“I’m sure the last chain I bought for this saw cost around £15,” I said to Graham, my local garden machinery stockist.
“You probably did,” Graham replied. “Prices have rocketed in the last year. To make matters worse, there’s at least a two-week wait on many of these parts.”
I was shocked that a new chain was going to cost over £30, plus the dreaded VAT.
The chain was completely blunt, and despite my sharpening it was proving impossible to cut anything with it.
“And you need a new bar too,” he added, peering down the bar at the scorch marks, missing bits of metal and general abuse. “It looks like you’ve been cutting roots with this saw!”
I’d been rumbled. I had indeed been cutting roots, or at least attempting to, amongst other things sure to ruin a chain.
“When was the last time you had this saw serviced?” Graham asked, as he removed an air filter packed solid with sawdust, wood chips and goodness knows what else.
I didn’t reply, mainly because I couldn’t remember. I felt embarrassed that I’d abused this trusty saw, and now it was payback time.
“How long have you had the saw?” The questions kept coming.
I was already worried I was going to be reported to the authorities for abusing houseplants, that I was on the watch list of the Society for the Prevention of Mismanagement of Curtains and Blinds, and now I was about to be reported to the Chainsaw Guild for not looking after this machine.
Once again I didn’t reply, because I couldn’t remember. After all, it’s not like I have my garden machinery’s birthdays in my diary or send them anniversary cards.
Thirty minutes later I walked out with a new electric chainsaw. A quick mental calculation told me it was more economical, and far less hassle, to replace the old petrol saw with a smaller, lighter electric one. Plus I already had the batteries from my last reprimand from Graham, which resulted in me buying an electric leaf blower!
I suspect Karen will now be keeping a close eye on her little saw.
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