Bafflement!

I get baffled, do you?

I try to understand how things work and always have done; as a child I was constantly picking up anything that was lying in the gutter or on the pavement or anything washed up on the beach.

If it was money I either pocketed it if it was a few coins, a farthing, a penny, a halfpenny, a shilling and even a half-a-crown, but if it was a note I was a good boy and took it to the local police station and told them where and when I found it.

I became well known at the cop-shop and the desk sergeant always greeted me, “Whacha got t’day Cess?” was his usual greeting, as I dived into my shoulder bag and handed him some expensive looking item, like a watch, I’d found on the beach.

Anything that looked like part of a machine or something electrical always fascinated me and I kept it for further inspection.

It would go into my Grandad’s workshop and it was there I’d attempt to dismantle it and fathom out its inner workings. Back in the nineteen-fifties there was a lot of junk lying on the beach. After a heavy storm was the best time to go collecting as the violent waves cast many a large item onto the sand.

Today it’s plastic and more plastic!

I once found what today you’d call an out-board motor, probably from an old dingy, it was too heavy for me to lift, so I dragged it up the beach as far as I could, before I scuttled off to Sergeant Ramsbottom at the cop-shop.

It turned out after a bit of detective work by the Plain-Clothes-Fuzz, that the motor was from the local life-boat station at Fleetwood and I got my first mention in the local rag, the Blackpool Evening Gazette. They didn’t let me keep it because their mechanic said it could be repaired. But it did get me interested in the inner workings of motors.

I side-track for a while and offer a bit of information I have gleaned from Wikipedia.

Wikipedia tells me that in maritime law flotsam, jetsam, lagan, and derelict are specific kinds of shipwreck. The words have specific nautical meanings, with legal consequences in the law of admiralty and marine salvage. A shipwreck is defined as the remains of a ship that has been wrecked, a destroyed ship at sea, whether it be sunken or floating on the surface of the water.

It goes on to say that the Law of Salvage has its origins in the Roman practice of “negotiorum gestio”, which dictated that one who preserved or improved upon the property of another, was owed compensation from the owner, even if the service was not requested by the latter. The law did not apply to maritime regulations, but were the basis for following ordinances, such as the Marine Ordinance of Trani, which stated, that a "finder" was to be rewarded, whether the owner claimed the goods or not.

The laws have evolved since “negotiiorum gestio”, and today, in the United States, a salvor who voluntarily brings the goods back into port may legally lay claim to them, or deliver them to a marshal, in return for a reward.

Had I known that then, that in terms of maritime law, the definition of flotsam pertains to goods that are floating on the surface of the water as the result of a wreck or an accident. As there is no clear way of defining ownership, one who discovers flotsam can claim it, unless someone claims ownership to the items in question.

Back in nineteen fifty-four or so, I did not know this.

So, my reward turned out to be a great learning friendship with Steven Hardcastle, the mechanic at the Fleetwood life-boat station. Unfortunately, not much of what I learnt has remained in my ageing-hard-drive and I never continued my interest in diesel or petrol driven motors, but the knowledge I picked up from my grandad, the electrician, has stayed with me.

So, today I sit with two electric discarded washing machine motors, the first motor was dealt with in my previous posts and it was not from a washing machine. It was a machine-bench motor and was easily fixed so that it could be given back to its owner, Keith my friendly plumber, who wished to use it as a grinder on his work bench.

As my reward he gave me the two old washing machine motors with the directions that if I fix one of them so that it would work on his water pump, I could keep the other.

My mind is at present baffled!

I have done all the necessary multi-meter readings that are necessary to find the starter winding and the running winding and have managed to get both motors working, but one of them will only run in an anticlockwise direction even when I reverse the input polarity.

This is perplexing.

As usual I have made use of the informative world wide web and now all the knowledge I gained as a youngster is in the fore-front of my ailing hard drive, but I am still greatly perplexed.

I have even tried a few slugs from old Toddie and taken a sleep on it, but the riddle remains as to why I can’t reverse the spin of the motor. And suddenly at eight o’clock in the evening my cell phone rang,

“Eh hello, how are you?” asked a young female African voice that I did not recognise.

I gave my standard sardonic reply, “I’m still here.”

It fell on deaf ears, so I ventured, “Who’s that?”

“Comela from Isithembiso, did you get the script?” said the voice.

“Oh yeah, I did get an email this afternoon, a script, but I thought it was a mistake. I was last in Isithembiso over a year ago, played a vice-chancellor for two calls and then my agent told me you’d written my character out.”

“Eh, well, … we need you tomorrow. Pick up at nine o’clock and you should be home lunchtime,”

I was now doubly baffled, electric motors and Isithembiso.

So, a night’s sleep and I waited at nine o’clock for the pick up to drive me to the studios where Isithembiso was being filmed. A safe and speedy journey by the driver Katleco, and I was escorted to the wardrobe department to be informed that I needed no costume as I was only here for a voice-over. I could have told them that as I studiously read the script I was emailed the previous afternoon, so Katleco guided me up another flight of stairs where I was greeted by Beezy, a second assistant director who I knew from shooting in the series the previous year.

“How are you Cess?”

Standard rely again. “I’m still here thanks.”

“Good to see you, you’re here for the telephone voice-overs?”

“It would appear so.”

“Tea, coffee?”

“Rooibos please no milk.”

“We’ve got a smoking room, if you’d follow me.”

“Great.” I replied as I followed Beezy to a two-metre square windowed room, “I’ll go back downstairs and sit outside if that’s OK?”

“Fine”, he replied, “I’ll bring your Rooibos.”

I found myself a plastic chair, pulled out Harold Courlander’s book on the Treasures of African Folklore, an excellent read by the way and picked up my perusal of chapter three, which I book-marked with an old liquor-shop-slip.

About five minutes later Beezy returned bearing my tea, “You never drank rooibos before.”

“Doctor’s advice, they say it helps lower the anti-oxidants in your blood.”

“Oh…...” he replied, looking as if he was about to ask what anti-oxidants were. “I’ll come and fetch you when they need you.” he said departing across the parking lot.

An hour later I was back in my abode having sat in a studio and duly recorded my telephonic voice-overs with a lanky sound assistant reading the other character in what can only be described as African-Broken-English. The director seemed very satisfied and I was escorted by Beezy back to Katleco who was waiting in the car to drive me home.

I’ll elaborate on my findings at the Isisthembiso set in another post, but I can tell you that nothing has changed since back in 1974 when TV was first broadcast in South Africa. A case of learning from one’s past masters, except the past masters made numerous mistakes but they did a better job at hiding them than the present TV production teams. I questioned several senior schedulers as to whether I would be required again soon. I was told probably in about ten day’s time. When I returned home I phoned my agent to enquire if he had heard anything, the short answer was no!

Time to confront my other bafflement, the motor.

I rechecked my temporary wiring and made sure no naked wires were hanging about, satisfied that all was safe I supplied power, the motor ran perfectly in an anticlockwise direction. I reversed the polarity and lo and behold the motor turned clockwise. A double dose of bafflement engulfed me. I had changed nothing from my last test and yet the motor had been reversed, I tried a second and third time switching the positive and negative inputs and each time the test was perfect.

I took a slug from Toddie and convinced myself that I had not changed any connection. Finally satisfied I phoned Keith to tell him he could come and pick up his motor. Wrote down carefully the wiring connections for clockwise and anticlockwise rotation and awaited his arrival.

While I waited my mind drifted off onto the memory I’d recently had with my lap top. About a week ago I suddenly could get not reaction from my task-bar at the bottom of the screen. I duly clicked on Microsoft help button and made a post of my predicament under the “System failure Forum”. Within an hour there were three replies offering various solutions. None of which I could understand, and I did not want another bafflement!

So, I pressed hard on the power button and kept it pressed for about thirty seconds. I then switched it on again and it worked perfectly, my task-bar was working normally.

The end of Bafflement!!