Saturday was a big night out. It seems that a combination of the following activities is a perfect preparation for fixing the air-conditioning on a Saab for someone who has no experience of such things. ( Maybe I have frozen off some of my fingers with 1,1,2,2-tetrafluoroethane R134 -I can’t really feel much after last night. And I’m sure my compressor will lock up with sludge soon. But there was cold air coming from the blowers, however briefly. I claim this success, however ephemeral, in the name of King George and for the nation of Loughborough)
Things I remember as essential air-conditioning repair preparation: Chardonnay, freaks in spandex (including a chance to meet Captain Phallus), the screaming massacre of 70 pounds of live crayfish, a kebab, fires, egg-shell and shotgun pellet percussion, Dry Blackthorn, learning the two-step, fires moving about on strings and sticks, being glittered, a big red machine (a truck rather than wrestler), forgetting the two-step, meeting and correctly identifying Chitlin, joining a kingdom and rejoicing, looking at my watch and realising it was past 5am, wandering around 6th and Lamar at about 8am unable to correctly identify the car that I was getting a ride home in, despite it having a superhero and a pagan-type in the front of it, and breakfast. And there were some stern librarians poking people with rulers.
