Oh the bloody shame of it….

     Hoping to have some respite from seasonal gluttony, my sloth like physical state induced by the usual non too healthy Christmas fare and descended relatives, I decided to take myself to the Orc’s Workshop this afternoon. This was in the forlorn hope of doing something productive and perhaps clearing my fuddled head. Unfortunately during the last few months I had taken to using the workshop as a sort of dumping ground for all manner of future projects. You see I have this addiction of ‘collecting’ items that I am sure will either come in useful, be restored for a handsome profit or just because they are nice and shiny. Surely there must be some sort medical help for such an horrendous affliction that leaves a man incapable of using his workshop for its intended purpose. Just think of the riches the scientist who came up with such a cure would be showered with, a Noble prize would be the very least of the honours bestowed upon her I am sure. And yes I did say ‘her’ for there is no possibility of a man coming up with the cure, it just goes so against the primitive man’s way of thinking I feel!

    Anyway I feel that we are losing the wind here and there is a need to get back on tac m’thinks. Opening the door to my refuge and place of deepest meditation I was confronted with this unholy and damn shameful site….

My head is bowed in shame…

    I consoled myself with the thought that at least I would not have allowed the inner sanctum (barely glimpsed on the left side of the above picture) to fall into such neglect and disarray. I mean it is the nucleus of my thinking (scheming), design (doodling), coffee imbibing, working of mechanical miracles (hitting lawnmowers with various hammers) and general brilliance (lots of swearing ). There is absolutely no way that I would disrespect the Norse gods and risk their wrath by dishonouring the inner sanctum of the Orc’s Workshop, absolutely no way at all….

Bugger..

    So it seems that my proposed birthplace of world trade domination is in a ….ahem…. a little bit of a state and is not really the place to work in comfort and in an organised manner. I thought of just retreating and closing the door behind me, perhaps hoping for an act of a certain Norse deity striking it down with his mighty hammer leaving me just to claim an exorbitant fee against the shysters from the dark shadows known as ‘insurance companies’. But then again the state of the workshop is completely down to my actions and the Norse Gods do not help those whom fail to help themselves. So rolling up my sleeves, figuratively so ‘cause without any source of heat the workshop is a bloody cold place this time of year, I cleared off the chair of meditation from its debris and set too making a plan of action. The full list that this induced is far too long for me to write here but it involves tidying and organisation (yes I know that’s bloody obvious), structural repairs, insulation (the walls are only a single course thick for Odin’s sake!), floor levelling, better workstations, improve the electrics and a friggen decent heat source.

    Oh and I did make a start upon tiding as at the very least I require a workbench on which to perform some minor miracles if the workshop is to progress…

And breathe..

    I have a sneaky feeling that the work ahead will not be without issues and certainly a lot of time will be spent moving stuff from one side of the workshop to the other for me to be able to facilitate (ooohh big word) the changing of the w’shop from its present state to a functioning area. I also know that my use of the Anglo Saxon language will give the w’shop’s air a lovely blue tint.

Til the next time stay safe and enjoy your life.

John t’ shamed