This is the big bench in the Throne Room. I posted the picture already, but I needed it to show why I was drilling holes in the thing last week.
If you look very carefully you may notice a slight lean towards the left hand end of the bench. This, despite being covered in a variety of plastic sheets, still managed to flood when it rains. The simplest answer was to drill a drainage hole in the flooded corner and let the water escape.
Predictably, this job proved too much for our normal rechargeable drill which made two turns and started letting off blue smoke. The professional quality cordless I borrowed from work did little better, and my attempt to use a a heavy-duty chorded drill failed miserably because I couldn’t get a cable to reach the bottom of the steps, let alone the bench itself.
It shows the effect of the power tool propaganda machine and my bad organisation that it took a week of fretting before I remembered my Grandad’s fifty year old crank drill, found it in the living room and took that to the garden, more in hope than expectation.
The drill went clean through the wood in less time than it took to unravel an extension chord. Even better, being slimmer than an electrical drill, it fitted into the corner and I could make a hole exactly where I needed one.
Then, of course the drill bit jammed in the hole and it took fifteen minutes of persuasion and not swearing* before I was able to extract it, and watch with some satisfaction as the lake on the seat slowly drained down the outside of the bench.
Hand tools rule.
*Small children have an uncanny ability to be within earshot when things are going wrong.