A special kind of printing

With some berry hibiscus tea besides I started working. I began by continuing my work on the excel order table. Later, I was told I should have accessed another version of this file. I admit I could have had a look before. But mistakes happen and you learn from them. By the time there came new orders. Before I added them to the table I should update the file system on the NAS.
For lunch I went to a pub behind the next corner my first time.
Later, I helped a nice employee to print sports T-shirts for the London Legal Walk at the mid of June. He told me of different shirt printing types. There is sublimation printing like it is done at DoduLand: A special type of ink is printed on a heat resistent paper before. Of course this step is done at DocuLand too. The logo of the company the T-shirt is printed for is printed on it mirrored. The paper is fixed on the shirt with two stripes of heat resistent adhesive tape. Afterwards, the T-shirt was put over the lower side of a special heat press. As as soon as the upper part of the heat press was turned above and pressed onto the T-shirt a countdown of 35 second ran. At the same time, the temperature of the heater was at at least 200 degrees. When the timer was run down the machine beeped. Immediately the employee opened it, pulled off the paper fastly but with care and took the T-shirt off the press.
Another kind of printing is Vinyl printing. He knows it because the employee I was working with is also self-employed. So before he comes to DocuLand he works on his own printing T-shirts. He said he has two printing presses but more professional: As soon as he operates a pedal the press closes and after the countdown it opens automatically. At the beginning the smell reminded me of fresh bread or rolls. However, later my nose began to tickle and that or a similar feeling lasted for the rest of the evening.
Last but not least, I brang away some parcels and letters to the post office. Strangely, on two of them it said large letter even though they looked like parcels.
Later, I was on my way to Tate Modern to meet my godfather who was staying in London for a spontaneous visit. His new long-term partner was present too and I saw her my first time. In Gala newspaper an aquaintance of her discovered a vegetarian restaurant, The Gate. We enjoyed a delicous dinner there.

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