A few months ago, a friend was at the Woodend tip and saw a spinning wheel. She bought it from the nice tip men and gave it to me for my birthday.
I took it to the new home of the hand weavers and spinners guild yesterday morning (655 Nicholson Street [just as well I won't be in Melbourne much longer]) and it turns out that there was nothing wrong with it that a screw driver, a new drive band, two springs, some fishing line, candle wax, some sand paper, some machine oil and two hours of elbow grease wouldn't fix.
I had a lovely time restoring it [part way] to its former glory (I couldn't find any furniture polish - they didn't have any in the supermarkets I went to. I figure I will wait until I get home. Mum is bound to have stuff like that about somewhere).
And then a perfectly splendid time spinning. It is So Much Faster than the drop spindle (though I spin a much more consistent thread on the spindle at the moment, and Doris will not fit in my pack to go to Uzbekistan).