I haven't had a good fiddle and got my hands mucky for ages - but that's enough about my romantic involvements.
I was out on the Triumph today (I needed an excuse for something, as today has been the first dry day since we got back from France, and I needed just a few bolts and stuff for some minor repairs to the caravan, so taking the bike was a no-brainer) and I heard a rather familiar groaning noise from the rear of the bike. I popped it up on the lift when I got home and sure enough the rear brake was a bit sticky.
Just now, I finished a beer, walked outside, removed the rear brake caliper and pads, cleaned the pistons and the retaining pins back to bright metal, made sure the pistons retracted correctly, replaced it all with nice smears of clean grease, and did a quick test. Sorted.
If I have used a pound's worth of materials (brake cleaner, grease, Loctite) I would be surprised, and the whole thing took me under an hour, including cleaning up.
On the car, in a forrin country, the same thing has just cost me six hundred sodding, twatting, bollocking quid.
On the plus side, I have just had a text from my eldest, asking if I would be up for a couple of nights camping with her and boyfriend somewhere half-way between us, with camp-fire and a box of wine and some tortillas. Apparently I am now some kind of camping guru since I discussed tents and stuff on the phone with her a few nights ago.
I think I could manage that.