Author: Alex

Gone !

On By AlexIn Bikes, Other stuff3 Comments

1) The day with the shortest number of daylight hours. Pedants insist you describe it in this way because “it is not in any way shorter than any other day fnugh, perhumph*”. They also find this amusing, which is why many of us would like the shooting season to be extended to those whose goal in life is to tell you you’re wrong.

2) My hair. A pre-Christmas mow with the trimmer has finally answered a perennial question of “Which comes first the expanding crown or the receeding fringe?” The answer is both, and it now appears my bald pate is expanding ever skywards through what remains on the sides. In other hair related news, whispy gray folicles from every other orifice appear to be on the increase.

3) The number of rides that haven’t involved hub deep mud. A squelsh around the Wyre forest reintroduced me to chainsuck, unwanted sideways movement of tyres, a full body immersion experience enlivened by a hard pebble dashing from suspicious looking brown stuff, and 20 vigorous minutes with the hosepipe to find something even vaguely bike shaped.

4) Work. Until 2009, although only after three hours of purgatory on Saturday morning. My out of office reads something like “You poor sap still in the office eh? Stuff your email, I couldn’t care less frankly“. Well it doesn’t, but it would if I didn’t fancy a difficult meeting with Human Remains Resources.

5) My legs. After their feeble efforts to churn mud into dirt, they have adopted a mutinous position when presented with my idea for a quick ride today. But no matter, they’ll be flogged with the rest of me, since HONC is only three and a bit months away. and at least 4 kilos of Al needs to be gone before then as well!

So that’s me off riding then. Fortuantly there is a lovely real fire warmed pub that does the best Pork Scratching on the way back. Which is important as – like any honed athlete – I understand the importance of recovery food and rehydration.

* They all speak like that. Trust me I know, I work with accountants.

Lights are on but is anybody home?

On By AlexIn Bikes, Mountain Bike RidingLeave a comment

I have never been a huge fan of night riding. Some of this is my engorged lazy gene which goes all 70s shop steward when presented with a plan for dark, cold and wet. And, after five years of spending many unpleasent evenings disadvantaged by bicycle in the Chiltern Mudhills, my default position – between October and March – was hibernation.

And when I did venture out, my rubbish co-efficient was at least a double multiple of standard piss poor performance. I couldn’t see much, and when somehing big and robustly static loomed into view, I engaged target fixation and shoulder charged it. Between that, pedalling to make progress downhill, and steering rarely troubled by the position of the ‘bars, it was sort of, well, rubbish really.

This position was troubling to the Malvern Movement* who extolled the joy of those with “something of the night about them“, and promised an abundament of fun for those listing lycanthropy and bat worshipping in their list of hobbies. ALso, since this 45 sq/km of hillage is surrounded by a million trail users – many of them with red socks and humourless expressions – daytime riding can sometimes be nothing more than a physical and verbal slalom.

And yet I was nowhere near convinced because I know the truth of the myth behind disk brakes. They were in fact invented by a rider of the Chilterns whose ‘V’ brakes had reduced the rotation of his wheels to naught, his previously racey steed now weighed one hundred pounds**, and his very passage was nothing more than an illegal transit of national park moist soil.

It didn’t end well, last seen he was rocking quietly and sobbing gently, with crayoned designs cast around his unkempt self, and his only friend a bottle of DOT.4 from which he was carlelessly drinking. Yet after a few timid rides through the maw of a black night, I found barrelling through a shallow tunnel of light on the heart thumping side of invigorating.

So last night we celebrated the upcoming Winter Solstice with a great ride topped off with Sloe Gin and Mince Pies. The Malverns are nothing more than a glacial sponge so really reward four seasons riding, even if the cheekiness of woody evening bridleways sport a frisky combination of off-camber, slick roots and a gradient best described as plunging.

A topographical situation perfectly constructed for a trio of mildly inebriated mountain bikers missing a set of co-ordinated limbs – last seen upstream of “oh go on then, another swig won’t hurt“. It could have, but when my foot out moto sytle inevitably delivered more tree than trail, the giggling of a rapidly descending drunken idiot could be heard for miles around. Followed by the metally slither of the bike he had previously been riding.

Night riding now is something I am really going to miss when day time hours finally outnumbers those of the night, although dry, dusty and warm will be significantly more welcome. Unlikely but welcome.

In the meantime, I’m taking Snugtrousers(tm) out to play silly buggers in the dark, happy in the knowledge that very few other people are.

* Not a difficult bowel evacuation, more a bunch of very nice people I met off the Internet. Which has to be the first, and possibly a last time that could happen 😉

** Spookily, about what the bike was now worth as well after being ground away by the incessant Chiltern gloop.

DTFU*

On By AlexIn Bikes2 Comments
Ive just been done over by the big nasty Dogs
"I've just been done over by the big nasty Dogs"

That was my response to the dog’s expression as he slunk back in, having been put down in the mud by the bigger dogs. He’s such a wimp though, anything from an aggressive shrub upwards will have him lying down supine and looking to be loved, rather than duffed up.

Can’t imagine where he’s learned that behaviour from. Although it wasn’t in evidence during a terse conversation with a certain on line retailer. “Hello, Just wanted to congratulate you on a superb website, excellent prices, next day delivery and easy to contact customer support. Shame your picking system is a one armed blind bloke who breakfasts from a brown paper bag”

My new shiny forks arrived less than 24 hours after ordering. A triumph of logistics and navigation only slightly let down by them being entirely the wrong sort. And even a man with as much hammer-time as I can see no may to make this round peg fit a square hole. It would have been less vexing had I not gone to the trouble of RINGING THEM UP BEFORE I ORDERED TO AGREE THEY HAD THE RIGHT STOCK!

Now I’ve been forced to buy from a place who have no telephone support, an email reply service rated in epochs, and a chequered history of on time delivery. I fully expect to receive half an elephant wearing a Santa’s hat at a jaunty angle. In February. 2011.

I order myself ONE miserly present and all I receive is aggravation and excuses. It’s clearly not fair, and in that vein I shall be drowning my sorrows in about, oh, 3 hours. Day isn’t a complete right off then.

* Dog the F*ck up. The cannine variation of MTFU – a phrase seemingly used to describe any activity that does not involve ripping the head off something large and toothy, and then eating it raw.

Christmas Presents – Part 1

On By AlexIn Bikes3 Comments
80s inspired retro tinselling!
80s inspired retro tinselling!

With the Spreadsheet of Doom having been re-assigned to house rebuilding duties, it’s hard to know how much – or little we should at least consider that – I’ve spent on bikes lately. Not much is the suprising answer, although that must be placed into the context of the almost criminal approach to shiny-part-syndrome of which I’ve been guilty for far too many years.

Sure the Kona was new (to me) but many of the parts were recycled or some cast off from a kindred spirit (buy, procure excitement, open box, engage disappointment gland, sell for half price) and aside from consumables, it’s all been mostly quiet on the quite Western front.

Until today. Obviously the tinselling of the Cove is not really its’ real Christmas present. That’s akin to stuffing an orange into the stocking* on Christmas Eve and pretending that Santa has taken the rest of the year off. Only when the kids are googling for “adoption by nice parents” do you pony up with the pointless tat they’ve been listing for months.

Amusingly Random cannot quite see the dichotomy between the myth of Santa** dropping down the chimney and weeing on the mince pies, and the fact that certain boxes have been stashed way before the fat man cometh. Verbal on the other hand has a knowing smile and chastises her sister for being so gullible.

I deal with such conflict by a) telling them they are both wrong and b) if they don’t stop RIGHT THIS MINUTE, NO ONE IN THE HOUSE IS GETTING ANY PRESENTS. NADA. NOT ONE. OR ANY FOOD.

So far this has done the trick. Anyway the bike, well it’s sort of had some new forks and wheels ordered . And only because a) bolt through forks are much safer (and shinier) and b) the marketing blurb talks of increased sexiness and decreased girth.

Obviously I am no need of such things. But, you know, it’s always nice to have them in reserve.

* Now I know what you’re thinking. Or at least some of you. And I’d like you to stop as I’m about to introduce my children into this sentence 😉

** No he is not real. Don’t blame me if you didn’t know that. It’s all a marketing scam by Coca Cola anyway.

Meet Colin

On By AlexIn Other stuff5 Comments
That tree is nekkid!
That tree is nekkid!

This is our first live Christmas tree for many years. Previous attempts, when the kids were much smaller, generally led to frantic calls to NHS direct requesting the correct medical procedure to safely remove pine needles from a child’s internals.

Colin* was dug up by nice, if bemused, man with a spade and dumped in the truck. Where it gave me a nasty dose of “pine rash” every time I changed gear before dumping most of it’s prickly bounty on the seats and assorted children. I’m still finding the vicious little spines this morning – hence the concern of my fellow rush hour motorists on being serenaded with by a a middle aged man thrashing about, and making noises associated with significant pain all while still strapped into the driving seat.

It did provide sufficient distraction to ignore all the desperate marketing hiding behind the season of giving. Or receiving – overdrafts, final demands and the like. I know it is all a bit bah humbug, but Christmas is such a rubbish time. You just sit at home getting fat and wasting your holidays.

Round the other side of the world they’re tossing another barbie onto the shrimp**, catching some rays and thinking “hey it’s warm and sunny, what shall we do with the remaining ten hours of daylight“. Back on this storm tossed and icy rock, we’re left with reruns of rubbish films and the queen looking almost as bored as the rest of us.

Carol and I decided not to buy each other gifts this year. And considering the amount of shit we seem to have accumulated over the years, this feels like a good decision. We did – however – buy ourselves a joint present which should stave off dull days boredom, more of which when it finally arrives.

Anyway considering the never ending fiscal big bang exploding around us, I’ve decided to go long on “big biffin birds, new world reds and sufficient confectionery to silence an entire classroom“. This is a short term strategy I’ll admit, but next year we’ll be investing in timber futures and recyclable energy.

Yes the new years resolution appears to be to dig up the entire house, chop down most of Norway and somehow fuse the two together on top of some right on heating system, which also curiously involves digging up the garden. Well the car park that may one day be a garden.

I can see almost nothing going wrong with that, and as such have gone with my own premature New Years resolution to ram raid Majestics’ warehouse.

Bah Humbug, grumble, grouch, wake me up in spring.

* Yes I named our Christmas Tree. 3/4 of the family found this quite amusing, Carol hid her head in her hands agahst at my Peter Pan inability to grow up. Although I think she was just sulking after her name-that-tree entry of “Bruce the Spruce” was unanimously lampooned by the Colin Jihad.

** Surely this can’t be legal. Even in Australia.

When wall rides go wrong

On By AlexIn Bikes, Mountain Bike RidingLeave a comment

Silly, but made me laugh. And let’s face it when Christmas is nearly upon us, we need all the cheering up we can get. Looking out of the office window yesterday, I saw a procession of miserable looking brummies, huddled together for warmth. Either that, or they were engaging in some festive pickpocketing.

I’ll have a proper whinge later, but the traditional slacking off the week before celebrating some old joiner’s birthday has been upgraded to full on work and deadlines. I was going to find someone to complain to, before I realised that might be HR and you don’t want to be seen in their offices at the moment 😉

Well that didn’t go quite as planned…

On By AlexIn Bikes, Mountain Bike Riding1 Comment

If a kind soul were to place me in a comfortable chair and administer a double measure of warming medicine, my response to the concerned question “What’s wrong?” would read something like

Most things. Not quite everything, but many grumpy intersects on a linear scale of increasing wrongness. Sometimes to understand why things are so rubbish right now, you must backtrack to the first point of “when stuff goes bad“.

The first trace of the element fuckup had clearly been hoovered up by the endo-Murph who then promptly exploded in the manner of his first day with us. Of course everything is bigger now, his stomach, his range and the volume of multi-coloured yawn to be founnd pebble dashed across most of the house.

This 5am wake up call provided me ample time to notice a gap where once a wheel stiffening spoke had once proudly stood. I had both a spare and the frankly unhinged tool to effect a repair, but the mechanical knowledge was lacking, and – even when faced down with cold, hard cash – the local bike shop was breathtakingly uninterested until about a week on Thursday.

Thankfully my far sighted policy of acquiring random bicycles harvested up a spare, and I was ready to drive myself all the way to Wales where some nice person would continue to do so for the rest of the day. So ready in fact, the bike was in the car, the full set of body and head protection was packed, and I’d gone all a bit OCD counting pedals and shoes.

A last check of emails showed the uplift service was anything but ready. In fact a state of cancellation had overcome it on the grounds it was too dangerous. HANG ON, I’ve been telling everyone how dangerous it is and – viz a viz -why I am so damn brave to go and ride it again. This held no truck with those driving vans on icy forest roads, and I was left with a chilly 8am dilemma.

One I hedged by using every 21st communication method to establish contact with Mike (my fellow downhiller for a day), all of which failed, and I was fresh out of pidgins. In the spirit of ‘fuck it, I’ve booked the day off, may as well go riding“, I carefully chucked the big boys collateral onto the floor to make way for xc stuff that was significantly more gay*

While all this was going on Mike was replying using the exact same talk-to-AL technologies I’d been bothering him with. Which would have worked extremely well had my dumbphone taken to doing what I’d paid it form rather than display a state of passiveness that convinced me it was actually working. Understandably Mike gave up, and I was left to a couple of solo laps of the Cwmcarn XC course.

Which was frozen solid, deserted, occasionally sleety, slightly more frequently cheekily icy on corner apex’s, and probably just what old snug-trousers(tm) needed. But not what I wanted, and even the magic of Titanium was beaten by the unforgiving ground. Although not as beaten up as the pilot who – after 20 miles of this – was suffering from cramp of everything including teeth.

So I didn’t get to go and pretend to be brave. I had to ride uphill and do so uite often. Many other small things were shittiest enough in frequency to to become big things. But on the upside I still got to ride my bike and didn’t have to go to work. Although time enough was left for me to service a set of working brakes that – after 3 hours – were ALMOST as good as when I’d started.

But there’s still a week of 2008 before Children’s holidays cull the riding season so if this sodding ice age would bugger off for 24 hours, I’ll be having it small on a mountain near me. You see while a lack of talent and a delusional complex may hold me back on the hill, bloody mindedness will damn well get me there.

* I’d like to point out the hedgehog is an equal opportunities annoyer. Sexual preference, colour, creed, religion or advanced animal husbandry techniques are all equal here. But I draw the line at trekkies, anyone using air quotes or ownership of folding bicycles. I mean all the hits are welcome, but a man must have some standards.

Nativity plays: the rules

On By AlexIn Other stuff7 Comments

I feel well qualified to document the rules that govern every school play performed during the Christmas Term. I’ve now into double figures of watching the little cherubs fall over each other in a not terribly amusing manner. So here goes:

1/ Wherever you are sat, someone will apologetically wheeze in late encumbered by two screaming toddlers, and a babe in arms. The next hour will be spent receiving apologies, finger flung snot, sharp toys to tender parts, and endless screaming just below the pain threshold.

2/ On the other side, competitive dad will be extorting his little princess to barge her way past friends so he can take a better picture. The fact that we are some forty feet from the stage and his flash barely reflects the balding heads in the next row bothers him not at all. If you’re lucky a sticky sweet from the devil child next door will bypass your face, and instead attach itself limpet like to his lens.

3/ The X-Factor/Bone Idle/Who gives a fuck you can yodel in Yiddish TV shows have made this “me, me LOOK AT ME” so much worse.

4/ Hip flasks are not encouraged. And that’s probably right as some of these children are only five for heaven’s sake! And even if you water it down, it’s still a bit harsh for their little stomachs 😉

5/ You will leave the hall with a new and viscous airborne strain of something terminal. It is like being locked on the inside of a quarantine ward. Honestly they should give us all bells before we leave “UNCLEAN, UNCLEAN” we could cry whilst expectorating a pint of phlegm.

6/ The air will be thick with moral messages parotted by kids who ignore them almost as often as their parents. But they’ll be encapsulated in nice songs, so that’s alright then.

7/ You will be ex-communicated from every future event if you fail to buy less than 20 raffle tickets at a quid each. Don’t harbour even the slightest expectation that a boozey prize may be your reward. Basically the whole thing is fixed by the PTA – only they have winning tickets, so recycling all the prizes from the Harvest Festival and trousering the difference.

8/ Some unlucky bastard always get dressed up as a donkey. He’s the poor sod who would hand over his own underpants just to be one of the sheep instead. For the next 5 years, he cannot pass another pupil without hearing the sound of braying.

9/ However many kids are on stage and regardless of the number of musical instruments being played, not one note will ever be in tune. Children can’t carry a tune, but they do have the vocal armoury to drag it behind the bike sheds, and give it a good kicking.

10/ The last song is always the most uplifting, and many people thing this is why it gets the greatest round of applause. Us old hands know the real reason is this is the clapping of the mightily relieved and soon to be released. Hence, when the kids start milking it, the hissing breaks out.

Here’s some advice. Go in with a lively smile and dead brain, and be happy if you can escape before inter class fighting breaks out. And if a stage frightened little girl implores you with teary eyes to give her the name of the messiah, the bringer of the light, the new hope, the Son of God, do not – WHATEVER THE TEMPTATION – offer up “Bwwyyyan“.

I mean sure it’s quite funny, but that child is going to be permanently traumatised. Honestly who’d stoop so low as to ruin the whole event just for a cheap laugh?

Ahem.

Slip sliding away

On By AlexIn Bikes, Mountain Bike Riding1 Comment

Yesterday I inadvertently entered the “All English Rubbish Driving Competition“. There were some real title contenders especially those enclosed in high chassis’, riding on 4×4 transmission systems, supported by complex electronics and the power of marketing.

Their faith in the brilliance of their vehicles was somewhat undermined by a cruel lack of knowledge pertaining to how the words “Ice” and “Grip” rarely fall into the same sentence. Unless someone inserts a meaningful “no” in the middle.

So I watched in amused horror as ditches became car parks, roundabouts became straight on’s, and a strictly come pranging combination of spins and pirouettes played out in front of me. The downside was it took me three and a half hours to reach Milton Keynes – a place I didn’t really want to go in the first place.

Tomorrow’s journey is both shorter, and the destination far more exciting. I’m tweaking the nose of terror back at the Cwmcarn downhill course to see if I can be this lucky twice. The ice on the roads shall be seamlessly transported to big roots, forbidding rocks and an entire section best labelled “Death by off camber”

I shall report back with manly tales of riding skill and just simple down to earth bravery. That’ll be the other guy obviously, while my contribution shall be nothing more than great excuses and a nice pot of tea.

Some sports psychologists tell their clients to visualise success and “BE THE BALL” whereas I am more of the cowardly “BE ALIVE” school of thought.

Mad dogs and Yorkshiremen.

On By AlexIn Bikes, Other stuff2 Comments

Dog meets Man. Man loses.

If a man is knocked over in the woods when no-one else is there, does he still make a sound. Yes he absolutely does and the noise is “uuuumpppphh”. Murphy has learned “Come” but has yet to master “Stop” or even “Swerve”

Still he does reward your comatose form with a form of slobbery mouth to mouth that would resuscitate any human with even the merest flicker of life left within them. To the commentary of “Geroff, GEROFF, Yuk, Ugh, GERRRROOOOOFF“. This merely seems too encourage the pup who fails to understand that 25+ Kilos and a decent link of speed is likely to flatten anything with less structural integrity than a good sized building.

Low sun You never learn.

Either that or he just doesn’t care 😉 Properly icy this morning which made this afternoon’s ride swing between amusing and bowel clenching. It’s a good job the brakes don’t really work on a CX bike or I could have been in some real trouble.

Just walking the dog Bright light

As it was, I hurtled down frozen roads and scared a few dumb birds in the local woods with some ad-hoc cycle based beating. Not sure they are entirely legal trails, but since no one shot me I have added them to the list for further investigation. That’s the woods, not the birds. I shall be likely investigating those with a nice side of roast potatoes.

Talking of food, two weeks off the bike and a diet based entirely on whatever crap is placed in front of you, while you’re working your tail off, has not given me the turbo sprint or immense stamina I was hoping for. I feel some of the blame for this must be laid firmly at the door of full fat Coke.

You see, the South African’s refuse to accept the existence of fizzy drinks without a thousand calories in them. Or parts of a dead cow that don’t overhang the plate on both sides. “You want vegetables with your steak sir?” “Where do you suggest I put them?* Tell you what bring me a spare plate and a larger pair of trousers and we’ll be good to go”

A man came today and tried to introduce a sub prime bathroom experience by designing a “water based luxury experience” that would have cost about the same amount as the whole house. This did not sit well with my self imposed temperance approach to the weekend.

Still wine is basically one of your five a day isn’t it?

* Thankfully the waiter failed to offer the obvious alternative receptacle at this point.