Do You Believe in the Clean-Arse Fairy?

I don't have children so I have never played the tooth-fairy and I have very rarely been Father Christmas. This year I went to a rented farmhouse for Christmas, it was preposterously over-full of knick-knacks, clutter, and my family. As Father Christmas I put money into stocking for my nieces and pseudo-nieces while they slept.

The only other time I have been Father Christmas was when I bought my mother a bicycle. I hid it in a friends of mine's garage so that it would be a surprise. On Christmas Eve I got absolutely wankered and then tried to quietly hide it under the tree. In fact I fell through the front door with the bike on my shoulder and we both clattered into the radiator.

This Christmas the farmhouse wasn't particularly well stocked with loo-roll. By the end of Christmas day we were already trading and consolidating our stocks. On Boxing day morning I went to the supermarket for supplies. As well as bread, milk and loo-roll I bought knickers and a top for my oldest niece who had been wearing the same clothes for 72 hours after she was separated from her luggage.

She appreciated the gift that I left by her bed while she slept, but as it contained loo-roll and knickers it did seem disturbingly arse-centric.

Richard "lace trim, fully lined gusset" B

Coat

The Sebag-Montefiore's are a wealthy and powerful family full of bankers, priests and authors. Although we don't know any of them, my family feels a certain kinship with them for a couple of reasons. Like us they have an unlikely, long and hard-to-spell surname, and my father once accidentally wore a coat home from a party that belonged to Charles Sebag-Montefiore. The coat was apparently almost identical to his own but of higher quality and it had a name tape sewn in it!

I went to a very generous company Christmas party on Friday and accidentally wore someone else's coat home. Sadly the surname associated with it is the much more down-to-earth "Smith". They are both black full length wool overcoats with four buttons. They both have a little chain instead of a hanging loop. I didn't realise my mistake until I was at home and started going through the pockets. The coat's real owner thinks they're so different that he didn't even bother to pick mine up.

Richard "blind or drunk – you decide" B

MTV

At the beginning of the 90s a phrase was coined: "If the next song's crap I'm going home". In context it made perfect sense. Satellite television was rare and expensive and only one of our friends had access. We would go to his house and watch "The Simpsons" and MTV (which at the time showed music videos). When it started to get late somebody would announce that "If the next song's crap I'm going home".

The phrase is still in common currency. Last night we were binging on Amazon's "Grand Tour" when one of my friends announced "If the next episode's crap I'm going home".

It reminds me fondly of the very first disagreement I had with one of my girlfriends. On a Saturday morning I used to listen to "Sounds of the 60s" on Radio 2. My girlfriend had stayed over on Friday night and we were still in bed. I said "If the next song’s crap I'll go downstairs and make you breakfast". During the intro to Roy Orbison's "Pretty Woman" - which I think is a good song - she said "Good. I'll have two pieces of toast and a cup of coffee please".

Richard "if the next blog's crap I'm unsubscribing" B

Rose Tinted Spectacles

This weekend I spent several hours in the pub talking nonsense with my friends. One of the things we found that we missed was a better class of thief that existed in the 70s and 80s. When I used to do paper-rounds my bicycle was invaluable to me and at one time my brother gave me a pair of high quality light-alloy pedals. The pedals got stolen - not the bike, just the pedals. The thief must have taken a fancy to them, gone home and got the right sized spanner, and then stolen them while leaving the rest of the bike intact.

Better yet one of my brothers had the fuel tank stolen from his motorbike (a highly desirable Yamaha FS1E). We can't believe that the tank was drained and removed while the bike was outside our house, so the thieves must have taken it away, drained the tank, stolen it, and then pushed the rest of the bike back to where they took it from.

And another thing

When I contract ringworm or lice, or my house is infested with moths or weevils I get nothing but piss taking about living in the wrong century (or a bleak Victorian novel). Now one of my friends has taken to her bed with whooping cough she gets nothing but dignified sympathy. It's discrimination.

Richard "reminiscing isn't what it used to be" B

Re-living the dream

This weekend I was overcome by petty jealousy. When I was younger I used to play electric guitar well, and I used to perform in a band at pubs, weddings and parties. When we were good it was fantastic fun and I still miss it. It sounds implausible when you look at me, but I swear I also used to go out with the sexiest woman on the entire South West peninsular.

On Friday I was in a pub and there was a covers band playing all the songs that we used to play and having the time of their lives. Moreover the chap who fronted the band is the one that my old girlfriend went out with as soon as she'd finished with me. And he's younger than me. And better looking. And he still has a full head of hair. Damn him!

I would like to say that the band was terrible but they weren't, they were moderately good. As is traditional in pub covers bands they were too loud and had pathetic dynamics. They also had atrocious tempo. I practice with a metronome every morning and I know just how shonky my timekeeping is but theirs was embarrassing. At one point I made a vicious, technical and silent heckle. I caught the drummer's eye, picked up an imaginary conductors baton and beat out a steady 4:4 while he wandered miles above and below it.

Richard "calm down, it's all in the past" B

How to File

There are loads of things to read on the internet, but how to use a file doesn't seem to be one of them. Everybody who can really file has been shown how to do it and has had plenty of practice. Like all hand skills it's really done in the brain. It's a surprisingly meditative experience.

The first thing to know is how to hold a file. Both your thumbs are on top and your fingers are curled around underneath. You press down with your thumbs and pull up with your fingers as though you are trying to bend the file. Of course you don't really bend the file but you have to pretend that you are. As best as I can understand it you are putting pre-load on your muscles and tendons so that you don't snatch or jerk them as you move the file.

Stand with your front foot underneath the vice.

• Press the front of the file onto the job and wiggle it around until you are certain that it is flat against the workpiece.
• Clear you mind, for the next couple of seconds there has to be no thought in your head other than pushing the file forwards smoothly and keeping it flat. Try to imagine a point at exactly the same height as the job and push the file smoothly towards it.
• Lift the file up, bring it back and put it down again with the front of the file touching the job. Don't draw the file backwards, the teeth are only strong in the push direction.
• Repeat.

Every few stroke you need to check your work. Have you removed enough material? Have you taken more off at one edge?

Every few dozen strokes you might need to clear swarf (called pins) from the file with a card (a very fine wire brush). If you are filing something soft like aluminium you can discourage the pins from sticking to the file by filling it with ordinary blackboard chalk.

It's impossibly easy to remove material from the edges and much harder to get it from the middle. Only try to file the middle of the job and the edges will happen naturally by accident.

This is what I made, its a 1/2" square drive extension to reach onto the nut on the ball joint between the upper wishbone and the upright on the front suspension of my car.

It's impossible to file something perfectly flat. When I started I was putting a crown on every surface with a radius about like a grapefruit.  Since my brother -who's like a milling machine- gave me this lesson it's somewhere between space-hopper and igloo.

Richard "or just buy one" B