You can call me Al

On By AlexIn Other stuff3 Comments

Never really understood the original lyrics but then the whole Paul Simon thing kind of passed me by in a “who cares how clever you are, it still sounds shit” kind of way. But anyway, my blazing trail of the entire medical facilities of North Buckinghamshire has highlighted something mildly interesting.

Lots of starched uniforms have poked a head round a corner with a query “Alexis Leigh, is he here?“. Most of my fellow sufferers – on what I’m starting to think off as death row – perked up to see if there were any shoulder pads and eighties Dynasty icons* in the building. My mum – bless her and frankly I blame the drugs they doshed out at childbirth in those days – came to the strange decision that Alexander would be a bit much too sign. Instead I was christened (actually they never got round to it and for the first three years I was known as “whatsit over there” which is possibly at the root of my insecurity complex) Alexis after some Greek God of Furniture or something.

No-one ever called me that. I kept it shrouded and hidden away as my guilty secret preferring Alex in my youth, Al later on and back to Alex once that bloody song came out. I can’t look a Chevy Chase movie in the face anymore**

And it was a good instinct because when my registration to the secondary school saw Alexis Leigh placed on the GIRL’S list, you can probably imagine the humuliation and suffering at the first assembly. And then the registration for the following 8 classes. It’s hard to be cool when you’ve got a pudding basin haircut, national health glasses and the baying of 29 other kids screaming “what’s your real name you bloody ponce“. I learned alot in the first two weeks about fighting – or to be more accurate getting beaten up – and displacement activity.

Sorry about that, it was almost like therapy 🙂

So having been prodded, X-Ray’d and sorounded by happy leaflets which you really don’t want to open, never mind read, sometime in the next 10 days, medical science may offer some diagnosis of my mono lung downgrade.

It’s probably nowt. The nurse looked at my notes raising a quizzical eyebrow and asking “a full set of full blood tests? again?“. She didn’t add “you bloody hypocondriac, don’t you know we’ve got some proper sick people here“. But she didn’t have to, the eyebrow was enough. Honestly, go in with a cold nowadays and the next thing you know the buggers are putting you down for a CAT scan. It’s seems almost surly to refuse.

I’m definately getting old tho. I found a liver spot but my guess is that’s just the organ trying to leave my body by any route possible, such is the punishment it’s had to suffer this last twenty years.

I tried riding to work this morning. That was – on reflection – a bad idea ending in the kind of heavy breathing that would merit an ASBO or an arrest or, more likely, both. By 2pm, it was clear that whatever the medication needs to be, being at work wasn’t it. I cycled back at normal lung minus 50{45ac9c3234d371044e23e276755ef3a4dde8f1068375defba7d385ca3cd4deb2} and actually it was rather pleasant taking just three minutes longer than my normal sweaty, aerobic one man charge at the station.

I feel like the Giraffe in Disney’s Madagascar***. Smell a bit like it too.

* I could do a link but I really can’t be arsed. Google is your friend if you care even the tiniest bit.
** See above 😉
*** Take a wild guess

I want my lung back

On By AlexIn Other stuff2 Comments

This is not my favourite season for many reasons but mainly because winter bring short days and longer illnesses. Everyone I know is snotty, coughing or “ if they’re a bloke “ suffering from a combination of botulism, typhus and dysentery easily categorised as man flu“. Me? I get all of that and as a bonus disease permanent asthma.

I’ve had it forever; diagnosed about the age of seven and so subjected to much prodding and sage nodding of heads. Treatment back then was the hated Spinhaler” into which you inserted a powdery tablet and then cracked it open using a shotgun ratchet action. All that remained was to suck in the ensuing dust, although this was a tad problematic when your peak flow was averaging about 300. Peak flow is a good measurement of lung capacity and mine’s now about normal for a bloke of my age. Back then it was about half of what it should have been which reminds me of many a night desperately wrenching critical air into tortured lungs.

A few lucky people grow out of Asthma but not many, leaving the rest of us have to manage it“. First seek and destroy “ or at least avoid “ the triggers that fire it up in the first place. Not easy when this list includes animal hair, colds, chest infections and hay-fever just for starters. And stress which is the diagnostically lazy rubber stamp to almost everything “ can’t sleep? Probably stress related, can’t stay awake? Are you feeling stressed out? Getting Ashtma at odd times? Probably need to check out your stress levels.

Secondly, drugs. A daily steroid now delivered through a simple gas shot straight into the cakehole and crisis management via the never-to-be-left-at-home Ventalin. Amazing stuff, opens up the pipes in an instant and has the added benefit of removing blue as your primary colour.

I’m pretty lucky in that it doesn’t really affect me that much or that often anymore. At school, it allowed me to skive games and the muddy cross country run was always for other people. But it’s also a cross to bare as it makes you different and so easy prey to pick on and tease. I hardly noticed it while studying for my degree as drinking beer and talking shit doesn’t require much lung action. One night though, it struck with perfect timing “ I had neither drugs nor access to any, being some five miles from civilisation and about half of that to a phone box.

Continue reading “I want my lung back” →

Sod the expense, feel the quality

On By AlexIn Bikes, Mountain Bike Riding3 Comments

Our mini roadtrip consisted of 360 miles, one night in a bed and breakfast, one curry in the terrifying post apocalyptic horror that is Maesteg and various cakes, coffees and beers. Oh and an epic 14 miles riding. That works out about £3 a mile and you could run a Challenger tank on that.

There are mitigating circumstances. Firstly daylight is something that only happens in seasons other than winter. There is a counter argument which goes something like “well you have a set of very expensive lights you could use when it gets dark”. That’s all very well but a dark, cold Welsh forest in the middle of winter inhabited by things that may kill you or at least deliver a light mugging, is not my idea of fun when the option is warmth, light and beer.

Obviously we could have set off earlier but that would have removed one of my excuses for not wanting to ride more than once. MonoLung(tm) and heavy bikes mix as well as Relatives and Christmas. Uphill was actually ok as I’ve learnt to manage my lungs when Asthma strikes. Downhill, working hard to get the most out of the bike, left me breathless and stationary at the side of the trail.

Still it gave me time to wonder how the route could be so dry and so much fun. Man made trails are great in winter, they offer a consistency of experience regardless of the weather. There was plenty of grip and not many people which makes for great riding between desperate gasps for a lungful of clear air.

Winter light. DarksideBrad freepushing.Brad last hairpin. Darkside3PM in Wales. I want BST backBrad black run

One lung, not much ideaBrad Whytes

So once the man with the bike carrying van said no and the night plunged down the hill, we abandoned any thought of riding and instead dreamt of edible recompense for our awesome calorific efforts earlier. A sweep of the local offerings suggested no one in South Wales eats outside their own houses until March. We resorted to a meandering trip through the nearby ex-mining town of Maesteg, which told me everything I didn’t want to know about what happens when an industry dies. Streets full of thrift shops, boarded up buildings and really quite scary eyeballing young people.

Still we ate like kings for a tenner each and were burpingly joyful on returning to the car and finding it still had all the wheels attached. We talked long of a big day out tomorrow and slept the sleep of the worthy.

Unfortunately 8am brought Noah out looking for a lost giraffe.

We bought coffee and watched DVDs in the cafe and silently hoped neither of us really wanted to go out and drown. Eventually we abandoned any pretence of riding in Wales, perambulating in a ziggyzag fashion back to Oxford via other possible riding spots. All of which looked fantastic if your imagination could insert “dry, warm and summery” when your eyes reported “slippy, wet and bloody freezing”.

I felt a little guilty about the whole thing until it occurred to me what a great mood had now rolled over my previously miserable form. I didn’t feel any better physically but mentally the excesses of the holiday period had been properly cleansed.

It’s still cold outside but the rain has stopped and the wind died down to a point where I no longer fear for the fence. I think I’ll take monolung out for a gentle ride.

Too Posh To Push.

On By AlexIn Bikes, Mountain Bike Riding2 Comments

My preparations for dragging my post festivities body pedalling a pre festivities new bike have been somewhat hampered by a medical complaint. It’s properly medical and I’ve certainly been doing all the complaining and quite right too. What one hand giveth, the other snatches away which medically transpires to a bastard snotty cold and the removal of a lung. The cold has taken up residence in my nose, head and, bizarrely, ears. It clearly intends to outstay it’s welcome sometime even past that of my in-laws. The lung has gone the other way, ravaged by winter Asthma and offering all the oxygenating possibilities of a moist paper bag.

I’m wondering what the cycling equivalent of a cesarean section is. Although there may not be an obvious parallel with those ladies who insist on having their vital internal organs rummaged through in a find the baby? game. But I too am too posh to push? and riding uphill? in this state is nothing more than twisted tautology. If I am to be spared, the nice man with the uplift truck will be operating, otherwise I feel I may be measuring myself up for something sturdy and long lasting. In pine.

But I’m going anyway. One because there’s at least a single Alex based anatomical feature that resembles a mule and, two, after a week cooped up with small children and latterly annoying relatives, the option is some extreme body burying patio action.

My role during this season of goodwill to almost nobody has been to remove the kids from the chimney on Christmas Eve while my wife has done everything else. This may seem a rather disproportional split but when you consider our chimney is buried behind a foot of plaster and two expensive kitchen cabinets, the split of resources suddenly becomes fairer.

Still on the upside, I bribed them to clean my bike.

Right dad, which bit do I wire brush?

They didn’t do a great job but at least it gave Carol sufficient time to relocate the remaining strands of her sanity. How’s she survived two small children and one rather larger (lager?) one for the last week is a mystery to me. She seems quite keen for me to bugger off though, which may or may not be unrelated to her studious examination of our life insurance documents.

Christmas Bonus

On By AlexIn Bikes, Mountain Bike Riding3 Comments

In that I managed to go riding before the onset of delirium, tedium and bedlam, as I naughtily consider my relatives. When the foggy stopping distances flipped from imperial to metric, we made haste in a northerly direction to the Freeride Mecca that is Chicksands. A pagentastic Saturday worship delivered a little mud, tacky but limitless grip and but a few other apostles. Our tempting apple was a warm car when compared to a cold outside, partially frozen beneath a steel gray sky.

But there’s only so long one can stare vacantly at a muddy field enlivened only by the pinging of a fast cooling engine before boredom takes hold. Closely followed by instant frostbite as cold metal stings warm flesh. Eventually after the ten commandments of faffing (of which more at some later day) had been completed, a worthy band of five went searching for the last ladder before Christmas.

Soon our Judas had been outed after declaring himself broken. In an attempt to protect a recently healed fracture on his wrist he performed an experimental dismount on the wooden Shore. His wrist survived but the deceleration trauma on his chest and face somewhat compromised the benefits. The rest of us complained of a litany of ailments raging from fear to hangover passing through cold, apathy and asthma. I was replete with the full set and things weren’t really going to plan until a quick suspension service at fettle central improves the bike if not the rider.

Nice Trousers!

Close your eyes and pray

Continue reading “Christmas Bonus” →

Merry Christmas to all my reader.

On By AlexIn Site Stuff1 Comment

Although if I were slanting towards Political Correctness, it’d be all Happy Winterval or Merry Sacrifice Your Goat with our best wishes. But I’m refusing to succumb to the bah humbug curmudgeon who’ll perfectly identify with my occasional inner Daily Mail reader.

It is the season to be jolly or in my case, pissed. The only thing Santa needs to bring me to make me happy this Christmas is a new liver. If he can leave the hangover in his sack, I’ll even forgive him the delivery of the in-laws after Christmas. I’m shying away from the itinerary but the kids gleefully tell me the entire related-by-marriage clan will descend on the 27th. I’ll adopt my normal pleasant smile while mainlining whatever is close to hand – be that beer, gin or the cooking brandy.

Assuming I don’t let myself down, let my family down, etc during that happy period, then two relation free days await on the trails of my choice. Looking at the long range weather forecast that’ll be somewhere close to a good pub serving three square meals a day.

Another rather less portentous anniversary is almost upon us. The hedgehog has been pickled for almost a year and you’ll be under-whelmed to hear that the backlog of drivel shows no sign of abating for 2007. With that also stamping my passport to official middle age, I expect the angst to be cranked up to a Spinal Tap 11. I can make no such promises for grammar or punctuation.

So whatever you’re doing, whoever you’re doing it to and whatever you’re doing it with, I’ll bid you happy holidays. It’s unlikely I’ll be in a fit state to type between now and the horror of going back to work.

But don’t worry, come January, I’ll make up for it.

Present Wrapping.

On By AlexIn Other stuff3 Comments

Bloody hell, I’m clearly some kind of retard with the patience of a two year old. My wife has wrapped presents for the entire family and, looking at a months wages under the tree, for the entire population of North Bucks.

She’s brilliant at it – the presents are wrapped crease free as if satin ironed, regardless of their difficult shape. My attempts favour a look last seen when an epileptic was presented with scissors, paper, sellotape and a strobe light.

There’s obviously a system. And just as obviously not one I’m ever going to be familiar with. I’m sat here with paper stuck painfully to my eyebrows. It looks like ground zero in Woolworths with wrapping paper, presents and assorted bows, cards and other stuff flung around the barn.

The issue has been exacerbated by my frantic last minute present frenzy once the Internet shops appeared to have shipped to everyone but me. This involved a horrid crush and scrum which went from bad to sodding awful once the power took the day off and it was all pre chip’n’pin card swiping. No one carried any cash and many of the assistants had never seen the mechanical carbon paper based system. It made me feel old. And impatient.

And then after spending the GDP of Guatemala during a guilt ridden sashay through Aylesbury, the postman finally chose that precise moment to deliver the rest of the presents.

So my question is this? Is it ok to just hand over the presents, beautifully presented, in a Tesco bag?

Wow. A mountain bike post.

On By AlexIn Bikes, Mountain Bike Riding7 Comments

It’s been a source of some gratification that I’ve seamlessly transplanted my rambling style from mountain bikes to all manner of other nonsense. Bypassing the old adage to write about what you know, instead I’ve written a shit load of drivel about stuff I know nothing about. What’s even more surprising is that you lot keep coming back to read it. I’m not sure if that’s encouraging or just plain scary.

Anyway, with a barn load of bikes and little excuse not to go riding, last weekend provided the perfect early winters day to detox my pie laden body. For reasons of apathy and antipathy, the core of my riding cluster has imploded to just the Bracknell Two?. Both riding proper manly hardtails but ensuing the lentalist nonsense that is singlespeeding to the power or retro. Honestly, the car park was littered with these machines lacking suspension, decent brakes and any form of obvious enjoyment.

It’s like the ancient sixties car population in Cuba except without any vestige of cool. Still I soon found myself cursing their simple, if difficult to pedal transmission, as rain soaked trails dispatched my gears to a dark and muddy place. My friend was suffering almost not as all since he has one of these fancy internal hub gears, and hadn’t spent a couple of hours fixing his bike the previous night. Yet again, in the face of all historical precedent, spanners were twirled with wild abandon in the mythical search for mechanical perfection.

Actual result in the cold, sober morning light was nothing more than a loose connection between shifting and gears. Cogs refused to engage as I desperately thumbed the shifter, and then viciously dropped three gears when I stamped angrily on the pedals. Luckily I was saved from a difficult head first dismount by a stout contact between helmet and handlebar.

Meanwhile, Nige having no trouble with the Cannondale Bastard? (so named because various non standard parts have been carefully angle grinded onto it’s once pristine frame) whooping and swooping through the slippy singletrack with nary a slip of gear of tyre.


Continue reading “Wow. A mountain bike post.” →

Today is the shortest day

On By AlexIn Pretentious nonsense4 Comments

Except it isn’t. The planetary tilt and the elliptical arc of the sun combine to shorten the days from the front, while sluggishly extending the daylight past four o’clock. But the facts are unimportant here, the Winter solstice is the cyclists’ poster child for lighter times ahead and represents the diametrically opposite emotion to the longest day.

But this day of little daylight has heralded the onset of winter which got in on the act a couple of days earlier. Outside of my window, Mandelbrot spirals are iced into spiders webs and a windless sky clamps the country in dense and freezing fog.

According to the Met Office, this is officially a good thing after an Autumn dominated by heavy rainfall and worrying temperatures. Apparently this was the warmest pre-winter season since records began, so in search of statistical satisfaction, I trawled through my own ride diaries for the last two years.

Abridging the raw data shows 2005 as bloody cold” and 2006 as bloody wet“. So we’re either facing a abnormal meteorological spike or the planet’s about to explode. Either way, the results are all around us with normally snow capped alpine peaks barely dusted with the white stuff.

I was proud of our stunningly proportional response to the devastating environment impact of human colonisation on a once unbroken world. Rather than showing one second of humility and searching for something in our life that stays our voracious appetite for destruction, instead we jump on the winged nemesis of polar ice caps and fly to North America where the snow is still falling.

Stewardship of the world for the next generations? I think probably not then. So maybe that’s what the airport closing fog is all about “ the planet has decided to take the matter into it’s own hands. If there is some precise smiting of the environmental disaster that defines many of the leaders of the free world, it could just be onto something.

The giving season

On By AlexIn Other stuff2 Comments

Giving up more like, a little like my partied out liver. The mass marketplace of Christmas lures “ mainly “ guilty parents into a feeding frenzy of panicked purchasing. How much is too much? What happened to the reasonableness gland that allows us to disappoint the little people when they want everything they see? And where the hell are we going to put it all?

I was hoping to introduce a one in, one out” warehousing system in our house but since three quarters of our family are closet hoarders, it was never going to fly. Actually not just closet but wardrobe, playroom, every flat surface, most of the floor hoarders would be more accurate.

When the great day finally arrives (normally about 4am in the morning with small children doped up on natural amphetamines and promising in their non lying voices that Santa has definitely been down the chimney) carefully wrapped presents are viciously exposed before being dumped in an ever steepening pile after the most cursory examination. The pile of packing screams global warming” and the small children scream That’s mine“.

Ours are actually quite well behaved now to be fair. But that’s because their mum has made the point that larcenous possession, inappropriate behaviour and a lack of gratitude will be met by confiscation and the sharpened rolling pin.

And once we’ve emptied shops of toys and bank accounts of money, there’s still the tricky dilemma of what to buy for each other. We’ve tried many of the standard approaches; buy nothing, set a limit, wait until they see something they like and random internet purchasing. None of it has been terribly successful but as a bloke you’re basically buggered from the start.

Buy something practical and you’re accused of a lack of romanticism and while I accept wallpaper paste AND a decorators apron may lack a certain Parisian edge, it’s exactly what we needed. Or buy jewelry/clothes/other expensive shit you don’t understand and it’ll be the wrong size/wrong colour/wrong make or a combination of all three.

What’s left? Novelty sex toys and/or jigsaws. The entrepreneur that patents the sex toy jigsaw is going to make a killing. Until then, I can throughly recommend a length trawl of ebay to find some of these horrors. All of these children’s toys have been banned because of the threat of death by just opening the box.

Me? Nice of you to ask, I’d quite like one of these.

External Image

You could argue that with a barn full of bikes, there is neither physical room or marketing niche to fit another one in. This is clearly a flawed argument; I need my full suspension bike, I need my cross country hardtail and I need my little jump bike. See how I easy refute your line of reasoning? I have a feeling that a longer game may have to be played with my long suffering wife.

Still worth a shot eh? Maybe with one of those Lawn Darts�”:)