As you may gather from my helpfully numerically-equipped little plastic pals, some of that time has involved sorting through a very old box of Lego. (Sorry, not "old", but "classic", apparently.) It wasn't actually as horrific an experience as I'd feared, and I was mildly amused that my Lego
1. The alteration of production parts to fit own requirements is widespread. Cracked helmets have been carefully cut down to make bandanas, for instance. (I felt a tiny glow of pride in my younger self for that one).
2. One of the very first sets I ever had was the Fire Station. It has two pairs of rolling garage doors, which can only be described as little plastic tambour doors. So that's where the fascination probably started.
3. There are no fewer than three parrots. In real life arguably two have proved two too many...
4. Boats feature heavily. Fire boat, galleon, rowing boats, etc.
5. The only non-Lego thing in the entire box was... an ink cartridge. Honestly, I kid you not.
Alas, Lego has always rather shunned the woodworking fraternity, otherwise I'd have expected to find lots and lots of short brown flats, just too good to throw away but of no practical use for building anything... ;)
Anyway, all very well, but boy, was the stuff dusty. So a good deal of washing of bricks has gone on. Which is the easy bit; drying it all off again takes time. And in some cases, a towel:
gurning and grimacing of the modern figures facial expressions either. And flexible, too. Although, having said that, their ankles are a definite weak point, and worse...
Right, right, sorry. Enough Lego. I apologise, but also fair warning - they may well return here and there, now I've liberated them from the box.