Mahinda’s Little World

So, last week. I say last week, as I’m cunningly editing the timestamp of this post to make it look as though I’ve not spent bloody ages without posting. Because that’ll fool you all.

Last week. Definitely last week. I did…stuff, but it was mostly about my car and the weekend. There was plenty else besides…

Mike and Debbie’s Wedding

Okay, technically the week before last (before last). I headed down to Bury St. Edmunds for Mike and Debbie’s wedding. Seeing Mike getting married was bizarre enough, but seeing him getting married to a woman topped it off

Mike’s a friend from uni — we lived together (amongst others) in 2nd year, and he’s never quite forgiven me for moving out. Debbie, or "Debbie-the-nurse" to use her full title was, surprisingly, one of a group of nurses we knew. She was the best one! 

I stayed in the White Horse, over in Beyton, which really was rather nice — a proper old inn with decent rooms (in a converted barn/stables) and really helpful staff. Daz and Woolly Phil (plus associated other halves), two of Mike’s old school chums, were also staying there, which was handy. I knew Daz from Manchester stuff, and bizarrely knew The Wooooolly One through some MUGSS friends who shared a postgrad lab with him.

Anyway, the wedding itself was at rather more impressive Ravenwood Hall Hotel, specifically in its Edwardian pavilion — as a location for a wedding (and reception), it gave it all an air of Victorian (yes, I know) summer society. The Pimms helped.

I killed two birds with one stone by staying at the parental abode on Friday night, then returning on Sunday to help host a barbecue. What I’ll never understand is just how mum, despite being an absolutely excellent cook generally, cannot barbecue at all. We’re talking raw-on-the-inside chicken here. I manned the grill for the whole afternoon, before driving home pretty late, knackered.

Hockey in the Park VII

It’s back! The first session ended up 7-a-side or thereabouts, complete with a scattering of newbies (Sandrine, Helen and Judith).

The ground was particularly lumpy, Rosy was particularly manic…it was good.

We even went for a curry afterwards. Now that the mighty King Cobra is no more (as documented previously, I’m sure), we ended up deciding to try a new place — we walked along until we found Shandaar, which none of us had tried before. Or, in my case, since about 1997. It was good, with plenty of unusual special dishes…none of which came with descriptions. I’ll definitely head there again sometime.

Car Trouble

On Monday, there was a bit of a scraping sound coming from the front driver’s side wheel of my car. It was very faint. I’d have said that it was most likely a brake pad…except that dad and I had checked them not too long ago, and they had plenty of wear left in them.

By Wednesday, it was considerably worse, and it wasn’t just when braking. I feared that it was a dodgy wheel bearing.

On Thursday morning, it was so bad that I checked it into a garage on the way into work, fearing the worst. It turned out that the brake pad had worn down completely, and was scoring the disc. Ooops. The garage also pointed to a few issues with the back brakes.

I called dad, and he said I should just change the front pads and ignore the rest. Easy…in theory. I had two pairs of pads in the boot, and a Haynes manual. I tried to do it that evening after work, but found that it needed an Allen key somewhere between a 6mm and a 10mm. 8mm then, 7mm being a silly and uncommon size.

So, I left the car at work and cycled in on Friday morning, all tooled up. Come 4.30pm, and I started. The wheel came off, to reveal pads that had worn down to the metal and a disc that was looking a bit scratched (although nowhere near as badly as the garage had made out). I triumphantly applied my 8mm Allen key…and it didn’t fit.

Bugger.

I stuck my head into the wheel arch, and checked that it really was an Allen bolt that needed sorting. It was. 7mm. Who on Earth uses one of those?!

Somewhat devastated, I hopped on my bike and headed to Halford’s. None of their Allen key sets featured a 7mm. None. I purchased a cheap socket set — even if the ratchet head failed, it had a simple bar that could be used.

Back to the work car park, and I applied the new tool. The first bolt loosened happily, so I left that half-off and went for the second.

I pulled, and the damn thing snapped. Not the ratchet head — oh no, that would be simple. The "bit", as in, the 1-inch bit of metal that formed the actual Allen head, had sheared clean in half, diagonally, leaving half of itself embedded in the bolt that I was trying to remove.

At this point, I was almost in tears. The one thing that had gone right for me in the whole operation (it was now after 6pm, and I was trying to get to the Lake District by 10pm)…and it had f***ed up through no fault of my own.

I spent the next 40 minutes swearing at the embedded bit of metal, trying to get it out. Being at the back of the brake caliper, it was a bugger to access, never mind remove — I couldn’t see what I was working on, and relied on touch.

I finally got it out and headed back to Halfords. At this point, I really wasn’t in a good mental state — definitely a bit unstable. I probably looked it, too, as the chap in Halfords offered to replace the set without much fuss.

As a last resort, I went and begged the bloke at the bike shop. I must have looked a state, covered in grease and with a distinct whiff of desperation, pleading for a 7mm Allen key. It worked! Blokey then spent the best part of 10 minutes rooting through the toolbox looking for one — he’d never used one on a bike, anyway. One was found, and I was told that I may as well keep it for the weekend — it wasn’t as though they were going to use it there!

Thank you, human nature. And thank you, Alastair from Halfords in Altrincham.

Back I went, and changed the offending pads. The piston (that pushes the pads on to the disc) was pretty stiff, but I sorted it eventually with brute force.

Off to the other front wheel…and the pads were fine. Absolutely fine, with at least 60% of their lining left on them. Very bizarre — I’d not noticed uneven braking or anything, so for a matched set of pads to wear down so unevenly is very odd indeed. Needless to say, the sensor was on this side…which is why it hadn’t fired earlier.

Pads changed, and it was 7.30pm. Just managed to get into the office before the security firm locked off, to wash my hands before heading home.

I showered, packed frantically, and left the house just after 9pm, I think it was. I had to get up to the Lake District!

But that’s another story…