us to the fact that something was drastically wrong.

As an adult and homeowner I adopted the twin marvels of WD40 and No More Nails as the solutions to every bit of maintenance and DIY.

They were ideal as they were, in my mind, skill-free ways, in the case of WD40 to fix squeaks, expel rust, exclude moisture and restart mechanical things that had otherwise given the impression that they had expired. As for No More Nails I used it to grip and secure pictures, wood joints, ceramic tiles, shelving, repair all manner or broken items- many in fact being things not at all mentioned on the tube in the manufacturers recommended applications.

Inevitably this reliance on oily liquids and gloopy substances was a recipe for failure- and some of it was quite startling and spectacular.

You would think, wouldn't you, that I would learn from my mistakes ..........but no.

In fact, a new arrival into the household of a Karcher Pressure Washer has encouraged my character flaw to re-emerge and with a bit of a vengeance.

It is a useful piece of kit and I have in no time power blasted the block paving at the back of the house, cleaned the Scottish Pebbles and imitation stone circle on the frontage, removed moss and lichen from the porch roof, lower courses of brick on the front of the house and boundary fence and accidentally stripped a lot of paintwork off the timber outer door.

In addition I have used it to wash the car (being careful to use the low pressure hose option), water the bedding plants, scare off a large Tom Cat, scour all accessible surfaces on the up and over garage door and remove accumulated mud from the last use of the mountain bikes.

I am currently restricted in my pressure washing ambitions by the length of the hosepipe attached to the tap in the garage and the power cable even with a reel-type extension lead.

My obsession with over-use could get me into a lot of bother as I have now become fixated on a perfect project for the bright yellow Karcher.

In the public park which is overlooked by my house there is a wonderful marble statue of Queen Victoria.

It was commissioned by a wealthy citizen to commemorate the visit of Her Majesty in October 1854 and is a very youthful depiction of her at the age she was then of 35.

The marble is reputed to be from the same quarry source as that used by Michelangelo for his remarkable statue, David and so is of exceptional quality and lustre.

However, the ravages of time, a northerly orientation to encourage moss and lichen and the occasional wear and tear from those intent on placing a traffic cone on her head have taken their toll and as you can see by this photo taken just today Viccy is well below a Royal standard of presentation.



I have calculated that , in order to assuage my unfortunate obsessive character trait, if I linked together five extension cable reels and connect them to the electric socket in my hallway as well as cobbling together the equivalent length in domestic hosepipe then these could, under cover of darkness, be run through the cultivated road verge, across the carriageway, amongst the undergrowth, shrubbery and then the ornamental rose garden around the plinth of Queen Victoria's statue I would be able to give her a good concentrated dowsing using branded cleaning fluid in order to loosen the accumulated dirt and grime and then a power rinse to bring out the grain and sheen of that Italian marble from Carrara in the Apuan Alps - see below.



I can only dream, I am not that daft. This is an archived photograph of a bright and shiny Victoria.

I do think, however, that she would be amused by the prospect of a subversive, after dark wash and spruce up.






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