The batten in the picture is not my original batten so kindly donated by Mr Mushroom, which I mentioned in an earlier post. That batten, I’m afraid, was victim to a curious habit of mine—that of discovering a mistake then rushing willy-nilly to rectify the error in the wildly mistaken hope that if I do it quickly enough neither I nor anyone else will notice.
In this case I’d made the centreboard 1cm shorter than drawn by reading 47.6 as 46.7(it’s sad I know) and, desperate to cover up my blunder, I rifled the pile of scrap wood for something suitable to make a 1cm laminate on the leading edge of the centreboard. When nothing came to hand I turned my possessed gaze towards the batten, my clean, even grained
With the sticky remains of the batten in my hands I shuddered at the thought of other errors that my curious double dyslexia/dementia might be working into the boat. Maybe it’s time for the plums and cheese.
The cut panels received a coat of epoxy. And the curing coat of epoxy received several litres of water in the form of a Mediterranean downpour during the night. The Heath-Robinson oxygen tent that I’d hurriedly constructed in the dark kept the worst off but the panels will have to be sanded back and recoated.
Unhygenix came by just as I was tiding up and did his usual thing of picking through my tools as if he was at a flea market, I was just about to warn him to be careful with the belt-sander (really I was) when he switched it on. I couldn’t restrain a smile as Bertie bolted across the workbench like a racehorse with mustard on his tucus.