2016-03-24 Thu


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Out in the recycling room lies a fan. There are six apartments on this floor, and I am not the one who threw it out.

Why did it get thrown out?

Well, it is a bit dirty.

I plugged it in long enough to see the blades turn at speed.

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Here is a close-up of a blade of the fan; caked with dust glued on by some kind of oil. Not the kind of thing I’d like to have blasting up my nostrils on a hot night.

So I dismantled it, plunged the lot, motor and all, into a large bowl of dishwashing-detergent hot water and made myself another cup of coffee and did a crossword puzzle.

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A bit of a scrub with my long-handled dishwashing brush and the casing turned from khaki-brown to pearly-white. I wish my teeth looked this good.

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Here it is re-assembled. Looks quite nice doesn’t it?

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An “Airworks” desk fan. Three-speed control knob (cleaned up with an old toothbrush)

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The model number will give me a rough age.

The two-core cable cleaned up rather well too.

I figure that the gunk was condensed tar from cigarette smoke. Now who, on my floor, is a smoker? (heh heh!)

Later: I read on the label “01/2008” so my guess is that this fan is at most eight years old. So now you see what cigarette tar does to a fan whose blades are moving at high speed, can you imagine what cigarette tar does to lungs, where the passage of air slows to zero – high rate of deposit then – on each breath?

The Toronto Star

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Full marks for whichever editor laid out this page for Saturday’s edition.

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The first article blasts the concept of zoos, bad places, insidious, no one in their right mind would go there, blah blah blah ...

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The second article blasts Queen Elizabeth and the Royal Family and Royalty in general.

And pussy-cat, pussy-cat, was the queen at home when you went to visit her?


Where was she then?

At the Zoo, the Lion Cages, since you ask!

Hah hah.