BSC

 

It’s our fourth anniversary: four mostly happy years together. Well she won’t have been happy about the number of times I have thumped her into brick walls and I wasn’t happy when she deposited a lot of water on the carpet and I have to admit that on cold dark winter days I have wanted to leave her for a centrally heated semi-detached house.  Yet on balance they have been four relatively harmonious years.

Four years together means that the BSC is due and the realisation that I haven’t looked after her as well as she deserves to be looked after.  She isn’t going to fail because the gunwales need painting or I haven’t moped that puddle in the engine bay or the brasswork doesn’t gleam but she will fail because I’ve broken the glass on the stove (yet again) and a couple of the gas taps are sticking. 

I buy a new piece of glass for the stove.  I buy the wrong size. I can’t get the screws on the gas hob undone.  She’s not going to pass. I have a cunning plan. I will make a large pot off paella over my brazier and I will get some beer in and ask a couple of guests to join me, the sort of guests who will do anything for food and beer and are likely to have glass cutters and tool-kits.

The plan worked, gas fitments cleaned, glass in fire door fitted, so the next morning when the Inspector called I thought I was sorted.  I wasn’t of course, it appeared I needed straps on my batteries (why?) a clip on my fuel pipe, rope around the lower fire door (forgot to look at that one) and I had a small gas leak (somewhere).  The Mechanical Magician sprang into action and fixed straps and clips and I went along the mooring to blag some fire-proof rope and glue and by the time we’d done that the small gas leak had cured itself.

So we’ve got the certificate and now are ready to spend the next four years together. I’m looking forward to it but although she doesn’t say so I think Rea is looking into the future with some trepidation.