Monthly Competition – December 2024

[Athelstone]

I did the first one of the year. Here’s the last. I’ve been fitting a kitchen. Plumbing, carpentry, stuff to a standard I’ve never managed before. Came close to giving up once or twice.

Up to 500 words on doing something really difficult.

[RichardB]

I salute you, Ath. The last time we had a kitchen makeover we had it done professionally, though to be fair to myself that was an intregal part of the deal. To show my respect I am actually responding to your prompt, for a change.

Modelling Therapy

I’ve always been a sucker for a nice model. In my youth I used to build plastic kits (Airfix and suchlike), but the problem with these is that the real skill lies not in the assembly but in the painting, and I’m pretty much ham-fisted with a paintbrush. I hadn’t done anything like this for a good while.

Until I became aware of the existence of large scale model kits, in the case of cars normally in 1/8 size. These are a different sort of kit. The base material is die-cast metal, with some parts in plastic and other materials as appropriate, and everything is pre-coloured. Whoopie, no painting. And assembly is principally by tiny screws, so there’s very little gluing to make a mess of either. Yes, they are expensive, but you can spread payment out over one or two years, getting a box of bits every one or two months. When I discovered that a model was available of one of my all-time favourite cars, the Porsche 917 endurance racer of 1969-71, I succumbed to the lure.

This is the car featured in the Steve McQueen movie Le Mans, but that wasn’t the appeal. Rather, it was that the car was an awesome beast, faster than the Formula One cars of its day, and looked the part. It is, however, not an ideal subject for a beginner in large-scale modelling. It has a complex multi-tubular chassis, and the engine has twelve cylinders and an insane ignition system: twenty-four sparking plugs, two distributors and four coils.

And in this scale there are no excuses, no glossing over. Every detail is depicted. That ignition system has to be wired up. Those sparking plugs, the buckles on the seat belts, the switches on the dashboard and other small details are separate pieces. The door catches work (and have to be assembled). There’s even a separate ignition key, about 3mm long. And some of the screws are just as small.

Now, I am not particularly dextrous (by the way, as a left-hander I object to that word), and I knew I was setting myself a challenge. But I thought it would do me good. It would keep my ageing brain ticking over, and shut out the depressing stuff around and within me by giving me something to focus on. Call it modelling therapy.

Yes, it has been a challenge, and yes, it has been therapeutic. There have been times when, struggling with some particularly fiddly or intractable parts, I’ve thought, ‘Oh God, I’ll never do this.’ And then, spurred on by the thought of all the money I’d be wasting, I’ve tried again and found that I can do it after all. This has taught me the value of perseverance, a virtue I’ve never been conspicuous for. And oh, the satisfaction when it finally comes right. Modelling therapy indeed.

The final challenge is going to be finding somewhere to keep it when it’s finished, because it’ll be nearly two feet long…

499 words

[Terrie]

Degrees Of Difficulty In My Life

(when it gets difficult  – make it  rhyme )

I find it difficult to hide the truth, or say things that are untrue.

I can’t fit inside a kayak, or paddle a canoe.

I can’t crochet anything or mend my pushbike brake

and bouncing on a trampoline is a jump I will not take.

At my age I can’t run so fast, or do anything as quick

And I can’t use penicillin, because it makes me sick.

It aint easy reading small-print on labels, like my meds,

It’s the same with lacing needles using wispy, cotton, threads.

I find it hard to do a handstand – It always ends in fails

And I won’t, eat, those escargots, the sticky, icky, snails.

Sudoku drives me round the twist – It’s not my idea of fun.

I used to do them regularly but I’ve never finished one.

I’m not great on moving stairs, or lifts, and I struggle opening jars.

I throw-up on roller-coasters, and in the back seat of most cars.

The keypad on new mobiles have shrunken down so small

My big fat fingers struggle to text anything at all.

I can’t drive in shoes, or boots – its slippers or bare feet

And I can’t say no to chocolate or anything that’s sweet.

I’ve tried to ski on water, I’m even worse on snow.

I can’t follow maps, or tom toms; don’t know left from right, you know.

I can’t eat a mushroom, a curry, or nut-butter

And pineapple and peppers set my tummy all a flutter.

I get seasick out on boats and I just can’t sing on-key.

So many things within my life are challenging for me.

I find it difficult to whistle, to diet, and even tie a knot,

So you might be thinking I’m a sad-sack but, actually, I’m not.

(311)

[Athelstone]

Oh Lord. Two entries. Both very different from what I expected. Not that I expected anything in particular, but I know what I mean. Both excellent. Richard’s engrossed me, as the protagonist was engrossed in the model. Terrie’s made me laugh out loud. There’s no winner or loser here, because it was a virtual toss of the coin. Richard, choose us a topic for the new year.

[RichardB]

Thanks, Ath. I should maybe point out that ‘the protagonist’ is in fact me. The brief didn’t say it had to be fiction, and my effort isn’t. I really am building, slowly and very carefully, a huge model car.

[Terrie]

My offering was much  the same  Richard.

I thought about all the things  that cause me difficulty  – didn’t know how to start  writing about it  and  ended up  making myself smile with a bit of  fun.

[Sandra]

Regrettably late to this – and non-participant – but what a joy to catch up with those that did make the effort- thank you @ Richard and @Terrie

[Author]

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