I’m tackling titanium, it’s difficult I know,
I’ve never tried it out before, so I thought I’d have a go.
There’s a lump I’ve had for ages, I don’t know where it’s from,
So I’ve clamped it firmly in the chuck. What could possibly go wrong?
Don’t let the stuff work harden, if the tool rubs you’ll regret it
Keep the feed free cutting, if you stop you can forget it.
Be bloody bold and resolute, but calm and reasoned too,
But don’t be heavy handed, a dig-in’s not good news.
Let the machine do all the work, the feed in automatic,
The heat it seems to generate is really quite dramatic.
But the swarf is long and stringy, razors in a caddle
It’s just as well the handwheel is the right side of the saddle.
According to the internet it might just set on fire.
Jeopardy’s exciting, the risks could not be higher
If I burn down our conservatory I’ll get absolutely slaughtered
And my wife’s long lost relations will all revel in my torture.
All is going swimmingly, my workpiece size is thinning,
The finish something excellent, for a short time I was winning.
But suddenly a horrid noise, a nasty clonky clunk.
Oh damn! My brand new lathe tool is missing a great chunk.
So I’ve had to change the carbide, and set it back in motion,
Approach once more with confidence, forgo my normal caution.
It’s nearly down to size by now, if I tweak the cross slide higher,
I’m sure I’ll hit the tolerance, and satisfy my buyer.
This endeavour’s just a past-time, I’ll enjoy while I may
But I need to stretch the boundaries, keep the brain cells from decay.
The alternative’s too awful, Eastenders’ not for me.
Or lounging on the sofa with reality TV.
Edited By Simon Williams 3 on 15/01/2019 20:36:21