Out into the light. 2

 Greetings. It is 'I'. Albert C. Let me finish the tale of Norman ooowooo's release from the cellar. There's no reason to suspect he didn't enjoy his time 'Darn tha' coal 'ole. Plenty warm enough, what with Mum running the heating flat out during the winter months. The radiator pipework distributing boiling water inches just above his head. Cosy as toasty.  But...the time is nigh, Norman ooowooo you are at this very moment the star of the show. 

I'm gonna get ya oilyragged, source some parts that look late 50's period  and get ya presented in front of 'The Committee'. Aye, the big powers that be.....head cheese's at D.V.L.A. Those that have the say in whether or not ya a genuine enough looker to get replacement registration documents. (Original papers lost in time before we knew ya, along with any detail of what your number was.) 

Having no old documents that place our Norm in time or place means he will be reassigned an alternative number. A period number relevant to his age. That's ok by me. If there was trace of the old registration number on him then archive searching through County Registration records may find clues but quite often it's just adding 'fookin about for no reason' to the job.

First..a need to look complete and ready for the road. Then pictures of frame number, engine number, both side pictures will get the paperwork trail kicked off. Sending them along with the required fee to an approved organisation will hopefully get a date of manufacture certificate.  That's what I'm gonna do.....but....Hang on ! wi not up the steps yet.....Crack on Alb..

This is remining me of TV vet programmes....Ya know the ones where the farmer has to get reet darn't birth canal to help wee bairn oot...  here's oor Norm coming up the passage wi a bit of help from mi'self.  Ready ta pop oot inta't leet. Blimey, with al't pushin' 'n' shovin' it's makin' me write in Skirtish?  No way....I'm from 'The Shire' Yorkshireshireshire. Ya'll never take that ar't of mi.

Here's Norman ooowooo fresh up then ther' steps. Paintwork shining in the light. It's now time for home old chap, a good looking over and let's see what's needy.

Keep looking in, checkin' on progress and of course a few of ya Uncle Albert's diary thoughts thrown in for good measure.  T.T.F.N.

Out into the light.

 Albert Crackleport here. You may have read my blogs before.  Consisting of diary notes detailing my various mechanical projects and equally promoting Vintafaking, shed engineering and relentlessly trying to open the eyes of the younger generation to life beyond mobile phones. The ramblings of a guy going slowly mad? Possibly in years to come I will be proven right. If not hey, I tried!

Here's the start of another adventure.  The Norman-ooowooo blogspot is about a small motorcycle that has been in storage for years and years. You will gather from the title of the blog it is a Norman, a Model D to be precise.. At this point I dont know the year of manufacture but I can tell you it has been in our family for possibly 50 years. Think Dad got it for free!. In all that time it hasn't deteriorated...honest !!! but it hasn't improved either. Poor little fellow, he deserves better... Have I enough life left to right the wrong. Will Norman ride the roads of Blighty again. (I'll do my best) Will he be scared of the traffic (probably). Will a health plume of blue smoke follow him where'er he goes? (hope so). What's with the ooowooo? Norman has been sleeping in mums cellar, indeed he's been resident down below for the whole 50 years. Whenever I mention Norman my mums bursts into song. 'Norman my love' is the title. Sung by Susan Maughan in 1963.. So, there you have it, Norman ooowooo he is and will forever be.

Here's the link to 'Norman my love' Be prepared..once heard never forgotten ooowooo 

So, on with the mission to extract Norman ooowooo from the afore mentioned cellar. Possibly of interest but only for the select few to know, the cellar entrance is through the 'coal 'ole'. Coal 'ole' is dialect from the 'Shire' but a small storage place for the coal when all houses were heated by the black stuff. My job for pocket money was to make sure the coal skuttle was always full, yep, out into the snow for a refill no let up during the cold winter evenings.. Times wer' tougher then. Come the 1970's and natural gas became the heating fuel. The 'Coal 'ole' was redundant. Using it as an entrance Dad dug down under the house to create the extra space to create a workshop (the Myford was under the lounge).  Acro props holding the house up whilst he rebuilt the footings. Still standing so hey....job was a good 'un. Now the entrance is blocked with an old drawer set and pots of paint as additional camouflage, don't want nosey boiler repair men or meter readers to be eyeing the treasure still stored below. When Dad passed Mum wanted it filling in, I filled the cellar back to the original level but the entrance I didn't block....Blimey where would Norman have lived?

First job, remove camouflage.

The cobweb hermatic seal will have to be broken....Just like entering the Tomb of Tutankamun. There's gold below....

 The lights still work...Behold there be Norman ooowooo.

Hang on, the rescue party is here....

Stay tuned....Albert over and out.