Getting the steam “up”
I don’t dance. Heck, with this current cold (that is bound to enter my lungs, it seems) I hardly sing. Missed a big “do” last evening, with a live cover band and everything, and I swear, I am the better for it. Let this pass, before they quarantine me on the outside step of a hospital.
No sense in complaining, right? Around here, everything is holidayed (that’s a word), and there’s a flashy tree in the front room, with an afternoon of musical favourites. Not necessarily MY favourites, but I’m immune to the melodies after a lifetime of exposure. Meanwhile, I’m trying to avoid that long period between the supper hour and the bedtime hour. Perhaps a concatenation is in order. Move over, hound!
Happened to watch a (very long) video on how to “fire up” a steam locomotive. You know, in case I suddenly fall through into the last century. Given that I’ve only seen one or two operating engines in my lifetime, there’s been NO occasion to learn this first hand. And now I know; the first twenty minutes is spent applying oil and grease and other lubrications to every place where there might be metal-to-metal contact. Only when things are slippy do you get to pull (push?) the throttle and slowly glide out into the air. Fresh air, because the firing process is also a smoky situation. Coal. I remember the odour (and not from contact with locomotives). Funny how we can’t forget certain things, despite effort and a serious congestion of the nasal passages.
