Shed picture #1

As I stand in my shed smoking a big cigar I see my spanners, cold, covered in old grease but always faithful. An odd assortment collected together through many campaigns. Some of them were my dads, stolen when I was a punk kid trying to keep my crappy jap bikes on the road. Back then, of course they had no sentimental value; I just pinched them hoping he wouldn't notice. He didn't. Others were obtained through other dubious means no doubt, some I think I even bought. I have learnt, through using them, mechanics enough to keep my current stable functional. It's too cold in here now to even contemplate turning a spanner on a bike so I just stand here smoking and musing on what these slugs of metal mean to me. They're my tools and I love them.