Lady Agatha fumed quietly to herself as she leaned, with diminishing patience, against her estate’s boundary wall. She did not lean as one would casually lean, with one’s feet firmly on the ground. She leaned, perched precariously on top of a penny-farthing. It was modified to her own design in order to facilitate the rider sitting side-saddle. Whilst waiting for the footman to finish erecting the folding steps which would enable her to dismount with a modicum of both safety and propriety, she reflected that her experiment had not been entirely successful.
Despite the addition of stabilising wheels, the shift in the centre of gravity had proved quite detrimental to the operational efficiency of the device. Balance had proved to be problematical, for it was necessary to pedal a crankshaft with both feet on one side. Thus, motive power was transferred to the drive wheel via a weighty, lop-sided gearbox. The required counterweight added almost insurmountable inertia when pulling away, which was inconvenient. It was downright dangerous when in motion. When travelling downhill, a brick wall was about the only thing capable of stopping it.
Steering had also proved to be an issue. It required that the handlebars be positioned to align the wheel at a slight angle just to be able to go in a straight line. The application of the necessary trim contributed to massive oversteer when turning in one direction and a subversive understeer in the other.
There was another problem she had not foreseen before attempting to ride the perilous contraption for the first time. The riding crop, dangling from her right wrist by a leather strap, tended to rub against the spokes of the front wheel. Whilst this made a pleasing sort of whirring sound as each spoke impacted with the end of the implement, it would occasionally get caught, violently pulling her hand away from the handlebars, which did nothing to aid her in the eternal battle with directional control.
With the steps finally in place she extended a booted foot and climbed down with as much glacial dignity as she could muster. When both feet had finally re-established their customary relationship with terra firma, she suddenly became aware that she was being watched. She turned to look across the road at a hedge and her Arctic blue eyes espied the face of a grubby looking urchin through the veil which depended from her top hat. The child’s gaze was disconcertingly intense and the delighted smile which played around his smeared mouth was positively unnerving.
“You, there! Yes, you, boy! What d’you think you’re looking at,” she barked at the fascinated infant.
“I don’t know, your ladyship, I’ve never seen one before,” the child responded.
Lady Agatha had to admit that this was not an unintelligent reply. She was fairly certain no one had, and if she had her way, no one would, ever again. She gave a wry smile and continued her interrogation of the suspect in a kindlier tone of voice.
“What’s y’r name, boy?”
“William, your ladyship.”
“And who’re y’r people?”
“My people, your ladyship?”
“What’s y’r surname, boy?
“Oh, it’s Heath-Robinson, your ladyship.”
“Don’t know ‘em,” said Lady Agatha. “You’re not a local, that’s for sure. How old are you, William, and what’re you doin’ here?”
“I’m six and a quarter and I’m on holiday with mum and dad. We’re from London. That’s where we live.”
“Probably just as well,” replied Lady Agatha with a crooked smile. She reached into the pocket of her jacket and tossed a sixpence, which William caught deftly with dirty hands. "Let this be a lesson to you, William. It always pays to think an idea through,” and with that she turned on her heel and walked through the gateway into her estate.
She heard the boy’s thanks shouted after her, but gave him not a second thought.
She had absolutely no idea what she’d done.
(for the benefit of those who don't understand... http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/W._Heath_Robinson )
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Speaking personally, as someone with a rather broad and ecclectic general knowledge, as well as growing longer in the tooth by the minute, I have a terrible habit of expecting people to know what I know and consequently get the joke - lol. I ran this past my sister in the expectation that she'd get it straight away. Horror of horrors, she didn't know who Heath-Robinson was, nor did she associate Heath-Robinson with the term with a complicated and unlikely machine! Well, I've learned my lesson, hence the link at the bottom of the page.
Originally Posted by Hawkman
