Get Back Together

I have known my best friends since our school days. This weekend I went to a 25 year school re-union but he didn’t. He asked me to report back to him. This is the report that I will send.

Xxxx Xxxxxx        Pretentious and self-assured
Xxxx Xxxxxx        ?
Xxxx Xxxxxx        Looks considerably less like a weasel. Similar professional life to mine. I intend to stay in touch.
Xxxx Xxxxxx        Scrawney and fashionable. Funny, friendly, still rides motorbikes. Making childish jokes and drawing cocks on name badges.
Xxxx Xxxxxx        And like all self-styled colourful characters he is in fact impotent.
Xxxx Xxxxxx        ?
Xxxx Xxxxxx        Has Aged.
Xxxx Xxxxxx        Friendly and talkative. Is something to do with Army bases. Remembers me fondly. Sounds much more Scottish than I ever remember
Xxxx Xxxxxx        Is heavier. Friendly and funny.
Xxxx Xxxxxx        ?
Xxxx Xxxxxx        ?
Xxxx Xxxxxx        Who was very plain, and absolutely must be in her early 40s like the rest of us. Improbably sexy.
Xxxx Xxxxxx        Much the same.
Xxxx Xxxxxx        Unchanged.
Xxxx Xxxxxx        ?
Xxxx Xxxxxx        Charming, as shapely as ever, wearing her age honestly.
Xxxx Xxxxxx        Annoying.
Xxxx Xxxxxx        Unchanged.
Xxxx Xxxxxx         ?
Xxxx Xxxxxx         Not as moley
Xxxx Xxxxxx         ?
Xxxx Xxxxxx         ?
Xxxx Xxxxxx         ?
Xxxx Xxxxxx         Slightly different haircut. Otherwise unchanged
Xxxx Xxxxxx         Looks like Walter White now. I didn't have a lot to talk to him about.
Xxxx Xxxxxx         Unchanged.
Xxxx Xxxxxx         ?
Xxxx Xxxxxx         Tall thin and ginger. Unsurprisingly
Xxxx Xxxxxx         ?
Xxxx Xxxxxx         ?
Xxxx Xxxxxx         ?
Xxxx Xxxxxx         Is now a woman. Looks a bit like Linda Belcher's sister
Xxxx Xxxxxx         ?
Xxxx Xxxxxx         As you would expect - Enormous and enormously camp
Xxxx Xxxxxx         ?
Xxxx Xxxxxx         ?
Xxxx Xxxxxx         Looks like an old lady. Does something in the legal profession.
Xxxx Xxxxxx         I'm basically as hopelessly infatuated with her as I was in the 5th year.
Xxxx Xxxxxx         ?
Xxxx Xxxxxx         Remembered me and my struggles with the English language staff. I have no recollection of her
Xxxx Xxxxxx         ?
Xxxx Xxxxxx         ?
Xxxx Xxxxxx         Still resents the reverend Sneary.
Xxxx Xxxxxx         Not rocking back and forth. Seemed perfectly pleasant.
Xxxx Xxxxxx         ?
Xxxx Xxxxxx         Almost unchanged.
Xxxx Xxxxxx         ?
Xxxx Xxxxxx         Fat
Xxxx Xxxxxx         ?

Richard "Boley" B

Good Advice

In the last week I've heard two different bits of dating advice for women. They weren't what I would have expected.

A (flat chested) female friend of mine told me about some advice that she received in the 90's. When she started going out with a man her best friend (who's also not particularly booby) told her not to wear her Wonderbra. "What? Why?". "He'll only be disappointed in the future."

At the weekend I overheard a male friend of mine (the man-slut drummer) giving advice to a woman. It also had gestures. "Cup the balls, work the shaft".

Richard "I know which date I would rather have been on" B

Bobbling

Dear Guernsey Woollens Ltd.

I must complain to you about the quality of your sweaters. I have been using one of your traditional guernseys for motorcycling, and while the fit and warmth are good, I am sorely disappointed with the quality and longevity of the garment. It has frayed at the neck and cuffs, torn at the hem and the knitting has worn thin at the chest. When it started to show signs of wear I turned it around and wore it back-to-front to extend its life. Even so I only got ten years of daily use before it was completely worn out. I took it back to the shop but was unable to get a refund or a replacement, in fact they charged me full price for a new one!

Richard "yarmo" B

Cryptanalysis

Some of my friends portray me as some kind of Rain Man/Beautiful Mind/Sheldon Cooper weirdo. It's not true, but there are hints of accuracy in it. I certainly struggle with things like knowing whether people are taking the piss, and when I shouldn't tell people the unvarnished truth. I also like understanding systems and finding patterns.

When I went on Holiday to Porto, as well as the food, drink, history and sights I particularly enjoyed the (Portuguese-only) ticket machine at the metro station. By the end of the holiday I knew how to use most of the transport system and managed to add all-day-metro-travel and a one way trip on the funicular to an existing ticket. My friend said it was like going on holiday to Bletchley Park with Alan Turing.

At the weekend I found myself in a very busy KFC waiting for order number 2203. I had heard about half a dozen previous numbers and when order 8380 was called my friend asked "Do you think the order numbers are random?". To me they seemed anything but random. "No, they are a two digit operator code followed by a two digit sequence id. The bloke is operator 83, she's 40 and the girl with the glasses is 22. We're her third order since she came on shift. That couple will have just got order number 2204. The next one they call will be 2202, 8381, or 40-something.

Richard "I didn't even know Kentucky had its own football club" B

Walk Fat Boy Walk

One of my very good friends has Chronic Myeloid Leukemia. After his diagnosis he was helped by, and was very impressed by the charity Bloodwise. On Saturday I walked from Exeter to Dawlish to raise money for them. While he sponsored me, one of my colleagues said that it didn't sound like much of a challenge, and that I should at least do it barefoot, or with a hat made out of a pineapple, or something. It was a long walk, and I now have blistered feet and a bloody bruise under a toenail. My sponsor will be pleased to know that I did have to do battle with two of nature's most fearsome foes: The sea, and a wittering old lady.

The last section of the walk was along the seawall at Dawlish. It was blowing about force 6 onshore and the waves were breaking over the wall. I didn't get swept to my death, but I finished the walk drenched head to foot with seawater.

Most of the people on the walk were lovely but going too slowly for me. (They were generally walking with some combination of children, dogs, and bloodbourne cancers). I ended up at the front and absolutely unable to avoid talking to a boring old woman. She went on and on about herself, how the walk should have been advertised, standards in journalism, standards in teaching and the decline of Exeter. I found her so irritating that whatever subject she started banging on about I would take the most opposite and offensive viewpoint that I could. Sadly she was absolutely un-wind-up-able and despite an hour's concerted effort I failed to provoke an argument.

Thank you very much to everybody who sponsored me. It really is a worthy cause.

Richard "nobody said I had to be polite or magnanimous" B

TMax Fever

The Yamaha T-MAX is susceptible to a disease where it won't restart in hot weather. Mine developed the disease and I thought that it was a battery problem. I was wrong. This is everything that I know for sure about T-MAX Fever: In essence it is "The bike will start after a few hours. Go and buy an endoscope"

(This relates to the XP500, I don't know if any of it holds true for the newer XP530)

• If you turn the ignition on while the stop/run switch is set to run, then the fuel pump should run for 2 seconds. You can hear the relay click behind the headlamp, and you can hear the fuel pump run under the front of the saddle.
• During a bout of T-MAX fever the relay clicks but the fuel pump doesn't run.
• Whatever the problem is, it exists within the fuel tank. I managed to disconnect the fuel line and check that the pump was getting power - it still didn't run until the bike had cooled down for several hours.
• The fuel pump runs all the time that the engine is running. A fuel pressure regulator valve inside the tank directs most of this fuel back into the tank, the fuel line to the injectors should be pressurised to 2.5bar.
• The fuel tank contains a single complicated unit comprising the filter, pump, pressure regulator, fuel level sender, wiring, and connectors.

The motor is on the left next to the filter. The F.P.R is just visible on the right below the main column.

• Yamaha calls this whole unit the "fuel pump" and they don't sell the individual components. They charge about £400 for the unit. The thieving bastards.
• It is easy to get a replacement pump to fit into this unit.
• It is nearly impossible to get a replacement F.P.R for this unit. Polini sells one (part number 1730001) that runs at 3.5 bar rather than 2.5 bar. It seems to have the same dimensions as a F.P.R. from an old Toyota MR2 but that has an even higher fuel pressure pressure.
• During correct operation petrol pisses out of the F.P.R and runs back into the tank.
• If I owned an endoscope I could have checked that this was happening by simply stuffing it into the tank through the filler - I don't.
• On my bike the F.P.R had seized - unfortunately my attempt to "free" the valve destroyed it.

This is what I believe happened:

1. Innumerate environmentalists persuaded everyone that petrol should be laced with ethanol.
2. Galvanic corrosion between the different metals seized the F.P.R.
3. The pump has been working against a solid column of fluid, labouring and cavitating and eventually overheating.
4. The hot pump just about carries on spinning, but won't restart once it's stopped.

I have fitted a new (second hand) unit to my bike, judging by what I've read it's still from the susceptible batch. I might fit a fuel pressure take-off to the fuel line and buy a gauge but that is looking rather difficult. If the pump gets noisy, or if I have fever problems again I will rush out and buy an endoscope and observe the F.P.R. I'll keep my readers informed.

Richard "Everybody's got the Fever" B