Listers,
after reading the literary enlightenment of Mr. Shakespeare earlier on
this list, it is clear that you spitters are in need of some real
entertainment from a live person, a fellow spitter-lady who is trying to
learn the ropes, and lives to write about it.
By now, you all must be aware of the fact that she really lost it, so
here is further proof of that fact.
Enjoy.
The apprentice
We went to the library this afternoon and brought back books on Classic
British Cars. Big Mistake. Im now told in a quiet but firm voice, that
the names of the marques Jaguar E series or Morgans are not to be
mentioned any more. The house will not be mortgaged, and hints about a
second or night -time job will be ignored. I offered that, maybe, I
could sell my body for high prices, which resulted in a laugh and the
comment: Youre over the hill, honey, they wont be paying you that
much. Im crushed. With a last attempt I suggest plastic surgery, a
tuck here, a nip there. He just laughed. Rats. Its tough when you are
over fifty. In a further attempt to quiet me down, I was handed a dust
mask, and I was told to start sanding the valance. Let the restoration
process of the Spitfire begin.
Yes, I was formally appointed first apprentice in the Haasper
restoration facility. I had vowed to the Firefly that I would restore
her beauty, and I always keep my promises. I have to learn from the
bottom up, I have to follow orders, and do what Im told. This will be a
hard job for me. I usually do things my own way, have my own ideas. But
for the betterment of the little British car. I will do my best.
Yesterday I had applied the polyester resin to the aged looking valance
in a very creative manner. Having a good eye for balance and beauty, I
slapped the stuff on with grace. I had to hold back not to get too
creative. This was a medium I had not worked with before. One can create
interesting patterns. Then the boss told me that all the extra resin has
to be sanded to a smooth surface. I quickly scraped of the little
ornaments I had created. I was told that the job was acceptable. Today I
was ordered, to sand the valance down, make it smooth as a babies
behind. I was armed with a stack of sandpaper and very eager to get
started. The restoration process was in full swing. It didnt take me
long to find out that wearing gloves is not possible on this job. One
has to feel the smoothness of the metal, the minute differences and
details in the structure of the resin. So I feel the surface, I sand, I
sand again, I feel, and stare at the dust, I sand some more, as the
clock ticks ever so slowly. Once in a while the boss looks over my
shoulder, points to an area that I had considered already finished,
nods knowingly. I carry on. Oh, its a rough life for a want- to be
body repair lady. These once perfectly manicured fingernails, that
gently used to caress the strings of a classic guitar, are now working
themselves to the bone on polyester resin. The table in front of me, the
walls, in fact the whole world around me, is slowly taking on the shape
of the white sands desert in New Mexico, and Im just another lump in
the unreal moonscape, I blend right into the dusty white surroundings.
I grab an automotive mirror thats lying on the work bench. It cant be
true. Im horrified, its Madam Butterfly from the Metropolitan Opera
House looking back at me. But, instead of a beautiful Kimono, she is
wearing a relic of a sweat-shirt sporting prancing horses and the poetic
words Happy trails to you. Her hair is not of a beautiful black
colour, its prematurely white. Bright blue eyes, accentuated by white
eyelashes, are staring back at me, the make-up, much too white for my
complexion. As Im gazing with shock at the new me, I hear laughter
echoing from the other side of the garage: Honey you look good! Now
there is a change. There is hope after all. Is this what a girl has to
do to get some appreciation around here? He destroys it all and calls:
Youre not finished on that piece, see the ridge over there, carry on,
get to it. Then the challenging question are you sticking this out, or
are you giving up on the piece? He knows that those are words that
will make my adrenaline flow. A good soldier never gives up! I go and
make the horses prance again through the dust of the white sands, but
Im learning. The valance is finished soon.
I will primer it in the morning, after the dust has settled.
I leave the clean-up to the expert and walk away like pig- pen from the
peanuts cartoon. With every move I make dust rises from my body, floats
around me like a cloud and then slowly drifts to the floor. But there is
pride in my heart, Im doing this for the little lady in red, my little
Spitfire.
And, as for the little matter of the Jag. or the Morgan, I think Ill
put plan B. into motion.
Liv Haasper
Apprentice
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