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Gorby

Gold Member
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Gorby last won the day on November 9 2018

Gorby had the most liked content!

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About Gorby

  • Rank
    I don't suffer from insanity, I quite enjoy it really.

Profile Information

  • Gender
    Male
  • Location
    Coventry - no need to send me, I'm already there.
  • Interests
    Scratching that itch.

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4,089 profile views
  1. I'm not sure how you do yours, but I use Gimp and just reduce the image width (or height if it's a portrait photo) to 160mm which seem to get the image to a reasonable size (no ones complained yet).
  2. A good few years ago my step-son bought a grossly overpriced gaming mouse and the perspex case was part of the packaging.It's made from 2.5mm thick, very rigid, clear plastic and is ideal – and best of all, it was FREE! I don't like decals so whenever possible I cut masks instead – the decal or whatever I'm copying, is taped face up, to a thin sheet of clear plastic (from food packaging normally) and then the masking tape on the top. Usually I cover the space that I'm not working on with paper so that I'm not staring intently into a very bright LED bulb: Then it's down to how steady your hand is to cut them out. I'd love one of those silhouette cutting thingies, but until the price comes down I'll carry on doing it this way.
  3. I get that sometimes. Very uncomfortable. Nowt wrong with that lot Pete - they all deserve a thread of their own. Your Sabre is definitely the star of the show in my books.
  4. It may be an idea to change your title to 'life' rather then 'left'.
  5. Just as well I'm less of a perfectionist. I'm interested to find how your tiny balls fare. Would you need to drill all the way though? I would have thought that just drilling a shallow dimple into the plastic would be enough.
  6. I agree, excellent psycho fish. I built my fish out of milliput and then the frame from metal tube and the top spinny bit from four PE control levers. Don't for get there should be a dial on the inside facing toward the cockpit. I use the info from the WNW site.
  7. Gorby

    Those Lockdown Blues

    Get this: As a new doctor my step daughter gets moved to different hospitals in the area and she's due to finish her stint at Warwick to move to Cov hospital. In preparation for the move she's had to fill out a risk assessment. Cov have told her that as she has asthma, she won't be treating Covid patients even though she's been the designated Covid doctor at Warwick since the start of the outbreak. Make sense to you? I was ill a couple of weeks ago. I felt a bit grotty for about four days and very grotty for a couple of days. The only symptom that came close to bat-plague was a dodgy throat and a bit of a cough so I assumed it was some other nasty little bug. But since then I've felt completely poleaxed by fatigue which has even affected my participation on this site – I just don't have the energy. I've had energy problems for years and usually referred to it a 'excessive fatigue' because it was only something that only partially affected my day to day life, but now I would say it's more chronic fatigue. A few days ago I hoovered one room and needed to sleep nearly an hour to recover. My step-daughter has said that on balance of probabilities, it is possible that it may have been Covid – obviously I won't know for sure until the test is available to everyone. Apparently a significant minority of Covid cases have symptoms that are different to those that we normally associate with it. If it was the virus, I must have got it from a delivery as I've only been out to walk the dog and don't go anywhere near other people on the walks. Keep safe.
  8. Gorby

    ThumbSnap

    I've not used Thumbsnap before and would be interested to know how it goes if you use it. I've just read the terms of service and I can't help wondering if there is some sort of catch as it sounds too good to be true. There are plenty of other photo hosts if you decide against Thumbsnap:
  9. Swings and roundabouts, swings and roundabouts (oh dear I'm feeling slightly dizzy now). Yours suggests increasing alcohol intake, whereas mine suggests a reduction, so any chance of a swap? That's just as well cus I'm not going. The attempt to 'off' me with the plague of extreme battyness wasn't successful. They'll have to use the sniper next time. Think yourself fortunate that you only need to read it once. No proof readers will come within a mile of the house so I have to read it several times. That's got me worried now, but thanks for warning me . I'll have to keep a look out to see if he emerges from behind the whopper. I'll be ready when he does (really to run screaming from the room). That's why you should read it, because time will drag, don't forget that time flies when your having fun, so the opposite is true as well – I'm making you feel like your living longer.
  10. Aaaaaanyw… oh, I've already done that bit... Remember when your granddad sat you down and said “There's more than one way to skin a whopper.” and you making a mental note to to see if the loony bin had any free rooms? No, neither do I. In order to rivet my whopper, I need to cover every external surface with pimply skin. In total it took a sheet and a half of 0.25mm and about a week with the riveter/pimpleiser I showed in a previous post, which held up well to the physical (and occasionally verbal) abuse. I restrained my natural sadism and decided not to bore you with loads of photos of rectangular bits of plastic (regretting that already). Instead I'll do a 'TOP TIP!!!!!' TOP TIP! Assume for a moment, that you've been kidnapped and transported back in time to the dark distant days of BC (Before Calculator). Then assume that you're held at gunpoint and forced to divide a line into equal units. Something I'm sure that's been keeping you awake at night with worry – the age old primal fear. Fret no longer, I have the solution: Use a compass to mark the correct number of spaces on the diagonal line. You should use set squares, but due to not being a twentieth-century draughtsman or school boy, there doesn't seem to be any need for them in my life these days. Instead, use the rule to draw a line from the end of the line your dividing to the last point on the diagonal line, then move the rule to draw parallel lines from the diagonal line. You may not have learnt anything useful, but at least I finally got the chance to bore the pants of you. A quick assemble gets us to this point: Those who aren't turning away from their screens in horror, may have noticed a new addition that isn't shown on the original side view diagram. Why is the TbloNeTUsDesc© such a pile of rubbish? This thing had two steam engines and yet the description doesn't even mention a major thing mobile steam engines need. Where was the chimney/smokestack and what did it look like? Don't look at me, I don't know. Originally I was just going to have two pipes sticking out the back end, but after some discussion with a member on another site, I tried sticky-up ones in a place where there was already a blind spot for the rear turret due to the wheels: They didn't look right. Using the power of logic and attempting to summon the sacred power of lists: In favour of sticky-up ones: Simple to make. Against sticky-up ones: Very vulnerable to enemy fire. Ejecting smoke high in the air would make it EVEN more noticeable from a distance, if such a thing is possible. More importantly, I think they look silly. Okay, okay, I'm well aware the whole contraption looks ludicrous. After spending too much of my precious lockdown time mulling this over, I went for this: And a closer view of the panels with the chimneys temporarily in place: Because: They would be protected by the wheels The smoke is more likely to be broken up by the rotation of the wheels. More importantly, this isn't a bloody Mississippi paddle steamer! As the whopper's designer is more madman than genius, I feel we have common ground and I can confidently state that this is what they would have done (just try proving me wrong). The bends are angled segments, reinforced with super glue smeared inside. If you've been paying attention, you'll remember that the whopper was supposed to be used in a desert. Imagine if you will, being stuck in a sealed metal box with two steam engines, in scorching heat. It'd be hotter than wearing a vindaloo infused jockstrap on a summers day in hell. Surely there would have been some way of venting that heat. Now that I feel a close connection with the mentally unbalanced designer, I chose to add two vents in the roof. This causes a problem – I could cut holes in the roof, but the inside the back bit is just plain white and not detailed; or I could just paint the roof under the vent black, although it's unlikely to look black enough to look like a deep void. Cue quirky experiment. Obviously I'll be using velvet* for the floor to ceiling swag curtains in the whoppers ballroom, I've also nabbed two tiny bits to put under the vent grid in the hope that it's going to look blacker than the blackest black. This is one of the vents part built: * The velvet was cut from one of my step daughters dresses and yes it was one she'd discarded. My mouth may give people the impression that I have a death wish, but that's only because I have little to no control over it. It's the black velvet dress I use for my photo shoots. Eeerm , I mean it the one I use as a backdrop to my RFI photo shoots. Does the velvet make it look blacker than the blackest black I hear you ask? No idea… yet. I masked the vent before it was fitted over the velvet so I haven't seen what it looks like and the mask won't be removed until the end. There's not point begging me. Even if the queen asked “ere me old dutch, bung'ya arf a monkey t' give us a ganders”, I'd have to stand my ground and reply “Gor blimey, leave it out Liz. Don't cum the mutt and Jeff wiv me guvna, sling your hook and no mistakin. An stick ya bisected simian where sun don't shine”. You have to be forceful with these Cockneys and speak to them in their own language (I wonder what's happened to that knighthood?). Next up… probably a lot more pointless waffle. Just a guess.
  11. WARNING: This post is a modelling free zone. Feel free to write an angry letter of complaint to: Mike: care of Britmodeller, Englandshire, Britlandia. I've got another truck load of fetid prose that I need to offload somewhere. Which is a little odd as I haven't been much in the mood for writing lately as I was ill for a week, but I've managed to produce a great stinking pile all the same. Not sure if it was the bat-plague as there was only the faintest flavour of bat. My personal physician (ah yes, that sounds much more pompous than 'step daughter') thinks that bat-plague is the most likely possibility, even though I explained that there was barely a soupçon of vampire. God knows how I picked up the nasty little bug as I haven't been anywhere other than the park. It's left me feeling so weak it's just as well I'm not allowed to roam the streets as I'd be in danger of being beaten up by the neighbours kitten. I do like kittens, but unfortunately they usually end up becoming cats. I'm pretty sure that's how they came up with the idea for the film 'Gremlins'. Take care not to get your kitten wet, and NEVER feed it after midnight or it might turn into a cat. You've been warned! My head has been as woolly as a feral sheep in an Aran sweater, meaning my writing hasn't been up to the usual stellar quality (why are you laughing, that bit wasn't supposed to be funny). Typical isn't it, feeling weak and I'm doing the heaviest model I've ever built. It's currently 521 grams (18.4 oz) which is just under half the 150 ton scale weight. Some bugger's used the lead that I didn't use in the model and filled my legs while I was sleeping, making me feel like I'm the 150 ton field monitor. Perhaps I'm experiencing 'method modelling'. Mind you it's transformed prime DIY time into additional modelling time so not all bad. Playing 'guess the day' is getting a bit boring now, particularly as I'm so bad at it. A couple of days ago I got the month wrong. In the dementia test, I know that they ask what year it is and I'm concerned that I may have to do some serious revision if I want to get that one correct. If Mrs Gorby gets a whiff that my faculties are on the way out she may think I'm beginning to be more of a burden. My favourite brother in law is called Tony (I have FIVE brother in laws. Two I actually like; one I can take or leave; one I try to avoid; and one (who is also called Tony) I would happily drop into an active volcano). The good Tony loves doing DIY and really likes decorating (very strange) and endeavours one day, to cross the final job off his 'to do' list. I think that's a bad idea. If there are no potential jobs, you go from being an asset to being a liability and they start to wonder if you ever did match the décor. This is why I heroically strive to avoid crossing too many things of my list, not because I'm bone idle (bones are really idle, I know skeletons that haven't worked a day in their death) it's just common sense. I'm starting to wake up each morning wondering if society has gone feral, but living in Coventry how would I know the difference? Week … erm, something of the lockdown (are we still locked down?) and I've ceased to care what bloody number it is now. Food has never really been a big thing with us, but now she's a tiny bit obsessed, not only with food, also keeping track of the food. The food list has become sacrosanct. If it wasn't for the fact that she does most of the cooking, she would currently be labouring under the impression that I'm living on half a pizza each week, as I keep forgetting to amend the master list of 'All edible things'. Each time she discovers my sacrilegious lack of dedication to the master list (all praise to the master list) I get 'That look' (you know the one I mean, the one that mothers secretly teach daughters at a very young age) and I'm starting to wonder if the only reason for the existence of the list, is so that she can give me 'That look' even more than normal. I blame my memory, although real reason is that it takes longer for me find the item on the list (all praise to the master list) than it does to cook and eat it. There's no point having a stroke if you don't use it to your advantage…. “I forgot, damn my damn, damnable memory” ….. “If only I wasn't sooooo fatigued” … “Normally I'd be happy to talk to your brother, but my brain is ordering me to throw him into an active volcano” you get the idea. She's not happy with me desecrating the list (all praise to the master list) and has crossed off my addition of 'Yappy-rats x 3', not due to any moral reason, but purely because they aren't already in the freezer. I've taken in upon myself to atone for my sins by getting my act together and searching out new sources of edibleness. During my state-sanctioned daily exercise of taking the dog for a walk, whether she wants to or not (bloody lazy dog) I've been checking out the foraging potential of the local park. If I can't find any recipes for grass marinated in canine urine, it looks like we're going to starve. Although I'd happily make the effort to get used to the taste of pee, if the only alternative was Typhoo tea (Oh that rhymes, perhaps they might want to use it as their jingle “I'd rather drink pee than Typhoo tea”. I foresee a glittering career in advertising - just not for me). I'm particularly concerned as the stash that matters is in terminal decline: (The Old Tom isn't socially distancing – that just how cats are. I much prefer dogs to cats. Owning a dog is like living with your own fanatical fan-club/obsessive stalker. Cats are creatures that are just biding their time, waiting for the day when they can finally eat your face – whether you've finished with it or not.) A few years ago, I once accidentally saw a tiny bit of a Ray Mears program fleetingly out of the corner of my eye, so you would think that I now have all the knowledge I need to survive on a desert island (although frankly, dessert island would be my preferred destination). To date I've searched every nook and cranny of the golf course and I haven't even found where the chocolate grows! I thought I'd found a chocolate log, but I was very, very disappointed. The texture was passable, but the taste wasn't great, I'll have to see if I can find one that's less ripe next time. And those wild Twiglets don't taste as nice as the domesticated ones. Having said all that, the house is currently busting at the seams with food and last week two packages arrived from Amazon (I don't know why she keeps buying stuff from South America). One contained a bumper pack of chocolate bars for me and the one for Mrs Gorby contained evil. Take a long expired geriatric slug, dress it in a rubber cat-suit, feed on all manner of nastiness, dip in tar and leave in the sun for far too long – I'm pretty sure that's the process for making liquorice. They can't bury, burn or dump at sea for fear of harming the environment and thereby getting the greenies on their back, so some sick, twisted soul came up with the idea of selling it as 'food', to those that lack common decency. Incidentally Mrs Gorby prefers the black nastiness to chocolate, she's weird (although by now, you may dispute my my authority on pronouncing someone else 'weird'). Aaaaaanyway… keeping a load of oldies - no offence (apparently if I say “no offence”, you aren't allowed to be offended – that's the rules) amused during the pandemic* isn't a good enough reason for this thread, apparently I have to look like I'm doing something else as well, so stay tuned. * For my dedicated work in this regard I've awarded myself the title of 'Key Shirker'. I'm doing my bit (whether you want me to or not). I expect to be offered some sort of honour for my services to scratching AND my dedication to the mentally infirm - no offence (a knighthood seems like a reasonable reward). Obviously I'll reject the the first offer, and say that there are others more deserving (but only fractionally more deserving), but when those meagre few are fully honoured up, I'm ready to accept the title of Sir Gorbs. As we're friends, you can just call me 'Sir'. Feel free to start whenever (although sooner might be good). Ahhhhhhhhh, that was a relief to offload that one.
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