The workshop is finally empty of machinery, it's all now up in sunny Lincolnshire waiting to be set up in the new workshop in September. I'm back to a very small workshop comprising Myford and a drill - feels like the first workshop again (which was more years ago than I care to remember!). It's a slightly heart-stopping moment when you see your entire workshop dangled from a six-ton hiab before being driven off into the sunset. The truck that came to pick it all up was an impressive bit of kit - the crane, mounted behind the cab, could pick up my Triumph lathe from the ground at the far end. I've used the company before and know the driver - as fast as I could run machines out to the road with the fork truck, he'd got them loaded and strapped down.
This weekend was one of our neighbouring village's fetes - an annual event which is always very well supported. I go along each year as it's the one day that a local man opens his garden railway, a long-established 9 1/2 inch gauge line running through beautiful gardens. The local classic car club turn up, there's an organ playing, a barbecue in one corner and a fine time is had by all.
