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| | From:  Rhumour (Original Message) | Sent: 11/6/2008 11:51 PM |
This is the beginnings of a tale I expect to keep in short story form....
An Artist by any other name
It was now sealed, and momentarily the thought crossed his mind, possibly his fate was also. Bureaucracy was a perpetual thorn in his side �?he was an artist, a creative
mind, he had little time for, or understanding of paper shuffling as he called it.
He tossed the brown envelope onto a small shelf near the door. If he managed to glance that way later he might just remember to take it to the post box, though maybe not........
These were distractions from the creative processes that drove him, from his very raison d'etre and he could ill afford to be any later than the next day to finish the
project �?really it was supposed to be there that afternoon, but a begging phone call had secured him a small extension and he was now planning on a 300 mile car journey in the morning to deliver his piece. Fingers crossed that it would squeeze into his car without damage.
Hmm, what about petrol money he thought �?better raid the reserves as it would be a good few quid to get there and back. The freezer door resisted his first efforts to open it �?a slightly perished sealing strip had bonded firmly to the frame so he searched the nearest drawer and found a knife to prise it open. The thick plastic bag was wound round with elastic bands �?that too needed freeing up from the ice at the back of the compartment.
With the door slammed shut again he strode to the kettle and found it empty as ever. A quick splash of water and the lid crash back on as he hurried to the old Rayburn range that served to warm the kitchen. Drops of water fizzled as they ran down the outside and hit the hot plate. Meanwhile the small bundle lingered on an old chopping board whilst its frosty jacket transformed at leisure from white crystals into clear beads.
These small noises and changes occupied his thoughts for a fleeting moment until he snapped back into concentration mode �?there were still more pieces to cut and smooth and fit into their allotted places. He moved over to an old oak table that was somewhat scarred by previous cutting efforts. A quick wipe over to remove fragments and he was ready to lay the cushion of newspaper on the table - more to protect the sheet of glass he was about to score than the table.
Phweeeeee! The kettle was insistent so although he had already reached for the six millimetre glass sheet standing against the wall he hesitated momentarily as the choice of actions rattled through his mingled thoughts. The kettle won and he
managed to avoid kicking the table leg as he turned hastily to shut off the distraction on the stove.
In less than two minutes the steam from his mug was condensing on the cooler surface of the wall and he was back at work measuring and scoring the glass sheet to form the individual sections that would then need smoothing, washing, drying
and buffing up before they could be assembled. Within 40 minutes all the preparations were done and the serious business of assembling these final elements began with the tediously careful application of masking tape 4mm in from the long edges of each joint. That task completed he carefully laid out the pieces in their correct order and ensured several pieces of masking tape were pre-cut ready to hold
everything together. Each edge was now given a final wipe with methylated spirit to remove any traces of oil from his own skin.
The really tricky part was soon upon him �?applying a steady pressure to the cartridge gun trigger, he guided the nozzle skilfully along the bare edges of glass before laying the tool aside and checking his fingers were cleaned again.
Gently he brought the edges together and pressed them until the silicone adhesive was evenly squeezed between the glass pieces �?one at a time he joined another and another until the complete assembly was rising vertically from the table.
He paused to gulp down some of his now lukewarm beverage, then set the mug down again and wiped his fingers dry from those tiny beads of perspiration that always came to pester him when work was nearly finished. A few slight adjustments with the aid of a set square and a level gauge and he was satisfied that it
was time to apply the tape pieces that would keep everything in place while the silicone cured.
A deep breath before he tackled the fiddly task of removing the internal masking tape pieces highlighted just how critical this step could be �?but with a firm grip on the doubled over end of the first strip and a thin steel rule in his other hand he began the steady lifting of the tape away from the glass to reveal a smooth straight line of silicone.
Before long the multiple curled pieces of messy tape were covering the far side of the table and he was again checking the structure was true and square. Relief at last �?BR>a few hours and he could remove those last supporting pieces of tape and pack the various sections ready for the journey. His relief needed some support however, so the mug was soon re-filled but this time with the addition of a little shot of whisky �?ok, a generous shot of whisky to help him relax.
Music, must have some music too he thought and he ducked down to the bottom shelf of the TV stand to bring the VHS tape player to life �?he had taped a Pink Floyd
concert earlier that week and was in exactly the right mood to hear it at a compelling volume. If he did win the cash prize a chunk would get blown on some seriously decent Hi Fi he chuckled to himself as the TV speakers protested while their cones were stretched violently beyond all expected norms........... |
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