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.
