Following some stern, repetitive and vociferous advice from Mrs TPAS, I have moved my insulator collection out from under her damn feet. I decided not to put them where the sun don’t shine as was her suggestion. Instead, I now have them on the walls of my shed and of course a select few upon my garden pole out of reach of aforementioned fish-wife.
Anyway, I’m not alone in this pursuit – insulator collecting that is. John Paine (#0512) sent us a picture of his telegraph pole (left, below). “Garden ornament thing” he describes it. And he is worried that his collection is going to soon be covered by his good lady wife’s clematis. A taller pole may be in order there John and some accidental weedkiller spillage onto the clematis if I may make so bold.
Regular correspondent to these pages John Cranston (#0620) wrote in to tell us that he’s found the hash key – the one that does the # thing on his computer. It’s Alt + 3 on a Mac apparently. Thanks for that John. My life, whilst still not quite complete with that fascinating information is now a little closer towards that ideal.
Anyway, he went on to make a sexist assumption that the abbreviated poles you see on the right belong to “some bloke” as he put it. “They enliven an otherwise suicide-inducing crawl through bleakest, flattest Lincolnshire” he told us. The sawn-off poles are in the front garden of a house along the A17 about a mile east of the River Welland. One is a GPO, complete with plastic pigeon, and the other looks like it came from a railway, he reckons.
This photo submission he tells us is his effort to counter balance this society’s Cambrian bias.
Thank you Johns.