I am the grit in the gears, the missing bolt, I am the poker of sticks into spokes.
I like to know how things work, but sometimes when I take them apart and rebuild them, I have a few pieces left over.
I am a man, so I tend to leave reading the instructions until after it goes wrong.
And like all men I have a comprehensive mental map of the world and never need to ask directions.
I never get lost, only sometimes I'm late, or end up in the wrong place entirely.
It's what we do.
I've got two scanners, though they're rarely used. But re-commissioning the computer after disc-fail, led to me noticing that I had all this stuff sitting idle, and I've got piles of stuff.... Like these cartoons, by "Cull". My great-uncle Walter worked with Cull, they were both draughtsmen, with the air-ministry, drawing blueprints during the war and throughout the fifties, when I was little, littler than I am now, anyway, visits to Uncle Walter and Auntie Sybil were ofter spent drawing. Walter had an endless supply of drawing paper, mostly of wing-root design on top secret v-bombers, or engine details of delta-wing supersonic fighters.
The Russians would have found a jackpot if they'd ever turned our childish drawings over to see the back.
I drew aircraft, my sister drew horses. She still draws horses, and makes money doing so.
Cull drew wing-roots. And the people he worked with, and mystery buxom cuties. Here's Walt, mesmerised by a buxom cutie in uniform....