Friday, 10 February 2017

Buffy: The lovely dust

Having now established that my labours to include my Instagram feed in the sidebar of this site will be of no benefit to anyone reading this on a mobile, I thought I'd share my favourite Instagram photo from the few I took yesterday.

The end of an evening's hard graft.

Hels and I spread a thin, protective layer of epoxy over the decks last Sunday. It seemed like a good idea at the time. The temperature then crashed to about -2C overnight, and the epoxy failed to properly cure, leaving a waxy residue over the entirety of the deck. By about Tuesday evening it became obvious it really wasn't going to get any better, so by Wednesday I caved into the inevitable and Dad and I started sanding it back.

I say sanding; it was more properly a case of rubbing at the waxy decks with sandpaper until the stuff stopped rubbing off. Imagine trying to sand a candle. It was a bit like that.

By about 2200 Thursday evening we were about done, and the decks were once more producing a lovely layer of fine, dry dust anywhere the sandpaper touched instead of horrid little rolled sausages of waxy, failed glue. Dad set about hoovering up the dust, and I sat back and took a photograph of him doing so.

I call that a proper distribution of duties. To each according to his needs, from each according to his abilities. Or something like that.

We were in any case essentially back to where we'd started last Sunday. Which you'd think would be a depressing thing, but actually, after all the raw muscle-power involved in returning the decks to a state fit to receive a first coat of varnish, was strangely satisfying.

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