Fitting In

The all pervading gloom of the day is taking a toll on my joie de vivre.
His Lordship on the other hand was as happy as a sandboy as he tripped out of the house at an early hour with his sandwiches and waterproofs to meet up in Biggar with his 'last of the summer wine' pals, who seem to be dropping like flies as the vagaries of age catch up with them.

A trip to find fava beans was not wholly unsuccessful: I did find dried ones which look nothing like the verdant green ones of Santa Rosa. In an experiment to see how I could manage to reconstitute them to something edible, I managed to burn them and the pan while attending to some bike work outside.
It was the smell wafting out of the kitchen that reminded me that they were on the stove and had turned black as a cinder. This meant a goodly time trying to get the pan back to something resembling its former self with the help of a pot scourer and much elbow grease.

Why does any bike adjustment need to be so difficult? Nuts and screws are always seem to be in places where no spanner or bike tool seems to turn comfortably without striking an immovable part of the frame.

I was trying to attach a saddle bag holder to the seat post, which required fiddling with bolts behind the rack at an angle where my tools didn't want to fit.
There was also the levelling of the saddle which has become loose and was sloping uncomfortably. The positioning bolt underneath almost required me to stand on my head in order to see what I was doing. What I need is a resident bike mechanic........and HL is not he.

It all worked out in the end except the fava beans burned. I hope the evil smell vanishes before His Lordship returns from the hills.