Slotting the wheels in

I like being able to slot parts of a kit together without glue. In this case, the glass-filled nylon solebars and axleboxes can be slid into the floor with a little bit of a wiggle. Handy, as there has been a change to slate wagon kit since it was introduced. 

Original kits were designed to take finescale wheelsets. Now, a set of 16mm Association standard wheels are included, and these are slightly different. 

No problem, the modeller just needs to remove some plastic from the inner solebar. The photo in the instructions isn't that clear, and neither is the view above, but hopefully, this will help. 

I started with a coarse half-round file, and then carved away with a sharp knife. The plastic cuts easily, and I quickly removed the material. Probably too much if I'm honest, but we don't want to risk the wheels rubbing on anything. 

Once done, the solebars and wheels go back in. A quick check to ensure the chassis sits flat on a mirror, and then lashings of Plastic Weld, hold it all in place.  

Binnie slate wagon

 

Here it is. The kit that launched the Binnie empire. Moulded in ABS, and glass-filled nylon, a kit for the Ffestiniog 2-ton slate wagon. 

Reintroducing this kit has involved 40-year-old moulds and many burnt fingers from the manufacturer. As a piece of history, I felt that with my Garden Rail Editor jacket on, I ought to buy one and have a go. Despite being a limited-production kit, my parcel arrived in under a week, so I'm putting the canal boat aside for a couple of days to put the thing together. 

The instructions say "Trimming of flash will be required before assembly" - a legacy of those old moulds. My photo shows the worst bit, the one that would show up on camera best, and indeed, the first job is to clean things up. I don't think this is any worse than kits in the old days. Modern plastic manufacture means we rarely see excess material, but once upon a time, modellers just took it in their stride. 

A sharp scalpel blade and an abrasive stick took care of the worst of it, so I could move on to assembly. 

Meet Wilfred

 

 

I love "Art in the Park". The beautiful, if somewhat yellow, Jephson Gardens, are filled with stalls. Each of those stalls is manned by an artist selling their wares. All the hand-made creativity you could want, in a small(ish, it's getting bigger) space in Leamington Spa. 

Now, I know it's possible to spend a lot of money here. There is everything from ridiculously cheap cards (I stock up for Christmas) to serious paintings and sculpture costing well into four figures. I'm not in that market, but I do have a modest budget I'm willing to spend each year, as regular readers will know. 

There is also weird food on offer. My rule is that I should try something new each time, and this year I scoffed street food glazed duck. From a stand with a particularly muscular lucky cat. 

OK, dessert was (again) the toastie version of millionaire's shortbread from Jabberwocky, but it's sooooo nice. 

The weather was on the side of the organisers. Dry, sunny, but not quite as hot as it has been recently. The crowds were out in force, I just hope the artists did well. Standing there all day with everyone judging your efforts isn't going to be easy. You have to keep smiling, even when they are just tyre-kicking. 

Anyway, I blew a small part of my budget on a little creature that leapt out at me from the Clay Pidgin stand. My usual method of doing this event is to go around twice. Anything that has stuck in my head by the second visit, is a contender for my cash. Not this time though, Christina Callaghan was setting up and I dived in. No idea why, I just liked it. 

Wilfred, as a friend has named him, is a porcelain figure with several different glazes. The comb and lips are smooth, the rest textured. I think there is a hint of SuperLambanana about him. Apart from that, I really don't know why I like this little figure, but I do, and that's all art needs. Maybe it's a little bit mad, but then so am I. 
 

Saturday Film Club: Static Grass - The shocking difference!

Some wise advice from my good self, all hidden behind a thumbnail chosen by one of my rotten colleagues! I will get my own back...

Sea Lion painting

OK, I'm a sucker for one particular Groudle Glen Railway engine. When I saw this painting of the best steam engine in the world on eBay, I managed to resist, for a couple of weeks. Week three, and £25 later, it was mine. 

The watercolour may be slightly "naive", as the art world might say, but there is a lot right about it. The proportions of the loco, and the perspective for a start. Distorted round parts are a mark of the less-than-able artist painting or drawing a steam engine. OK, hiding the wheels helps, but I don't think artist John Beckett has done a bad job. At least the rivet counters will have fun with the bufferbeam! I'm pretty sure the scene is near Lime Kiln Halt too, where a track comes down off the hillside. 

I can't find anything about Mr Beckett online, so I'm guessing he's a talented amateur rather than an important, named artist. To me, this doesn't matter if I like what he has produced, and I do. 

At 42cm x 34cm, and very nicely framed (the price is worth it for the frame alone), should I ever own somewhere suitable to hang it, at least finding wall space won't be too much of an issue.