This is just along the road, it has some E numbers to test your grip on an overhang round the corner, and looks a bit like the mountain from Close Encounters of the Third Kind.
The bloke in the security office was watching me, and shut the gate to er, stop me taking photies. His actions reminded me of a bird pretending to have a broken wing to lure a predator away from its nest, that is, it would work on something lower down the evolutionary chain, but not a human. Well, most humans. To give him peace of mind I looked frustrated, shook the camera and went away all upset.
This week I also found some of Price’s fine motor oil, complete with its wee applicator, from 1909. Some of the stuff I work on is properly old. It smells… indefinable, oily, fruity, not stale at all. Maybe it’s been refilled over the years, but the bloke that let me in had been there for fifty years and never seen it, so who knows. I wonder who bought them over?
Final stop of the week was familiar, but when you know where the lights switches are, maybe a little dramatic too.
I love working in old buildings like churches, you seem to get peace to get on with your work, the folk in charge are often retired and know their shit, and usually yours as well. That’s good though, you don’t have to explain why you’re doing or proposing something to make the pipes work properly, you get “Aye right, can you make sure the floors are back down for Friday tea-time?”.
Yes, they will be. The edges just might have to duct-taped down ’til Monday.