Not quite requiring so much of a cheery hearthed welcome was the £9 customs charge, and the £8 the Royal Mail are charging me for the privilege of not bringing the parcel to my door, but there we are. I was half expecting it anyway.
So I can hopefully go and get that and do a bit of stuff with o'er Betty, though of course that was the point when I realised that I haven't got the girl a neck yet, which is a bit of an oversight.
I really must check that though, as I was sure I did have - maybe I've used it, wouldn't be the first of times. I still haven't heard the Mojo Tele P90, of course, so there is a hint of bubbly excitement, I have to admit.
But still, be nice to get closer to finishing something, it seems like forever since the last time.
On the back of such promise, I dug the body out of it's hiding hole, gave it a quick dust and dazzle and I have to say it is a bit of a wow-lit stunner. The walnut burr looks rather gorgeous pretty, and I am loving that it is tattered and torn so that you can see the corroded bronze beneath.
The shaved edge binding (I'm making up meaningless terms to make it sound good, today) also works for me in a big way, and the back is dee and vine. Like a Parisian window as seen by Monet after he'd been on Les Meths. Lovely.
If only the girl had a neck, it would be perfect.
How many times have I said that before?
At least in those Ruby Red Pimpernelistic dreams of teenage.
I know it is sad to get excited about tiny little small steps such as this, but there we are.
La la laaa
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