Sunday, February 2, 2014

Bangles and Bicycles.

 

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This is the top of the bangle.

Problem was that the bangle keeps on turning around.

Figures, who ever made this bangle made it to big , so the natural tendency is for the heavier top to “roll” to the bottom

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This pissed Madam off endlessly.

Solution?

Bring it to the  “ He can fix anything guy”

So I was instructed to set the bottom with diamonds.

 

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I dislike wax on my diamonds when I set, so I made a cloth bottomed bowl to keep my stones in.

Works like a charm.

 

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We do some drilling.

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This is two days into the setting.

Frikin’ difficult, because when the bangle was originally made, the top was a comfy 1.5mm thick.

But the bottom was 1mm thick.

But when one makes a bangle like this, the dents are filed out and then the metal went from between 0.8mm to 0.5mm thick.

Simply because there was never any intention to set stones there.

 

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Anyway, good ‘ol “Can fix anything” got it done.

With some serious fiddling and swearing along the way.

She comes on Tuesday to pick it up ------let’s see what happens.

 

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This is a picture of the finished ring of my tutorial I mentioned in the last post.

Nice and neat and dainty.

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Sunday was a great clear day for once.

Cold though, at 8C degrees and a mild breeze blowing.

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The Boss and I.

You got to wear some serious clobber when you cycle in winter.

Thermal under wear, track suit bottom, two long T shirts, a jersey, a jacket, gloves, a beanie and even a scarf sometimes.

This picture was taken at midday, check out the tree shadow.

Thus the Boss’ sunglasses are merely a fashion statement, because the sun shines here at about the same strength as a birthday candle.

Last year during the season we cycled more than 2400 kilometers, which is double of what we drove in our car.

I swear, we just never need to drive a car here.

Not bad though, considering that there is only 6 months of reasonably OK cycling weather here in Europe.

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Cold or not, the Germans come out in force in clear weather.

Was great though, blue skies and all.

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The stories this suitcase could tell.

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Dusseldorf number plate and Saffa sticker.

Don’t see many south africans here in Dusseldorf.

Figures, because not many speak German.

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Sigh, one of my crickets committed suicide.

Some sources tell me  it was a love triangle—again.

Other sources say it was because the lettuce wasn’t fresh enough.

I am thinking of setting up a Help Hotline call center with one of those 800 numbers.

This just can’t go on like this.

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