The Thrill Of Concrete!

Okay Perhaps I Exaggerate A Little

As you ought to know by now, Your Humble Scribe has been reading lots about concrete fortifications on the Western Front, which background piqued my interest when I came across a Malicious Compliance story on one of Youtube's Reddit threads.  It was an account by a South Canadian who worked for a construction company, pouring concrete.

Eels and "A Daisy Through Concrete"

     It transpires that there is more to the job than simply turning up and sluicing grey glop onto whatever.  This does not stop entitled bottomholes from sticking their oar in about the work, despite knowing naff-all about concrete.  Thus it was in this story.  OP (for "Original Poster") was working at the height of summer, pouring concrete for a pavement at a school, thanks to no students or staff being around.  He had added in fibres to the mix to help it set better, and it was being processed onto the pavement via a pump.

Don't jump - it's just a concrete pump

     OP also mentioned the 'slump test', which is administered to ensure the concrete is of the right quality.

     ANYWAY the pump was aged and infirm and part of it broke, which brought the client hurrying over to nosy at what was going on.

     "THERE'S NO FIBRE IN THAT CONCRETE!" they expostulated - a word you didn't expect to see today.  OP explained the fibre mats break down in the mix.

     "I DON'T WANT FIBRES I WANT PLASTIC!  DO IT WITH PLASTIC!  PLASTIC PLASTIC PLASTIC!" shrieked the customer.  They probably didn't add those last three words, I was just being dramatic.  OP - and the inspector present to ensure quality control - both explain this is a very bad idea.

     "PLASTIC!" howls the client.  Cue the malicious bit of the compliance.  OP mixes plastic matting into the concrete, which promptly jams the pump, which has to be taken apart to have the clog removed.  This happens repeatedly over the course of several hours, delaying the pouring for so long that there is a risk of the concrete drying in the mixer.

     The client, of course, is seething with rage at this but cannot complain as OP complied exactly as requested, in front of witnesses.  The inspector takes samples of the finished pavement, which fails, since the fibres clogging the pump stripped out most of the gravel.  End result: complete removal of pavement, which then had to be re-poured.  Minus plastic.

Bet the customer felt like one of these!

     The moral of the story is that, if experts offer you advice - take it!

     O, in the original OP called it a 'sidewalk', which is an affront to the English language, so I used the proper word for it, and you're welcome.

     Motley, we're going to test how long concrete takes to set.  You go sit in the pillbox and we'll shoot at it.  Yell if anything gets through.

Trench Tramways

Conrad occasionally pops over to "The Long, Long Trail" website to look up an item of interest about the army of Perfidious Albion in the First Unpleasantness.  It's an excellent website and I strongly recommend a visit if you've never been there.  It also houses "The Great War Forum" where you can ask about anything and get a comprehensive answer from people who are expert experts.  What I wanted to comment on was a chance article encountered with the title "Army Tramway Companies of the Royal Engineers".  Art!

     Logistics meant that supplies were carried strategically to railheads, from where they could be taken forward to light railways for onward distribution.  What you see above are the 'tramways' built by the relevant companies of the Royal Engineers, which moved supplies from where the light railways ended, usually well short of the front lines - they made too good a target to get really close.  As the caption above makes clear, the light wagons were usually propelled by Thomas Atkins en masse.  Dunno if we can dig up another picture.  Art!

It's behind you!

     Deffo First Unpleasantness because they're wearing puttees.  And they're approaching the front lines, because whilst it's sunny and hot and sweaty work, everybody is wearing their 'battle bowler'.

     So there you go.  An organisation I don't think I'd heard about previously.

Still Frothing With Righteous Rage After All These Hours

SIT BACK DOWN!  If I choose to rant and tant about Codeword solutions, then you are going to jolly well listen and Conrad doesn't want to hear a squeak about it.

"DOYEN": Excuse me?  Yes yes yes I know what it means - Primus inter pares if you like, or the most senior member of a team.  It comes from the French which in turn takes it from Latin <washes mouth out> and "Decanus" which means a leader of ten people.  HOW IS THIS FAIR! 

"GIZZARDS": Ah yes, the gizzard.  Technically, that part of a bird's digestive system that breaks down food.  Informally, one's stomach and digestive organs.  At least it was BACK IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.  How is this relevant in the present day, when we can put robotic explorers on Mars?  HOW I ASK YOU!

The gizzards of geese

"PURLS": Actually Darling Daughter might have got this one, since she enjoys knitting of all things.  Also dressing up in armour and hitting people with rubber weapons.  I wonder, could she knit a chain-mail shirt?  I think WETA hired people to do this for "Lord Of The Rings".

Sorry, couldn't resist

     Okay, that's enough Hydrazine-fuelled hatred for one day.  Let us move on*.

Finally -

Let me get into the Northrop YB-49 'Flying Wing', finally, as it's eluded me as a subject for a week at least.  Art!

     Well named.  This was the brainchild of Jack Northrup, aircraft designer, and only 3 prototypes were built.  One broke up in mid-air, and the two others suffered mysterious 'accidents' that some suspected were industrial sabotage.  How could this be?  Why, because a certain South Canadian politician wanted Northrup to merge with competitor Convair.  O look, said politician left politics and became CEO of Convair.  Nothing to see here, people, move along, completely above board, no South Canadian politician ever knowingly broke the law** - oops, getting into Politics, which means it's time to tune out.

     Except to nominate Ambrose Bierce for President!

*  Until the next Codeword contumely.  Because there will be one.

**  Ah - ignore this bit.  And don't watch any current news.  Or read a paper.