The build was embarked upon with relish by your humble
editor, in hog heaven whenever tackling Anderson subjects and a huge fan of SKY 1/Skydiver since first sight of the macho, gloriously Century21/Meddings-esque fighter/ submarine combo back in 1970. This is going to be fun, I thought. And, actually, it was… although if building a model represents a journey (how very Zen) then this one would prove to be not a gentle walk around the block but, rather, a coast to coast marathon – this not being due to the model in any way, but, rather, down to a set of adverse circumstances that fell into each other like toppling dominoes and seemed at times to be snapping at my heels every step of the way. I’m getting a little ahead of myself, however, so let’s rewind to the beginning and the standard preparation of the resin parts as recommended by first washing them in warm, soapy water, then allowing them to air-dry before supergluing the wings and tailfin in place and filling any minimal gaps where they meet the body. Overall the fit of these pieces is excellent, the wings sitting into a slightly raised surround on the body and the tailfin lining up precisely with fore and aft marks on its base pedestal. I next treated the assembly to a liberal spray of white automotive primer, and here was unknowingly sown the first seed of future challenges with this project.
The quest for Oyster Gold
An ominous portent of things to come began with the prior- to-build hunting down in the real 21st century of cans of the original Skydiver colour – an automotive paint popular in the late sixties called Ford Oyster Gold. Trawling the Net I found that a Halfords branch some eight miles distant from SF&F Towers had several cans in store, according to their nifty online stock indicator.
I barged in through the automatic doors (an editor should always have an air of the dramatic about them – it’s in the manual) the very next morning, only to be greeted by a blank, almost ruminant, stare from the assistant and (Ahead of me here, aren’t you?) by dusty rings on the shelves where cans of Ford Oyster Gold should have been. ‘We can make it up for you, Sir, but you’ll have to wait until lunchtime.’
‘How much will it cost?’ ‘Fifteen pounds per can.’
‘Umm… sorry – I’ve just remembered I’ve left the guinea pig playing with a loaded revolver… Must go… Um… Thanks.’
Determined to locate some of the blasted stuff and to not let the day go to waste I next undertook a sixteen mile pilgrimage to another large local town boasting a Halfords, and there, to my delight, found two cans of the rare hue, snapping them up and only worrying very slightly at this stage that one was older than the other and had a differently styled label, and that the colour on the can lid didn’t quite match the coloured band around the transparent lid of the more modern rattler.
This page: parts, instructions and initial assembly. 85
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