Groan - dead brains don't dance

beyond the last visible dog

Jul. 15th, 2013

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03:37 pm - Groan

Self-inflicted, of course; I started easy with wall-mounting a half-Billy on Saturday, but on Sunday morning, our friend Samantha rang to tell us that the ex-pub-redevelopment fenceposts she'd mentioned to us were ready to deliver, and when could John bring them round? Over a dozen 4x4 posts, then, wheelbarrowed from John's van to the yard and, so the yard didn't end up littered with unchopped wood once again, cut into woodburner-sized chunks. 

I started with the table saw, which doesn't quite cut deep enough to go through the posts cut from all four sides, so finally broken apart using our woodsplitter. After a few posts, I thought bugger this, and switched to using the power saw, with the posts in the log clamp. Split into five, and (two blades later) all done, without having to squat on the ground, but with added vibration. Those posts aren't exactly tropical hardwood, but they're hard enough. In retrospect, the chainsaw might have been easier. Oh, and I emptied half the logstore, so I could put this stuff at the bottom. And chopped a good few of the overlong real logs while I had the tools out. Thankfully, all done before the weather got really hot later in the afternoon.

Then, in the evening, I went to the Hull Record Label Day gig at the Adelphi. And danced. Danced to Streaming Lights, then to HotMIM, and to Mammal Hum at the end of the evening. Between times, I may even have jiggled about a bit to the single Holy Order who did an emergency stand in for absent Tennents with a borrowed guitar, and to the Glass Delusion. It was a good night.

Today, I can feel it all in my bones and muscles.
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