Page 206 - It's a Rum Life Book 3 "Ivy House Tales 1970 to 1984"
P. 206

I kept the fork truck’s engine switched on all the time as I gingerly knelt down beneath the
            machine and removed the locating bolts one by one, its ever present overshadowing bulk
            making me constantly aware of the delicate situation.
            Bit by bit I slowly raised the machine millimetres at a time until its whole weight was resting
            on the truck forks. Then, with the formidable machine just clear of the ground, I secured
            the top heavy head of the machine to the fork truck mast with ratchet straps. Now I could
            proceed slowly outside, to use the lorry’s own crane to actually load the press onto the
            lorry body.


            This time I used lifting chains that I was positive could cope with the weight of the huge
            press whatever it might be. Then before releasing the machine from the fork truck I had to
            be sure the crane was safely taking the weight. Bit by bit, I released the fork truck and
            placed the tall, ugly, ungainly thing in the centre of the lorry deck.
            More locking chains secured its position and I could park the crane jib alongside as an
            additional steadying influence strapping the two together with additional ratchets.


            We were on our way and the remaining job of craning the thing though the door of its new
            home and placing it in position on the floor; was simplified by the fact that the “new”
            workshop floor was a similar height to the lorry body. The site had been prepared and the
            new owners quickly bolted the press into position, I then returned to the old factory to
            collect the next order.

            The whole site was in uproar, bright red and white tape surrounded where I had been
            working just a short time before.



            The second fly press was tipped over on its
            side resembling a prehistoric beast in torment.

            Beneath it was an ominous dark red stain.
            I managed to get the basics of what had
            happened from another driver.

            Work was stopped for the day as health and
            safety officers had been called in following the
            death of a professional machinery transporter
            from Nottingham who had arrived to lift the
            second fly press just after I had left.
            As he had tried to lift the machine, it had tumbled down on top of him obviously crushing
            him beneath its huge weight.
            Nothing much was said back at the works that day, but whenever anybody commented on
            my perhaps being a little slow with my lifts with the crane, “better safe than sorry” was my
            constant reminder!

            POSTSCRIPT
            I must finish these stories by saying that I think “Rundles” were delighted when John
            Brooks was finally well enough to resume his regular job and I went off for a few months to
            drive for Lindsey and Holland Farmers Co-operative at New Leake, not far away.


            Rundle's is very much a family business run now by brothers Ken and Alan and sister Sue.


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