So with a hectic and exhausting Christmas and New Year behind me it was time to go and relax and do those things I enjoy. Sadly Friday was a total wash out with torrential rain all day, ruining my plans for any kind of ride in Herefordshire. I hoped the weather would improve on Saturday ready for my annual walk with an old friend.
Many years ago in Ludlow my running partner introduced me to one of his work colleagues, Tony Collier. Days later the three of us were on the summit of Mont Blanc - an event which kick started what we all consider to be one of the best three weeks of our lives. Then I went off to university and didn't see much of them. Life changed for everybody, a lot!
But I somehow managed to stay in touch with Tony and once a year we combine our busy lives and pop out for a mountain walk. I use the phrase 'pop out' at its most ironic. These are rarely walks in the park and usually turn into epics; Saturday was no different.
A beautiful crisp morning with a dusting of snow on the hills greeted us. The plan was to walk a 15 mile stretch of the Offa's Dyke Trail from Knighton to Kington (a practice for something even more epic Tony has planned for next year. Eek!) Straight up the hill out of the valley and onto the tops. Progress was slow with endless styles to cross - made all the more difficult due to Tony still recovering from a severe arm injury last September.
Now, on a bike, I wouldn't even blink at the thought of a 15 mile ride, everything changes on foot though! 7 hours later, darkness drawing in, a few spots of rain in the air, concentration waning and senses-of-humour failed (if anybody finds a sense of humour up on the totally pointless mile long dog leg round the field on the Path just outside Kington, could they return it to Jim please?) we were faced with Tony's minor miscalculation - it was indeed 15 miles from Knighton to Kington. However, Tony lives 4 miles outside of Kington...
TONY'S PLAN A: Walk up and down the really, really steep hill and down the other side, in the slippy mud, in the dark, with no map, the 1.5miles to Tony's house.
JIM'S PLAN B: Walk the 4 miles along the very dangerous, fast stretch of main road, wearing all black clothing.
Obviously, being the hardy outdoor adventurous types that we are - Tony and Jim are ex-army - we cunningly came up with another plan.
PLAN C: Phone Tony's daughter Beth to come and pick us up from Kington in the car. Problem solved! Minutes later, cup of tea and cake in hand, we were regaling Beth with the tales and photos of the last 7 hours and already planning the next, longer walk.
Some photos to follow soon; I'm still recovering, I mean, er, I'm too busy, tending my blisters... Hardcore me, hardcore!
Tuesday, 15 January 2008
Tuesday, 1 January 2008
The Meaning of Life
So on the train into work this evening I was feeling a bit old - it was packed with young girls in little skirts and tight black tops, and boys trying to look older than they were rehearsing their birth date in case they were asked. All of them had carrier bags full of 'tinnies', large bottles of Magners or the timeless bottle of Coca-Cola or Sprite (which as we all know has been half emptied of its original contents and topped up with vodka). Still, I can hardly pass judgement, that was me not so long ago. And just as I did all those years ago, I bet they sat there thinking how cool they looked and I was just a stuffy older person who'd never done any of that stuff.
It was only the other week I was reminded of what great times I had as a teenager. I met up with 3 uni friends in Essex for our annual 'my birthday/Xmas/annual/we-really-don't-see-each-other-enough' night out. These were the 3 guys I spent a couple of amazing New Year's Eves with in Edinburgh - including Millenium New Year, and I don't think any of us will ever remember exactly what happened THAT night (apart from the kissing competition obviously, 250 to beat boys!)
At that point, I smiled at the young pups on the train. Whatever they thought they were doing and however cool they thought they were, it had all been done before - and it was old news when I did it...
I finally made it to work. Believe it or not New Year's Eve is by far one of the best nights to work. We have, without doubt, the best view in London. I fought my way through the crowds of thousands on Waterloo bridge into the building and up to the roof. More pictures posted tomorrow, but there's really no place I'd rather be. It's the only perk left in my job.
When that had all finished I went back to work and while we all sat there discussing what may happen in the year ahead, I was reminded of this:
Thanks to Frank for that one, and Monty Python obviously. 2008 is going to be a good year, I can feel it...
Happy New Year everybody!
It was only the other week I was reminded of what great times I had as a teenager. I met up with 3 uni friends in Essex for our annual 'my birthday/Xmas/annual/we-really-don't-see-each-other-enough' night out. These were the 3 guys I spent a couple of amazing New Year's Eves with in Edinburgh - including Millenium New Year, and I don't think any of us will ever remember exactly what happened THAT night (apart from the kissing competition obviously, 250 to beat boys!)
At that point, I smiled at the young pups on the train. Whatever they thought they were doing and however cool they thought they were, it had all been done before - and it was old news when I did it...
I finally made it to work. Believe it or not New Year's Eve is by far one of the best nights to work. We have, without doubt, the best view in London. I fought my way through the crowds of thousands on Waterloo bridge into the building and up to the roof. More pictures posted tomorrow, but there's really no place I'd rather be. It's the only perk left in my job.When that had all finished I went back to work and while we all sat there discussing what may happen in the year ahead, I was reminded of this:
"Just remember that you're standing on a planet that's evolving,
Revolving at 900 miles an hour.
That's orbiting at 19 miles a second so it's reckoned,
A sun that is the source of all our power.
The sun, and you and me, and all the stars that we can see,
Are moving at a million miles a day!
In an outer spiral arm at 40,000 miles an hour,
In a galaxy we call the Milky Way.Our galaxy itself contains a hundred billion stars,
It's a hundred thousand light years side to side,
It bulges in the middle 16,000 light years thick,
But out by us it's just 3,000 light years wide.
We're 30,000 light years from galactic central point,
We go round every 200 million years!
And our galaxy is only one of millions of billions in this amazing and expanding universe!The universe itself keeps on expanding and expanding,
In all of the directions it can whizz.
As fast as it can go, the speed of light ya know,
12 million miles a minute and that's the fastest speed there is.
So remember when you're feeling very small and insecure,
How amazingly unlikely is your birth?
And prey that there's intelligent life somewhere up in space,
Cos there's bugger all down here on earth!
Thanks to Frank for that one, and Monty Python obviously. 2008 is going to be a good year, I can feel it...
Happy New Year everybody!
Wednesday, 19 December 2007
Happy Birthday To Me!
Yay. It's my birthday today. Another year older. Though somehow I feel like I've aged more than a year this year. Why? Because of this: 
This was one of my birthday presents, and no, it wasn't just one of those presents a random relative buys you because they don't really see you that often and have no idea what you like or what you want so get you something they feel you should have - I actually asked for this!
At some point earlier this year I think I might have grown up - I bought a house, I started DIY, I set myself a budget, I had a training regime, I prepared for races, I even gave up drinking for a while, and I started gardening. I actually became rather sensible. (I only went on four holidays! How sensible is that?!)
But no more! If 2007 was a year of sensibleness, 2008 is going to be a year of immaturity; bring on the spontaneous trips across the country for coffee, bring on the stupid bike rides where we barely escape with our lives, bring on the all night drinking sessions. Being grown up is too dull and boring for me - even if it is cheap. There's so much to do before I'm 30 and I can't do it on a budget...
This was one of my birthday presents, and no, it wasn't just one of those presents a random relative buys you because they don't really see you that often and have no idea what you like or what you want so get you something they feel you should have - I actually asked for this!
At some point earlier this year I think I might have grown up - I bought a house, I started DIY, I set myself a budget, I had a training regime, I prepared for races, I even gave up drinking for a while, and I started gardening. I actually became rather sensible. (I only went on four holidays! How sensible is that?!)
But no more! If 2007 was a year of sensibleness, 2008 is going to be a year of immaturity; bring on the spontaneous trips across the country for coffee, bring on the stupid bike rides where we barely escape with our lives, bring on the all night drinking sessions. Being grown up is too dull and boring for me - even if it is cheap. There's so much to do before I'm 30 and I can't do it on a budget...
Sunday, 16 December 2007
Christmas Indulgence
I love Christmas. I don't know why. I just do. And I find everything quite magical around Christmas - the decorations, the lights, the carol services, the markets, the atmosphere, everything is just brilliant at Christmas.
And this weekend is always particularly good. For the last couple of years I've been away for a Christmas/Birthday treat weekend with my Mum. We've been to Brussels/Bruge, Copenhagen and this year we decided to stay in good old London town (because I'm skint from doing up my house). The weekends involve cramming in some culture in stunning cities of Europe; Cathedrals, museums, old buildings and the like, but basically revolves around the sumptuous Christmas Markets! Mulled wine, mince pies, cakes, gaufres, chocolat, gluhwein, glog, cookies, biscuits, venison sausage, kase, vin chaud - if it's sweet, yummy or alcoholic, we'll try it. If it's sweet, yummy AND alcoholic, we'll take a box of it! It's a weekend of pure indulgence. When it doesn't matter what you eat or drink, or indeed how much it costs, as long as it's good and it's Christmasy.
So I'll just pop into the kitchen and warm up some more homemade mulled wine on the stove, heat up a brandy laced mince pie and pour over the Cognac cream. Best open that next box of liquer chocolates as well, the night is young. I love Christmas.
And this weekend is always particularly good. For the last couple of years I've been away for a Christmas/Birthday treat weekend with my Mum. We've been to Brussels/Bruge, Copenhagen and this year we decided to stay in good old London town (because I'm skint from doing up my house). The weekends involve cramming in some culture in stunning cities of Europe; Cathedrals, museums, old buildings and the like, but basically revolves around the sumptuous Christmas Markets! Mulled wine, mince pies, cakes, gaufres, chocolat, gluhwein, glog, cookies, biscuits, venison sausage, kase, vin chaud - if it's sweet, yummy or alcoholic, we'll try it. If it's sweet, yummy AND alcoholic, we'll take a box of it! It's a weekend of pure indulgence. When it doesn't matter what you eat or drink, or indeed how much it costs, as long as it's good and it's Christmasy.
So I'll just pop into the kitchen and warm up some more homemade mulled wine on the stove, heat up a brandy laced mince pie and pour over the Cognac cream. Best open that next box of liquer chocolates as well, the night is young. I love Christmas.
Tuesday, 11 December 2007
Turbo-tastic
Totally ran out of time today, I really don't know where the day went. It was dark before I knew what was happening! Still, with the urge to ride still strong, I popped down to the shed and dragged my surly Cross-Check up to the 3rd floor, stepped over the various power tools blocking the spare room doorway, pushed paint tins, planks and architrave to the edges of the room, and set up the turbo trainer on the nail infested floor boards.
iPod now recharged, I settled into a good steady hour of leg spinning. Legs felt fine, but I had that 'bruised backside' feeling again. You know, for all the years I've been riding, if I take a few weeks off I always get this after my first ride. You'd have thought I (or rather my backside) would be use to this by now, but no, I can guarantee it every time.
Feeling good though and looking forward to my next ride. Bring it on!
iPod now recharged, I settled into a good steady hour of leg spinning. Legs felt fine, but I had that 'bruised backside' feeling again. You know, for all the years I've been riding, if I take a few weeks off I always get this after my first ride. You'd have thought I (or rather my backside) would be use to this by now, but no, I can guarantee it every time.
Feeling good though and looking forward to my next ride. Bring it on!
Monday, 10 December 2007
And the Lord said:
"Let them ride bikes. For this time of year is a time of celebration and happiness." And so it was that on the 63rd day of my illness, I did rise from the sofa and did take out my trusty Surly steed to help banish the evil virus from my body. And low, though I did ride through the alley of the thorns, I feared no punctures. And I did ride over the hills, and across the downs and through the fruitful forest. And when I had travelled many lonely miles and my spirit hath lifted and mine iPod run out; I turned homeward. And the sun set on a beautiful day and the world was good.
And whence I returned from my pilgrimage I did drink tea and eat cake - for every Englishman knows in his heart that these are truly the body and the blood of Christ - and the world was good.
And so, with a smile on my face and a spring in my step (despite aching legs), with the feeling of the wind blowing through my helmet so real I could almost be out there still, I can finally write about riding my bike again: a ride I will never forget. The bright orange sunset flickering through the trees as I approached Ivinghoe Beacon, (must remember camera) then as the terrain changed slightly I lost site of it, the flat Buckinghamshire countryside stretched out beyond the horizon shrouded under it's dusky orange veil, until I turned west directly into the sun down to Ivinghoe and it was so bright and low I could hardly see the road in front of me! This is why I ride bikes.
And life IS good!
And whence I returned from my pilgrimage I did drink tea and eat cake - for every Englishman knows in his heart that these are truly the body and the blood of Christ - and the world was good.
And so, with a smile on my face and a spring in my step (despite aching legs), with the feeling of the wind blowing through my helmet so real I could almost be out there still, I can finally write about riding my bike again: a ride I will never forget. The bright orange sunset flickering through the trees as I approached Ivinghoe Beacon, (must remember camera) then as the terrain changed slightly I lost site of it, the flat Buckinghamshire countryside stretched out beyond the horizon shrouded under it's dusky orange veil, until I turned west directly into the sun down to Ivinghoe and it was so bright and low I could hardly see the road in front of me! This is why I ride bikes.
And life IS good!
Saturday, 8 December 2007
Brain Melt Day
I had one of those days yesterday, you know, where everything is just that little bit more difficult and you can never quite remember what you were supposed to be doing. I think it's because I was distracted with the idea of going back to work.
It started with the post. I had a couple of letters to send. Now, I may or may not have put a stamp on one of the envelopes, but that may not matter because I may or may not have included the cheque in one of them, and I may or may not have signed that cheque anyway. I'm not sure, I got distracted.
Then I started to tidy up. Half way through tidying up I noticed the sun glaring through the smudged hand prints on the window. I put down the polish and duster - which are as yet to be rediscovered - and got out the white vinegar and newspaper to clean the windows. I subsequently misplaced the top to the vinegar bottle which is now making my whole house stink! Yes, it is that potent.
I gave up trying to do anything soon after this and sat down with a coffee and a creme egg. But who cares, it's CHRISTMAS!!
It started with the post. I had a couple of letters to send. Now, I may or may not have put a stamp on one of the envelopes, but that may not matter because I may or may not have included the cheque in one of them, and I may or may not have signed that cheque anyway. I'm not sure, I got distracted.
Then I started to tidy up. Half way through tidying up I noticed the sun glaring through the smudged hand prints on the window. I put down the polish and duster - which are as yet to be rediscovered - and got out the white vinegar and newspaper to clean the windows. I subsequently misplaced the top to the vinegar bottle which is now making my whole house stink! Yes, it is that potent.
I gave up trying to do anything soon after this and sat down with a coffee and a creme egg. But who cares, it's CHRISTMAS!!
Friday, 30 November 2007
A cough...
So, following on from my last blog, I'm still ill. And I'm too fed up to rant now. It's been a rubbish couple of days. Not least because I spent over an hour waiting to see the doctor again yesterday; for the third time in six weeks. Big deal you might think? But before this, I hadn't been to see my GP once in 3 years!
I have nothing against doctors, I just personally don't find them very useful as I have very little need for them. On the few occassions I have been to seem them over the years, they've mostly been rubbish - giving me the wrong information or the wrong diagnosis. Like the time I damaged the tendon in my shoulder joint and the doctor had me doing shoulder shrugs - my physios mouth dropped when I told him. Or the time I had mumps and it wasn't spotted until the following week when 4 of my class mates got mumps! Other instances I won't go into.
But it's not just the good old NHS, it seems it's the same across the Atlantic as well, no matter how much you pay.
Last September I flew to Colorado and a few days later I woke up one morning with a cramp-like feeling in my right leg. Fortunately, it didn't totally cramp up. A few days later the area started to get quite solid, looked bruised and was really quite painful when walking. I popped in to see a friend who recommended a physio to see for a massage to work out what was probably a muscle knot. The physio refused to touch it when I told her I'd only flown in last week as it could possibly be DVT and I should go to hospital immediately!
So I went. And walked up to reception and told the receptionist I'd flown from the UK last week and the physio thinks it's DVT and that I have a "pain in my right calf." It was serious enough to be placed ahead of the guy with the foot and the woman with the finger.
A waiting room stint, a check over, some tests and an ultra-sound later, I was diagnosed with, wait for it... "right calf pain"...
Fast forward again to thursday, a different doctor to the first two times. She read my notes and I added that the bronchitis I'd been diagnosed with wasn't getting any better, I had a back pain almost constantly and these last couple of days I'd been feeling quite dizzy. (I didn't mention that I'd almost collapsed whilst brushing my teeth wednesday night, it's not the most strenuous of tasks and, well, I have got an electric toothbrush...)
Again, more checks - she told me to breathe. I did that. And from that in depth investigation she came to the conclusion that I have, wait for it... "a cough"... But seeing as I've had a cough for so long now, I should probably take some time off work; and take some stronger drugs because the last lot didn't do anything.
Super.
I have nothing against doctors, I just personally don't find them very useful as I have very little need for them. On the few occassions I have been to seem them over the years, they've mostly been rubbish - giving me the wrong information or the wrong diagnosis. Like the time I damaged the tendon in my shoulder joint and the doctor had me doing shoulder shrugs - my physios mouth dropped when I told him. Or the time I had mumps and it wasn't spotted until the following week when 4 of my class mates got mumps! Other instances I won't go into.
But it's not just the good old NHS, it seems it's the same across the Atlantic as well, no matter how much you pay.
Last September I flew to Colorado and a few days later I woke up one morning with a cramp-like feeling in my right leg. Fortunately, it didn't totally cramp up. A few days later the area started to get quite solid, looked bruised and was really quite painful when walking. I popped in to see a friend who recommended a physio to see for a massage to work out what was probably a muscle knot. The physio refused to touch it when I told her I'd only flown in last week as it could possibly be DVT and I should go to hospital immediately!
So I went. And walked up to reception and told the receptionist I'd flown from the UK last week and the physio thinks it's DVT and that I have a "pain in my right calf." It was serious enough to be placed ahead of the guy with the foot and the woman with the finger.
A waiting room stint, a check over, some tests and an ultra-sound later, I was diagnosed with, wait for it... "right calf pain"...
Fast forward again to thursday, a different doctor to the first two times. She read my notes and I added that the bronchitis I'd been diagnosed with wasn't getting any better, I had a back pain almost constantly and these last couple of days I'd been feeling quite dizzy. (I didn't mention that I'd almost collapsed whilst brushing my teeth wednesday night, it's not the most strenuous of tasks and, well, I have got an electric toothbrush...)
Again, more checks - she told me to breathe. I did that. And from that in depth investigation she came to the conclusion that I have, wait for it... "a cough"... But seeing as I've had a cough for so long now, I should probably take some time off work; and take some stronger drugs because the last lot didn't do anything.
Super.
Sunday, 25 November 2007
Been a while...
So it was brought to my attention today (thanks Simon), that I've really not been posting too much. Three weeks since the last one to be precise. The sad thing is, it's not because I've been busy or doing anything exciting - in fact, the exact opposite. Which is why I haven't been posting, because I haven't done anything interesting.
Truth of the matter is, I've been ill for a full six weeks now and to be honest, I'm getting really, really fed up with it. It started with a chest infection from Dusk til Dawn, evolved into flu, which then morphed into bronchitis. I've now cracked a rib, from coughing of all things! And it feels like I've got another cold coming on (though apparently bronchitis + cold symptoms = pneumonia in some cases. Gulp! I'm sure it's not though... just cos it's not... gulp!)
Yes, I could have ridden if I wanted to, but seeing as I practically cough up a lung every time I ride up the little hill from the train station, I thought it best not to. I'm pretty sure that's what caused the cracked rib as well. And passers by look at me as if I've got the plague because I'm coughing so hard and so long. It's not pretty I can tell you.
So that's it. That's what I've been doing all this time. Nothing. Nothing at all. How boring is that. I am getting grouchier though because I'm not riding my bike, so my rants are getting more colourful and my temper is getting shorter. So if this riding drought continues, I may have to post more ranting...
Public transport, don't get me started!!
Truth of the matter is, I've been ill for a full six weeks now and to be honest, I'm getting really, really fed up with it. It started with a chest infection from Dusk til Dawn, evolved into flu, which then morphed into bronchitis. I've now cracked a rib, from coughing of all things! And it feels like I've got another cold coming on (though apparently bronchitis + cold symptoms = pneumonia in some cases. Gulp! I'm sure it's not though... just cos it's not... gulp!)
Yes, I could have ridden if I wanted to, but seeing as I practically cough up a lung every time I ride up the little hill from the train station, I thought it best not to. I'm pretty sure that's what caused the cracked rib as well. And passers by look at me as if I've got the plague because I'm coughing so hard and so long. It's not pretty I can tell you.
So that's it. That's what I've been doing all this time. Nothing. Nothing at all. How boring is that. I am getting grouchier though because I'm not riding my bike, so my rants are getting more colourful and my temper is getting shorter. So if this riding drought continues, I may have to post more ranting...
Public transport, don't get me started!!
Friday, 2 November 2007
The Cookie Story
It's funny how the simplest of things remind you of the strangest of memories. On my way in to work this afternoon I decided to treat myself to a Millie's Cookie from Euston Station. It's been a long time since I bought one of these, but I certainly remember the last time I did and it always makes me smile.
About 7 years ago I moved down to London to start my first job at a small start-up television channel called whereits.at. The thing that struck me about London was how unfriendly it was and how nobody ever spoke to anyone or smiled or made eye contact. So, one night I was working down at our studio in the Trocadero shopping centre and a friend and I decided to treat ourselves to a cookie. As per usual I was bantering a bit with the cute guy behind the counter, trying to get a freebie, but he wasn't having any of it and we paid and went on our way.
Later that night when the show had finished it was the custom for the crew to go to the pub and have rather a lot to drink - who was I to argue. The pub closed and I made my way to the tube station, passing the aforementioned Millie's Cookies. The cute guy was cashing up for the night and a few random cookies lay under the counter so I tried my luck again. I'm not sure whether it was drunken charm or whether he just wanted to get rid of me, but minutes later I was merrily on my way with a bag of 8 free cookies! Result!
So there I was, midnight, stumbling through the London underground with a bag of cookies, passing unfriendly faces. What better opportunity to cheer a few people up than to share my delights with them! On my way up the escalator I politely asked the man in front of me if he'd like a cookie; "oh, er, well, yes, thank you" he said, slightly unnerved that a stranger had spoken to him, and even more puzzled by the fact it was a young lady offering him a cookie! At the top there was a smartly dressed woman, "excuse me, would you like a cookie?" I asked, "they were free and there's too many here for me."
"Oh, thank you very much" she said, and smiled.
Another grey haired man in a suit and two young Asian guys also partook of the free midnight snack.
I got on the train feeling rather satisfied and happy, and I hope everyone who took a cookie that night also went home a bit happier; and that maybe they recounted the story of the crazy midnight cookie girl to their friends the following day and made them smile as well.
And here I am, tucking into my cookie with a cup of coffee, smiling as much now as I did that night. I hope it's brightened up your friday afternoon as much as it has mine. If not, buy a cookie on the way home, that'll cheer you up.
About 7 years ago I moved down to London to start my first job at a small start-up television channel called whereits.at. The thing that struck me about London was how unfriendly it was and how nobody ever spoke to anyone or smiled or made eye contact. So, one night I was working down at our studio in the Trocadero shopping centre and a friend and I decided to treat ourselves to a cookie. As per usual I was bantering a bit with the cute guy behind the counter, trying to get a freebie, but he wasn't having any of it and we paid and went on our way.
Later that night when the show had finished it was the custom for the crew to go to the pub and have rather a lot to drink - who was I to argue. The pub closed and I made my way to the tube station, passing the aforementioned Millie's Cookies. The cute guy was cashing up for the night and a few random cookies lay under the counter so I tried my luck again. I'm not sure whether it was drunken charm or whether he just wanted to get rid of me, but minutes later I was merrily on my way with a bag of 8 free cookies! Result!
So there I was, midnight, stumbling through the London underground with a bag of cookies, passing unfriendly faces. What better opportunity to cheer a few people up than to share my delights with them! On my way up the escalator I politely asked the man in front of me if he'd like a cookie; "oh, er, well, yes, thank you" he said, slightly unnerved that a stranger had spoken to him, and even more puzzled by the fact it was a young lady offering him a cookie! At the top there was a smartly dressed woman, "excuse me, would you like a cookie?" I asked, "they were free and there's too many here for me."
"Oh, thank you very much" she said, and smiled.
Another grey haired man in a suit and two young Asian guys also partook of the free midnight snack.
I got on the train feeling rather satisfied and happy, and I hope everyone who took a cookie that night also went home a bit happier; and that maybe they recounted the story of the crazy midnight cookie girl to their friends the following day and made them smile as well.
And here I am, tucking into my cookie with a cup of coffee, smiling as much now as I did that night. I hope it's brightened up your friday afternoon as much as it has mine. If not, buy a cookie on the way home, that'll cheer you up.
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