A tenuous pearoast, you say? Oh alright, then:
My dad is a warchild, and thus resents having to replace absolutely anything.

He's a keen and celebrated scientist, and his office at the university when he was there was an original professor's combination of a desk surrounded by piles of books, batterered armchairs, and mechanical devices. Some of my first toys as a child were jigsaws for the undergraduates of the current working knowledge of DNA structures, and animal skulls, with which I'd play when he'd bring me into work with him. He made his coffee in a beaker on a tripod & gauze, over a bunsen burner on a blue flame. It took all of a minute and a half to make, as a result.

His current single bedroom flat is like a Heath Robinson cartoon designed by a graphophile: books line all the walls to the high ceilings, and everything nearly works. The cooker has a wedge with which to close the door, the fridge is leaning backwards slightly so that the door doesn't fly open when you open it, and the chest of drawers in the hallway fits so into the alcove so well it's supported by the skirting board.

The living room ceiling has an increasing amount of dents in it - he regularly drives to France to stock up on booze, and has a taste for champagne, and whenever he opens a bottle he likes to pop the cork with aplomb. Wherever the cork falls it stays, for another visitor to find, that he can regale them with the story of who that bottle was drunk with and what was discussed.

Without doubt my favourite mechanism is for the shower door, which requires the "magic paperclip" as the door does not quite fit flush to the bath. This is a clip bent in a manner just so, that, when hooked over there and then tucked into there, holds the door shut.

Gadjets? You can keep your gadjets - he makes his own.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Thu 29 Sep 2011, 13:23, 1 reply)

I like the sound of your dad

(IHateSprouts is baking a huge pie shaped like an enormous pie, Thu 29 Sep 2011, 16:07, closed)