Found a nice chap in Germany who makes, at a reasonable price, 700mm blades to fit my antique frame saw. Can you see how almost half of the old blade has been sharpened away? I never guessed it was a metric import. I bought the crosscut, rip, and Farmers flavours. Didn’t get the Japanese one because it can’t be sharpened, though it’s nice to know it exists. I’m hoping to use this for ripping small boards, like those in the recent casket. It has less kerf than the bandsaw and needs more skill. I’m hoping the farmer’s blade will also be an improvement upon my modern bow-saw which has a narrow blade that produces untidy firewood.
Guilt-free Saturday, today, so enjoying watching the wind and the rain. The waterfalls, opposite, are rumbling louder than the traffic. I’d forgotten that they do that after heavy rain so their strange noise has kept me awake, puzzling, for a few nights. I had blamed the neighbours’ fridge, the blood in my ears, the wind turbines, the leaky canal locks and the railway tunnel until I remembered the same confusion, at the same time of year, just after I arrived here. Does summer rain consist of lighter water? It was so loud, this morning, that I could hear it outside and get a directional fix.
A similar hum, in my first flat in Sydney. only bothered me when my head rested on my pillow. After a few nights, I got into the car at 1am, very cheesed off, and drove around until I discovered a gas tanker unloading in the next bay: a remnant of the suburb’s industrial past. The flat had to go, of course, but I always wonder why no-one else complained of hearing the noise. There were hundreds of houses closer than me. Perhaps the steel frame of the flats focused the tone onto my bed.