greystone 02

THE GREYSTONE PHENOMENON Part 2

By now you are very likely wondering how the “Prof” had survived as long as he had. I think that thought has flitted across many a mind.

Believe it or not, there’s more to come.

Sadly, being a Pet Fitter on Christmas Island meant that there was no one else around to do our major repairs or maintenance. Sometimes it was just a complete pain in the nether regions. Other times it was a challenge that was faced with some trepidation and then there were the times when you knew that something just had to go wrong.

These latter ones were the jobs that the “Prof” decided needed his expertise and experience.

One day one of these jobs came along. A section of pipe had deteriorated to such a degree that it had to be replaced before we had a complete drama on our hands.

The pipe, a twenty foot long x 6” diameter length of mild steel that had rusted away underneath to a critical stage. The pipe was joined by steel flanges, each with 6 bolts. In fact 6 rusty, seized solid bolts.

You could almost hear the Prof’s brain ticking over. Finally he came up with the solution.

We’d managed to get the bolts free at one end but the others refused to budge. Being a line that had contained fuel, heat was out of the question.

“We’ll get the Stilson and unscrew the pipe from the flange.” Brilliant idea, except that the Stilson required to fit a 6” pipe isn’t the type you see carried by the local plumber.

The pair we had were the only pair I’d ever seen that size, and I’d been an apprentice plumber prior to enlistment.

Picture it. A huge lump of drop forged steel, 60 inches long, teeth like a bloody crocodile and heavy enough to hold the world record for producing ruptures.

Now, this could be dangerous. A theoretician let loose with the biggest Stilson in existence with not the faintest idea what he’s going to do. Dodgy is an understatement.

“Right, stand back and I’ll give it a shot to see what happens.”

By now Yorkie and I had a pretty good idea what was going to happen.

The normal procedure is to position the Stilson so that when you push DOWN, the teeth grip and if you’re lucky the pipe turns.

Not our “Prof”. He positions it so that he squats, one leg each side of the Stilson so he can pull UP with all his might.

The first thing you ensure is that the teeth are going to grip. Sadly this precaution was omitted. With a loud grunt our revered boss pulls and straightens his legs at the same time.

Sixty inches of mild steel fly skywards at a phenomenal speed only to by brought to a shuddering halt by the “Profs” wedding tackle.

I can’t really describe the sounds that emitted from his quivering lips. However, you could tell by his eyes that the pain must have been indescribable. Once again both Yorkie and I were in pain. It’s wicked to laugh at the afflicted so we suffered in silence.

The funniest thing about the whole event was the aftermath. The “Prof” wasn’t really your muscle bound hunk. In fact his legs were painfully thin.

I can see him now, Long shorts, thin legs doing a pretty good imitation of Lester Piggott less horse. This sad spectacle lasted for quite a while. Luckily for him he was still single and would recover before he returned to UK for his wedding.