Monday, March 16, 2015

Polish and the Baron.

 

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A goldsmith buddy of mine gave me a stick of this polish the other day.

I always like trying out new products.

Especially polish, because no matter how well you finish off a piece of jewellery, the polish can screw it up completely—and easily too.

So when ever I try a new polish I take two weeks of work to check it out.

I have a corner of my supply cupboard that is piled with abandoned polishing soap bars, because most polishes suck.

Sucking includes waxy oily polish.

Is not soap soluble.

Leaves a hard residue.

This one does none of that.

Very quick cutting action, but at a rouge level.

In other words, if you really want to you can take a 220 grit finish and in one fell swoop it’s rouge.

 

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This is admittedly pushing it, but a charged buff makes it go from 220 grit in the middle, to rouge on the right in one firm push.

If you touch the stick once more to the buff and polish at 90º it’s done.

I have used Unipol blue polish for a long time, and it’s a very good .

One thing I tried out is to take my thumb, wet it with dishwashing liquid and then rub it on the bar of polish.

The orange one starts dissolving, and blue one that I have, doesn’t.

The orange one cleans off the piece easily and it figures, because it’s more easily soap soluble.

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I cut some off a bar and put it in a heated brass little dish I had made.

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It doesn’t run like wax though.

You got to press it into shape.

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Like this.

For my hanging motor mandrels on my desk.

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There was this guy with his young ‘teen daughter sitting next to him who parked this Porsche outside the other day.

I refuse to point out the young daughters influence.

She climbs out with dad.

He is wearing a sort of “I fly Aircraft” type scarf.

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With a kind of Manfred von Richthoffen  cap.

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The daughter is wearing camo pants and a Tinker bell type top, so I rest my case.

They were gone for quite a while and people would stop and stare at this car, and discuss the stickers on it.

With bemusement.

And faint distaste.

There were sometimes ten people gathered around the car, complete strangers, all discussing the stickers.

One simply just does NOT do this to a German car of this stature.

Little did they know they all took pictures of a car that depicted  the love of a father for his daughter.

Good father, that one.

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My wife’s calculator.

I also rest my case.

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