It's my practice each December to have a few old friends round for a reunion-cum-booze-up, usually towards the early part of the month, before the full horror of the Festive Season strikes in earnest. Usually the form is a Friday night spent munching the take-aways of our choice, and washing it down with the varied tipples that the visitors have brought along.
The following Saturday morning is usually marked only by a distinct lack of activity as various bodies sleep off the effects of the previous nights various excesses.
This Saturday morning was notable in that from a (relatively) early hour there was a whirring of circular saws and a thumping of hammers;
'Bloody Neighbours' Thinks I and returns to slumber.
When I eventually padded downstairs, some time close to midday I found that I had unfairly maligned my dear streetmates.
In fact Brother Nick had been the cause of the commotion, his urge to tinker leading him to knock up a little battery box out of some old Plywood and mount it cunningly with Zip ties in the valley of the upper frame tube and seat tube.
Yes! The eagerly awaited culmination of the 'Mark Two Ignition System'