Well, y’know, as I was saying to a rather nice lamp post the other morning when I was out walking my local council Five-a-Day Co-ordinator, these days you just don’t seem to be able to get the parts. Not that there is much in the way of parts these days. It is all self-contained modules, slotted together like some gizmotronic Lego in some country far away, probably by twelve year-olds knocking together several hundred of the buggers a day. All while our own twelve year-olds (of all ages) are stuck gawping slack-mouthed at the shiny thing.
So, where does that leave us when bits start to fall off our social worker, or the supply geography teacher needs rewiring, or even if we just have to replace the batteries in a electro-weasel.
Buggered that’s where.
As usual….
There was a day, it seemed, when most men could take apart and rebuild almost everything in their lives, or – at least – they had a mate who could. While women could make a whole set of clothes for the family, re-cover a three-piece suite out of an old curtain and still have enough material lefty over to re-clothe an entire emerging nation or stitch together a wide selection of warm winter hats for the penguins.
Not that the penguins were ever grateful.
However, that’s the penguins for you.
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