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You may have read my recent post The “Mechanics” Hour which ended “To be continued….” well, read on for the continuum …

Fast forward one full week, two more guests (from Yorkshire this time) and one more motorbike.  A lovely day, damp evening and…yip…the bike refused to start in the morning!

Keyfob for Motorbike

“I don’t believe it, are you doing something to these things at night?” asked our neighbour incredulously.

The mechanic duly arrived, much more quickly than the last and with only one phone call for directions.  He declared the bike “fit” and after much deliberation between the three men decided the problem was with the immobiliser.   It wasn’t in his remit to fix immobilisers so didn’t have the correct sized battery but he did offer to give our guests a lift to the nearest town as it was on his way back to base.

Our guests  returned a couple of hours later, having scoured the small town but failing to find the correct sized battery – they’re really odd shaped dinky little things – the batteries that is, not the guests!

Howard at Glen Trool, Galloway Forest

Whilst we ladies chatted over a cuppa, warming the old battery in an attempt to breathe life into it, the chaps hunted through boxes of junk on the off-chance of finding something useful amongst our cumulative collection of old electrical equipment and spare parts.

Neither tactic was successful.

Eventually, Mr Fix-it, aka my beloved, came up trumps again.   Getting out his soldering iron (he never misses an opportunity to whip out a gadget) he jerry-rigged a 6V battery and soldered it directly onto the connections inside of the immobiliser itself.

With the words “s**t or bust” being muttered by the male contingent, the motorbike was approached and zapped.

Low and behold, it worked!

Now, if  you’ve never seen a 15 stone, leather clad Yorkshireman bear hug a fellow compatriot I can tell you, it’s a sight to behold!

With the motorbike running and profuse thanks, our guests declared themselves founder members of the Easingwold Branch of the Howard Galley Fan Club and drove off into the sunset.

Come and meet the man himself ;0)

Copyright © 2011 by Cordelia

All rights reserved

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Afternoon Tea in the Conservatory

It turned out to be a foul summer’s day.  The rain, although admittedly warm, came down like stair rods all morning.  The guests, whom we were expecting in the evening, arrived a little after lunch.  They had given up on sightseeing and decided warmth and comfort were a better option.  This is even more understandable when you consider that they lived in beautiful, sunny Barcelona and arrived on a motorbike!  With leathers hung up in the laundry room to dry, guests showered and changed and the offer of putting the bike in the garage declined, our guests made themselves comfortable in the conservatory with a cup of tea, scones and biscuits and a book each to read.

And wonderful guests they were.  They were touring the country, as they had done for a number of years and their English put our three words of Spanish to shame.  They were pleased when I presented them with a Spanish feast for their evening meal and we all chatted by the fire long into the evening.

The Log Fire

A full Scottish breakfast was requested and, with the sun beginning to break through, on their bike they jumped.  And that’s where everything stops, literally, for a while at least.  The motorbike refused to start.

As his lordship knows as much about motorbikes as I do we called a recovery service!

“He’s on a job at the moment Mrs Galley”, said the operator when they phoned back an hour later “but will be with you in an hour”.

You have to remember that these are “mechanics’ hours” which are quite unlike any measurement of time that you or I are used to.  As time went by the guests progressed from the conservatory, to sunbathing on the lawn, to seeking shade from the mid-day sun.  The recovery service did eventually arrive, having phoned twice for directions despite being confident that he knew the area … three and a half hours later!

No, the saga doesn’t end there … after two hours of blowing pipes (whatever that is?) and lengthy calls to the bike manufacturer, the bike was officially declared ‘sick’ and needed to be taken to the nearest main dealer – 90 miles away and “no, it won’t fit into this van, I’ll have to call for a recovery vehicle which will take about an hour”.

Yes, a mechanics’ hour once again! By then, the sun had vanished behind the storm clouds and thunder was rattling around the hills above Balkissock.

Knockdolian Hill

The guests had retreated to the shelter of the summer house to continue reading their books and I was preparing the tea when the recovery vehicle arrived.  Not a good advert for our automobile recovery services!

As I said earlier, lovelier guests we couldn’t have asked for, they remained upbeat throughout “it’s only one day, we’re fine” their parting words following profuse thanks for the extended hospitality.

To be continued ….

Copyright © 2011 by Cordelia

All rights reserved

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