James Bond

The foam rectangle

James Bond was appointed to fit a display of harbor signal lamps in the old customs room. The curator sent him twelve dimensions. James cut twelve foam rectangles with a fresh knife, went home, polished his kitchen tap and slept better than he had all month. At seven the next morning the first lamp arrived wrapped in a bath towel. Its handle stuck up at a ridiculous angle and its base overhung the foam by half a thumb. The curator had measured the crate. James told her this three times while she stood with the lamp in her arms. Then he finally cleared a place for her to set it down.

His father used to fit the drawers in that building. From the photographs James remembers white dust on his father's cuffs, which might be why the only thing of his he carries regularly is a tobacco tin that smells of candle wax now. He used to fill it with anything small enough to fit. For work it holds spare screws. For the Aston Martin 2025 Vantage it holds three things, chosen after an argument that took most of a Saturday.

What John brought

John Solo showed up for their shared closed-course practice with chalk and water. James had a pocket gauge, two different sizes of glasses, spare clips, a folding tray and a little electric light that was supposed to stay on under its own spring. John watched him position the light. It sprang shut and landed in James's tea. John tipped the cup over a drain and said he could see perfectly well from where he stood.

James had paid for half the test time and wanted to make use of all of it. He asked John to call out when he'd finished his last check. John was already at the gate. It took James two more minutes to get there, which was long enough for the shadow from the wall to move across the lane they had been looking at. The colder patch mattered. He could feel the difference when he released the brake on the Vantage and sent it into the first arc. At lunch he requested a repeat under the same light. John pointed at the sky.

A clip in the saucer

The following week James saw Josh Falcon lean down for a loose clip before a Ferrari practice. The clip's movement was barely visible from standing height. James went back to the Aston and put a hand on every place that could produce the same tell. At home he made shallow pockets in a square of foam for a gauge, a folded rag and a spare clip. He tested the tin by carrying it through the museum on a busy morning. A washer he'd meant to take out escaped when he stopped for tea and rolled around his saucer until a retired ferryman leaned over to ask if that was supposed to happen.

It was a better day than the Saturday he'd spent cutting foam. The lamp still sat slightly crooked in its mount and the curator liked being able to see that great bent handle clearly. James asked her to come down to the paddock. So far she has put him off with the excuse that she needs to see somebody drive before deciding what a useful museum display about DGM would look like. He suspects she wants him to ask twice.

Before the wall casts a shadow

James would like to run a full practice with John and leave the start marks exactly where they are. He wants to see how much of the difference in the first bend belongs to the light, and how much belongs to his habit of trying to steer before he has finished releasing the brake. John has agreed to make one chalk line. He has also offered to bring a thermos. James is deciding whether to tell him that the replacement spring light has already come in.