Sunday, 17 February 2019

A day or so away...

As the Sun comes up, early morn, over a mirror still, mist shrouded Deben estuary, one has to wonder just how many less than attractive, dark blonde, pony-tailed, thirty something, fat-arsed females can be mustered to action in a small Suffolk town better known for its boutiques and coffee shops.  Hordes of these almost clonelike, sometimes reluctant looking, sometimes just plain knackered looking victims of fitness fashion came by at around 7 in the morning. Bright, but chilly was the day.  They, almost all in tip to toe black relieved by trendy shades of grey on the leggings, hauled over lumpy shapes were universally unsmiling. Some with heads back so far they must at some point bump in to things. Arms studiously cranked into their sides.  But some appeared to have legs which had no need of knees, so stiff were the strides.  Some must have watched old films with matrons yelling "high knees rising" as they dashed along like dressage horses on acid.  All of them, sporty-looking, reluctant-looking or just plain bloody laughable were, it seems, engaged in laps of some unknown circuit of pain and discomfort.  Maybe they go out so early, so that can still get out to Sainsburys in their BMW Bird Boxes later, while their spawn are at dance/Judo/horsey/Rugby lessons.  Maybe their (obviously forlorn) hope is that they will improve their appearance to keep hubby away from secretaries.  No chance.  Does that backside come with running or is it the main reason FOR the running?  They all have one.  Large and lardy, it really should be hidden from view, not squeezed into unflatteringly tight black (why, always, damnable black?) gym clobber.  Oddly they will also then be seen with David Beckham-style gold trainers or whatever the latest term for their footwear is.  I notice ancient cyclists wear shoes so odd they appear to be plaster casts of someone else's feet!

In Tesco's, where there is, horror of horrors, a gym, a 24 hour gym (can it get any worse?), while decent folk shop, a steady stream of fat, ugly, sweaty women clutching a bottle of water in one hand and mobile 'phone in the other, slop through the shop, leaving a foul mistral of unnecessary effort in their wake as they don't shower till they get home, so their Bird boxes must be rank by now.  Why, if you are that podgy and that well, just simply ugly are you wasting money joining a gym?  Nobody's looking, love. Get showered, get changed and get out so that ordinary unshowy folks can fill the pantry. Unnoticed, not in anyone's way and not, above all, waving some slab of envy around with a selfy of their fat backsides installed as the latest wallpaper.  How I wish some jester would have injected their precious water bottle with a powerful laxative or nemetic, just to teach them a lesson.  Something to smear on the leather seats of their Beemer Bird Box, efficiently spread about by two large cheeks of flesh, barely constricted by acres of Lycra.
If you want to shop, woman, SHOWER in the gym first!  Don't push your way between nice folks with your Klevafone waving before you. NOBODY WANTS TO KNOW!!!

Friday, 8 February 2019

Or, alternatively...

You could make it in brass!
A while back, I made the 1/6th scale master pattern for the Vincent Black Shadow.  I decided because of its "sculpted nature I would make the engine cases in Ureol, a plastic modelling board now beloved of pattern makers. As it's plastic of a sort, it would need to be put in low temperature silicon moulds with no pressure.
What I eventually got back from Griffin Moulds in Birmingham was a bag of Ureol dust with some bits of brass and photo-etching.  No e-mail, no apologetic phone call, no letter of explanation.  Instead they actually sent me an invoice!!!  I told them, naturally, to go to Hell. Whether the client paid them I don't know.  But I have had to remake the model.  And in brass, so there is no crap about which moulds to use.  All I asked for was that they used a deeper than usual silicon mould for the Ureol parts. This they clearly never did, but just stupidly banged the plastic into a high temperature, high pressure, vulcanising black rubber mould.  And never found the guts to admit it.  They instead got their female apologist to contact me for money. 
Now I am very anti violence to women, but if a woman agrees to do a man's job, I'll treat them as a man, so don't get all defensive on me love. If your stupid company fuck up and you defend them, I will treat you as a stupid man.  I've heard nothing since!

It turns out that with little exception I could approach the model in brass, as essentially plates and wrappers with some detailing parts.
And so, 15 hours later we are here and all is doing well.  With luck we should meet the launch date of April as planned, no thanks to the incompetence of Griffin Moulds.  It's a shame, as Griffin had done some good work for Slot Rally GB, for whom I did all their masters, but suddenly they screwed us badly.
Here's the right hand side replacement, prior to clean up:-

Monday, 4 February 2019

You can go your own way...

Sang Fleetwood Mac.  Well sometimes you just can't get your customers to agree with you on what needs to be made, so you have to just do 'em anyways and then send them off to be cast as "freebie" masters as long as you get 3 or 4 back for nuttn'.  That's the deal I worked with some of my favourite cars.
It started with the achingly sweet little Amilcar CG6. I'd always loved this tiny racer since I first saw the drawings in Model Cars magazine in the 60s.  1100cc, twin cam, supercharged straight six, I mean, come on, what's not to like!

Then there was the too gorgeous Morgan SLR.  That's away on the to do pile already.

And recently I sent off to the same chum, for resin casting, the following, which I'd had kicking around for years and finally decided to finish.
The Piper GTT and the Trident Venturer.  I had the real ones, so I had to have a model of each, didn't I?

So, I suppose that'll keep him busy for a while and might even earn him a few bob towards resin costs, if other people show the same great good taste as me.   Meanwhile, I'll be getting some freebies to turn into various versions of "Cars I have owned".

Just as I started sending these last bits off, my younger son decided he was going to have a bash at resin casting, by moulding some old bits of mine he found, which I thought had got chucked out!  These included yet another I did because I happened to like them, a Mallock U2 Mk 18 Clubmans racer.  So now I have one of these arriving from him soon.  And he has taken to this lark like a duck to the village pond.
                                     The mould is damaged, but he's offered to re-mould it once I've cleaned the moulding into a nice new master.  What a good lad!