Senility approaches in an unconscious yet insidious manner, once retirement and the degenerative status of being a wrinkly is irretrievably established. I am now virtually a month old OAP and so much has happened to make the matter incontrovertible it is beginning to feel like the morning of execution.
The tax man (bless his heart) has written to me informing me of my revised tax codes and how they will be applied to my various pensions. He was, in addition, sufficiently gracious to advise me that if I need to receive the notification in large type letters all I have to do is ring the number provided and ask the kind lady at the other end for the details on Form BOS 65+ #. How he supposes that, had I really required large letter communication, I am supposed to be able to read the letter he sent me, which is printed in small type, to find the telephone number, I have absolutely no idea. But the illustrious tax man is a civil servant : so he is demonstrably brighter than myself, who is, after all, merely a common plebian. And a wrinkly one too.
I've had this bright idea you see.
And my experience of having bright ideas of this magnitude are linked to that younger persons equivalent dillusional condition called by some, exuberant enthusiasm, and by others as blithering stupidity.
The problem for old folk such as me, is that these early stages of senility render me feeling that I'm being perfectly rational, whilst those around who snigger or abuse my suggestions are being short-sighted, obtuse, unnecessarily obstructive or just plain dull-witted.
Everyone else in the world; be they manufacturer, experienced craftsman, teacher or advertiser, have always laid their mount-cutter, flat, on a bench. Some incline the surface of their bench slightly, for ease of use. But without exception, so far as I am aware all mount-cutters lie, to all intents and purposes, flat.
Now if you have read my 'Not Fit For Purpose' blog you will be aware of at least one of the primary problems with adopting this position.
This Primary Problem, coupled with the increasingly pressing need to house as much equipment in the relatively small amount of space that I have available to work in, has led me to my Bright Idea.
Why not stand the mount-cutter upright, against the wall, standing its base end on a framework akin to a large artists easel?
That will liberate the bench, which is, in fact, my old but immensely sturdy Bieffe manual drawing board, which folds flat when not in use thereby accessing more available space.
All of this cerebral ingenuity has been occasioned by the purchase of the Fletcher 1100 elliptical mount-cutter, and the necessary requirement of finding space to permanently position it. It won't be used every day, but must nevertheless be easily accessible and available for use, at any time.
So, today, I have designed and made a rather sturdy easel-type framework, upon which to place the Fletcher 2100 mat cutter.
If I can lift the mat cutter onto my 'easel'.
If it works.
If it doesn't topple over and kill me.
If it doesn't crash through the floor and kill Val, working on her laptop in the dining room below;
I'll post some pictures:
I'll set the world alight with my innovative ideas.
I'll have every mat cutter manufacturer in the land beating a path to my door with offers of ludicrously large sums of money if I will join their company.
If, as I suspect it may be, this is merely a pipe dream, I'll write a blog about very nice men, each dressed in sparkling white coats, with a leather cosh in their pocket.
I wouldn't hold your breath if I were you. You could go a very funny colour
# BOS 65+, I presume is a form specifically for Blind Old Sods.