I have had a busy but on the whole completely unproductive afternoon. The kitchen back door lock had been sticking with its tang extruded slightly, thus causing the door to be a complete bugger to open, or shut, for some time now. In a more than usually exasperated moment I struck it sharply with the wooden handle of the trowel, and this so offended its finer sensibilities that it jammed completely, thus making it impossible to close the door at all.
I have now unscrewed every screw involved, all ten plus two plus two crosshead ones of various sizes making a total of fourteen, and one obstinate flathead one, and have a dismantled lock which now refuses to move in any direction at all.
Since close of play for locksmiths round here seems to be five oâclock and after hours charges extortionate, we have now got a respite until tomorrow. And a door which is just going to have to have the rubbish-bin put against it to hold it shut overnight.
I had an sudden longing for fried potatoes wiv salt.
I melted a little butter in the pan, went to the cupboard to get the oil out & an mini avalanche of kitchen implements plus a bottle of Sunflower oil leapt out.
Sigh
Thank The Deity of Choice that I had the sense to decant the oil from the flimsy plastic bottle it arrived in, to an old Martini bottle.
The bit that is moved into and out of the door-frame when you turn the key in the lock. I couldnât think of another name for it, since the entire mechanism is called the lock so that was already in use.
In other news, a nice man came to us from a locksmith down the road and in the course of a little over an hour
replaced the broken back door lock in its entirety, providing no less than five keys for the new lock
mended the side door which had ceased to close at all because the frame had sagged a little (it now closes at pressure from one finger, and opens soundlessly and eagerly)
fixed the door between annexe and main room so that the lock engages again and the door can be shut to keep any equinoctial gales from ramping in through the cat-flap and thence the entire house, bursting open the door into the bathroom and admitting a freezing blast to any naked body that might be in the bath or shower at the time.
I regard this as a good afternoonâs work, even though I personally did nothing except stay at home to let him in.
That was a very pleasant day indeed. Sunshine, a drive to the seaside, a walk along the shore admiring both the seabirds and the colourful beach huts, and lunch in a beautiful pub garden: Brancaster crab thermidor, Norfolk samphire and lemon fries, washed down with a pint of Wherry. Then home and a nap.
