The worst and possible the best part of aging is a failing memory. My wife has suggested that I may be over qualified to hide my Easter eggs this year.
So, there I am rummaging around my shop and looking inside some dust covered cabinets. If it were not for my good thinking, at the time, where I left notes with some details of where, when and how much, I could have remained puzzled about what I found.
Rather than going into great and boring detail on the new-to-me-again-again bits and pieces, I think I should post a few pictures. If I have posted this before, there will not be an apology from me.