Lost!

On By AlexIn Other stuff1 Comment

Not the nonsense on the TV which along with Big Brother, Love Island and I’m a total gimboid please humiliate me render me Amish amongst my hipper colleagues. Did you see what Coleen did last night?“/”No, unfortunately I was already booked to disembowel myself with a wet kipper and frankly it seemed to offer more scope for entertainment“

Anyway televisual snobbery apart, memorable things have been happening this week, unfortunately I appear to have lost the ability to remember them. Firstly my phone/pda/camera/watermelon thingybob jumped out of my trouser pocket and into an unused shoe. That can be the only reason why I found it there, after tearing around the house like an arthritic but still whirling dervish for a couple of hours. Those shoes in particular could, and probably should, be reclassified as weapons grade munitions due to a year of sweaty commuting. Amazingly the calendar/contact list/buzzsaw survived immersion in the noxious footbeds and provided sterling service until I lost it exactly twelve hours later.

How did that happen? I’ll get to it shortly but it is deserving of a unique entry. Well I think so anyway and currently embarrassment begets writer’s block.

Once re-united with my virus scanner/internet browser/nose and beard trimmer, so vexed was I with my memory loss that the intense concentration required to ensure it didn’t once more leap from my personage, saw me abandon a very expensive rain jacket on the train. I’m only telling you this now as the nice man at Chiltern Snailways (never have a bad word to say about ˜em, honest) found it by proxy and it’s now back in my happy grasp.

Continue reading “Lost!” →

Dwarves in the machine

On By AlexIn Other stuffLeave a comment

This is fantastic. A judge in the Philippines has been chucked off the bench for adding three mystical dwarves to his judging team. These are three dwarves that only he can see but they advise him on how to pass sentance. Amazingly he filed an appeal but slightly less amazingly it was thrown out on the grounds that “psychic phenomena had no place in the judiciary.”

Oh I beg to differ – wouldn’t that be ace; “my Lord, I now call Lord Such latterly of the Monster Raving Loonies who will exonerate me on every charge. Obviously not all of you may be able to see him” or “Any more ectoplasm in the courtroom and someone’s going to be in contempt whether I can see them or not“.

Although the judge in question is understandably downhearted at his failed appeal, he can be cherished in the knowledge that “From obscurity, my name and the three mystic dwarves became immortal”. That’s alright then.

Still at least the worst hasn’t happened in that “dalliance with dwarves would gradually erode the public’s acceptance of the judiciary as the guardian of the law, if not make it an object of ridicule.”

No we’ve got the British Justice System for that. Imaginary dwarves optional, sense of the ridiculous mandatory.

It’s all here

Football’s Back!

On By AlexIn Other stuff8 Comments

Great isn’t it? Deforestation of the Amazon precede the season’s openers with talking heads talking bollocks and deluded fans predicting feats of sporting heroism that in any other context would be categorised as ˜blatant untruths from diseased minds“. You know the kind of thing yeah, I know we finished bottom by thirty points, our manager was sacked for playing a lobster at centre forward and the ground was destroyed by a fallen satellite “ but I fancy us for Europe this year“

When you support a club like mine, all your best results come before a ball has been kicked – or again thinking of my home club, an opponent. Although support totally fails to capture my level of participation once the 1985-86 season terminated any actual turning up at the ground and then running away when the fighting started. This was in the days before all seater stadiums, instead four oblong sheds framed a white lined pasture that the cows had only recently dispensed with. Seats were seen as firstly rather middle class and secondly as ammunition. Occasionally if the butty van had run out of hotdogs (mining town, we had no need for abstract concepts, a hot dog was exactly that although warm road-kill offers a more descriptive summary), the shaven, sunken eyed hooligans with swastikas on their arms and hate in their eyes, used to eat the seats. Barking Mad as they were, I’d have to say it was a far safer culinary option that the sausage-inna-bun with Pirelli markings.

Sheffield was a two club city (ah the old jokes come flooding back: Best two clubs in South Yorkshire, United and Rotherham“, cue three days fighting and opportunistic looting) with Wednesday (a.k.a the pigs“, the trotters“, the grunters“, those big fucking lads in blue and white shirts, shit run for it“) having the best ground, the historical trophy provenance and the better team. United (a.ka. The blades“, The bottom of the league“, The team closest to administration“) had a long history without actually winning much, a lowly league position and a team of has-beens and never-likely-to-do-beens. I was queuing up a Sean Bean gag there but you’re spared. For now.

Obviously I supported United. Continue reading “Football’s Back!” →

Elbows Out!

On By AlexIn Bikes, Other stuff2 Comments

No, this is not some kind of splitter activity from a body splinter group questioning the value of articulating arm pieces and demanding a revolutionary new configuration where forearms are welded to shoulder blades. Obviously, I mean who else would even consider such a thing? Answer, quite a few people from my personal collection of ˜oddballs, screw-ups and gimboids’ of which my readers make up a sizable happy – if medicated “ proportion.

The real question is who would actually write it down AND consider it marginally amusing. Ah, well the sample size is somewhat smaller.

The mutant elbow is still 50{45ac9c3234d371044e23e276755ef3a4dde8f1068375defba7d385ca3cd4deb2} larger than it’s twin on the right side further distanced from healthy skin by such intense scarring and holing, it’s like a small, bloody sea of tranquillity. And it hurts far more than a week old injury should which would trigger normal people scampering down A&E to ensure no permanent damage. But I KNOW once I set a single foot over the threshold, it’ll be Christmas on the ward for me. Deformed and painful elbow versus full life Hotel California” Trauma. Absolutely no bloody contest.

The elbow of knobbly shame punctuates my day with irritating facets. Firstly it weeps like a man forced go fencepost shopping on a match day (personal experience? Possibly) leaking out thick gluttonous deposits with the stickiness of honey. Any fabric coming into the slightest contact with the toxic gloop instantly affixes itself like proverbial shit to a blanket. It’s only slightly less smelly and far harder to remove with the deep breath, PULL, scream” approach removing sufficient skin to give you a first hand (elbow?) view of how the bone works.

Once the bleeding has stopped, the hurting starts over every bump or manhole or curb. The steel bike at home cossets the offending limb like a old sofa but the harsh aluminium London bike twinned with the crenulated capital road system marks me down as a Tourettes victim with a vicious twitch. I considered riding one handed but since my last uni-ride attempt got me into this situation, it seems prudent instead grit ones teeth and stiffen ones upper lip.

By the time you read this, I may have drowned. The summer weather” outside is lashing rain at high velocity against the window panes and my rain jacket “ much like my elbow pads when I stacked last week “ is protecting the inside of the car. Short sleeved riding top and no mudguards is one approach to an inch of rainfall. Just not a very good one.

There has to be a part of my body that’s working. I hope it’s my liver. Still picking the scabs on my elbow is fun. Well you asked! Oh sorry, must have misheard.

A commute called Arthur.

On By AlexIn Bikes, Road Riding5 Comments

What kind of rotten English bestows a proper noun on an already poorly constructed sentence ? (actually if I was semantically Willy Waving, I believe it’s a adjectival modifier but I’m sure someone even more anal will correct me) Well this kind of rotten Englishman so he could then rollout an even more convoluted pun. Why is the commute called Arthur? Because it was arfur (half a) commute rather than a full one, see?

I’m thinking I probably should have saved us all the trouble.

Anyway, half a commute was the only available logistical option since my London bike had been interned in the barn for some Tender Loving Percussion (TLP for short, you know there is a really interesting point about acronyms¦ no? ok, I’ll stop but my lip is quivering in disappointment). It’s lived in harsh city conditions through a cold winter, hoovering up and internalising all the shit and crud which lines the strees of our grubby capital. After only 300 miles, the brake blocks were worn to a mil of COMING THROUGH, NO BRAKES!”, the bottom bracket was “ and since you’ve already spurned my attempt to educate, I’m resorting to the vernacular “ totally fucked and the rear cassette was an amorphous blob of salt encrusted tar, horse shit and the remains of slow pedestrians.

While you could change gear, by the time the recalcitrant mech had dragged a rusted chain across the grubby sprocket, your journey would have finished or the world would have ended – whichever came first.

Nothing moved on the bike, instead gears graunched, brakes squealed and cables shuddered. It took a few buckets or water heavily levelled with flesh stripping degreaser to return it to a happy state. Individual cogs surfaced from under choking gunk, cables whistled through silky outers and activating the brake actually conjugated that verb (puts willy away, clearly no-one cares). Even though the barn looked like a triage unit ravaged by sustained small arms fire and metal eating locusts, almost nothing was broken or buggered. Apart from me and that’s an ongoing issue. And when I say buggered, I’m not talking literally just so we’re clear.

So bashed up by bikes, I’ve been seriously considering an alternative get to work strategy “ for example this solution for ˜fat people who can’t be arsed to walk�? as I believe the company strap line goes.

The Segway GT on the golf course.

Continue reading “A commute called Arthur.” →

You’re as old as you feel.

On By AlexIn Other stuff8 Comments

Well that’s a relief because after the trials and tribulations of the last month, carbon dating would suggest a conservative estimate of about a 1000 years. It’s my birthday you see and the passing of time is definitely beginning to affect hair (almost gone), recovery periods (measured with a calendar) and neurosis’s (measured with a calculator).

Turning 38 last year was a bit of a wrench but at least it was just possible to deny impending middle age. 38 can be cheekily defined as mid to late thirties” but at 39, you just can’t keep living the lie. The best I’ve come up with is not quite 40” and not dead yet”

I don’t expect to have to go through this emotional hand wringing once the big four o arrives since I’ll be deep into therapy. However I did consider one last forlorn effort to attain a high level of fitness, a midriff that lacked a convex bulge and a diet that doesn’t consider peanuts and lager to contain all the essential food groups2.

But it’s become clear that even if this made me live longer, it’d make me miserable now, and I’d probably not thank myself forty years later. I’ve been a middle aged cynic ranting impotently at the world since the age of about twenty so realistically an octanarian version of Al is not somebody even I’d want to spend any time with.

I also spent a mad minute wondering how long my increasingly battered frame should be subjected to mountain bikes, or more specifically what happens when you crash mountain bikes. But then as some cleverer and yet more cheesy than I once said getting old is mandatory, growing old is optional”

So I’ll rage against the dying of the light a while longer. With a bag of crisps and a nice cold lager. And possibly some slippers.

Scotland was indeed bonny..

On By AlexIn Bikes, Mountain Bike Riding9 Comments

.. and while rain was sweeping the south, we were bathed in Scottish Sunshine. This is not the same as English sunshine as the Sun is rather shy and hides behind the clouds and often a short sharp shower reminds you that venturing out without a waterproof is an act of extreme foolhardiness. As was falling off on the second day while riding a knarly flat bit of trail. With perfect precision I ripped open the same elbow that had recently acquired a thin layer of scar tissue after the previous unplanned al/flint interface.

Luckily my riding buddies lashed me back together and through the medicinal power of alcohol I was able to stoically continue if at a slightly reduced pace. And with significantly more pain every time a bump was encountered which when you’re riding mountain bikes in Scotland is about every second. Fortunately I had sufficient body armour to protect a small frightened elephant against a nuclear attack, less fortunately, I’d left most of it in the car when gravity came calling.

While carefully wheeling the bike into our rather splendid accommodation, my bleeding and brooding elbow was perfectly positioned to slam into the door jam. For a while afterwards, I lay on the floor and tried to find my happy place. This proved to be in the pub opposite which sold painkillers under the name of “Shag-Nasties Bottom Biter” or whatever the local ale was called.

Here’s a picture taken by a friend who has kindly cut my head off. That was one course of action I was considering after impaling an open wound on the mortice lock.

DSCN0825.JPG

Those knee pads saw some action on the last day when I fell off twice within half a mile. The first in front of a ghoulish audience who applauded loudly my ham fisted attempt to navigate a rock garden (“plants” including spikey flint, hard edged boulder and nervous perennial). When I say applauded, of course I mean after I’d dispensed with the services of the bike and rock surfed to a grinding halt balanced precariously on, what I’m euphemistically referring to as, “the fruit basket“.

In a huff, I remounted the trusty steed and pedalled off without a backward glance. God knows where I was looking tho because a minute later, the whole sky and ground thing inverted and yet again the mean trail searched out uninjured limbs to bruise. Essentially I am now considering renting myself out as mobile scar tissue.

Still it was a fantastic week’s riding even if Easyjet provided me with no confidence in their ability to find a plane to take me home. Instead I hitched a lift in a mate’s camper van whose top speed would not trouble any form of speed camera but this was more than made up for in it’s fixtures and fittings. Nice cup of tea on the move, fridge with cold beer in it and enough space to get some decent kip. Probably should make it clear, I wasn’t doing the driving.

Back on the commuting bike tomorrow. Hopefully no one will try and kill me, it really isn’t necessary considering my recent policy of self harm 😉

Sassenachs Ahoy!

On By AlexIn Site StuffLeave a comment

The knee of extreme soreness will be teamed with the liver of serial abuse for a five day trip to the wilds of Southern Scotland. Riding is likely to be optional whereas drinking isn’t – however I shall be out there having it medium unless inclement weather dictates a shuffle to the nearest snug with a good book and better medical excuse.

I’m taking an electronic copy of the Scottish Venacular Dictionary which is rather more amusing that it is work safe. Consider yourself warned.

The hedgehog shall lie idle and unstuffed which is probably a relief for everyone but come Monday tales of my daring riding, balletic bike control and all round muscular athleticsm shall once again stain guiless electrons with outrages fabrication.

Failing that, I’ll post some pictures but since two cameras have coincidentally exploded while in my hands, I’ve been banned from taking the new one. And I shall be so far behind my friends due to a complete lack of fitness masked by a whole load of bacon sandwiches and lager, expect panaramic shots of deserted trails and painful looking climbs.

Of all the lovely places in Scotland we shall be visiting, I shall be making strenuous efforts not to include Dumfries A&E.

Hospital Diary: Day 4

On By AlexIn Bikes, Other stuff5 Comments

Wednesday.

01:00
Bladder clearly been replaced with thimble during operation

02:00
A small thimble at that

04:00
Consider making myself comfortable in toilet. Sadly nothing left to read so spend most of the hour making my way there and back.

05:00
Finally bladder is empty and edge into a decent sleep.

06:00
Wake Up Call. God I’m still here.

For breakfast there’s a non optional hurty bastard antibiotic cocktail which – with a cocked eyebrow to the God of Irony – leaves me in no position to select any of the culinary delicacies from the proffered menu. How things have changed, my last hospital visit (some 25 years previously) was during the reign of terror where the chance of adding serious intestinal diseases to anything you brought in with you were about fifty-fifty. The food’s way better now but you’ll get MSRA so progress of a sort.

07:00
The word on the street is my release is dependant on a knee articulation of 25 degrees or more. Can currently manage about 3 degrees and this includes a homage to the Gibb brothers reprising “Staying Alive” lyrics adjusted to “ow, ow, ow flaying around”.

07:30
In trundles the happy trolley. Couple of their finest and I’m perkily rotating the knee to an angle that half an hour before was just an escapist fantasy.

Cheerfulness obviously an anathema to this morning’s nurses so they retaliate by increasing the flow on the pain drip. It works, my entire arm goes numb and it’s my drinking arm. Hopefully it’s not a permanent affliction.

08:30
I ask the quack what they used to clean out my knee. He refuses to tell me on the grounds that I asked and he’s far too important to answer. However, my inclination to lamp him for being such an arse is put on hold as he breezily dismisses me from taking up useful bed space. My knee’s played a blinder under the cover of strong drugs and he’s convinced I should darken their towels no more.

08:31
Ring Carol, ask if she can come and get me whenever it’s convenient.

08:33
Ring again and enquire if she’s left yet. Receive shrift that is on the wrong side of short.

08:45
‘Discover that bloke who turned up last night has a kidney complaint that means he can never drink again. He�s also due in again in September to have his tendons sliced to declaw his arthritic hands.

He’s just turned 21. Poor bugger.

09:30
The only thing that separating me from freedom are an additional raft of poxy antibiotics that are buried somewhere in the hospital pharmacy. Stump up and down the ward waiting for them to arrive. They don�t. Carol dispatches herself to hunt them down if only to shut me up. Twenty minute later she’s back clutching her prize having chased them round the hospital.

11:00
Thank Nurses. Make a fast hobble for the door before they change their mind.

11:05
Am reacquainted with Outside. Lovely experience, few sick and dying people make it this way. Car parked miles away but the slow hobble under the summer sun is really quite lovely. Just managed not to get run over while reintroducing myself to traffic.

11:15
Arrive home

11:16
Open first beer. And relax.

That’s an experience I’m keen not to repeat. Three weeks later and after one ride on the road bike, it seems the healing is almost complete. But it’ll take a little longer for the mental scars to fade. I’m wondering just nervous, slow and uncommitted the first proper off road trail will make me. Still the way I ride, nobody’ll probably notice. Except me and I can kid myself.

The NHS is an interesting organisation. A great idea, badly executed. Some super people but just not enough of them. I can’t comment on whether private health care is that much better but they are paying me£150 for the non sullying of their rather posher hospitals.

Congestion Charge

On By AlexIn Other stuff, Pretentious nonsenseLeave a comment

Apparently plans are afoot (although maybe awheel would be a better description) to increase congestion charges, car tax and flight surcharges. Such a move should ensure the private companies and government can increase the indirect tax burden by extolling their green credentials. I’m sure if the melting Greenland ice mass had any kind of facial features, it’d be wearing a happy expression and possibly a hat at a jaunty angle. And the again, maybe “ if we now extend it’s humanism to include half a brain “ it’d realise that this is nothing more than windsock politics mated incestuously to sanctimonious sound bites.

But that’s not what this is about. Although I may return to it later once I’ve calmed down a bit.

This morning the train suffered congestion. Now those of you born after Jimi Hendrix died (i.e. of a proper age) may remember a British Rail advert where an InterCity 125 rolled unconcerned past lines of stranded vehicles unmoving due traffic congestion. Well I’d like to take somebody to task about this although this is extremely unlikely since everyone in so called authority abandoned the failing railway with their fat state funded pensions years ago.

Nevertheless as Viz so memorably put it: someone should be told. Can someone explain to me how a train track can suffer congestion? It’s not like a few extra trains from another operator can be slipped in is it? Or maybe they can Yeah, Hi it’s Ron from GWR, Paddington is a right shit hole this morning, can we stuff a few of ours in Marylebone? They’ll be a beer and some pork scratchings in it for you”

There can be no other logical explanation other than an alien abduction of a platform or the timetabling software generously allocating terminating berths in some kind of fantasy configuration: yes 4 in the main platform, two on the roof and one in fourth dimensional phase space.

Ah the timetable or an aspirational vision” as Chiltern Railways like to think of it. Not even lightly bolted to the planet we call reality. The driver this morning differed from our normal happy go unbothered there will be a three day delay because the executives are sorting out their bonuses but I don’t care as I get paid anyway” being supplanted by Marvin the Paranoid Android on anti depressants I’m really sorry you’ve been abandoned in this dark dank tunnel, it’s probably congestion but who the hell knows, nobody tells me anything and I’ve read Austin and Keats but they just treat us like robots¦” at which point I turned up the MP3 player and waited for nightfall.

This does put me in mind of graffiti scrawled on a platform around the same time of the lying advert. Satirically lampooning BR’s timetable, it suffixed the boast 25 Trains leave from this station for London EVERY DAY” with Yeah, but only seven get back“.

Graffiti is not what it was.