I am trumpet.

On By AlexIn Bikes, Mountain Bike Riding, PhotographyLeave a comment

An odd way to join the first person singluar of ‘to be’ to a windy noun but sense shall be made, read on. Trumpet is a real place as well as an instrument, although this morning it swung between the two, hiding between rolling hills and mocking me as an instrument of navigational trickery.

In two hours, I visited it a total of four times, adding it a collection of random small villages (Much Marcle: Twice, Pixley: three times, Aylton: never saw it but attacked it from the West, East and South in a one man pincer movement) on my explorations for some local singletrack.

I had most of the map and half a GPS. Add that to my imperfect sense of direction and dodgy internal gyroscopes and what could go wrong? Well I did find two ends of an interesting looking bridleway, but never the join, I also discovered many friendly people to orientate my map, before kindly sending me back from whence I’d come. I also lost 45 increasingly worrying minutes crashing about in a small wood, trying not to fall into a stream.

Exploring Exploring

Eventually I arrived home, one hour later than planned, nettle stung to buggery, slightly more knackered than a man attempting to summit 7000 feet of nearly Welsh climbing probably should be, and in need of a medicinal beer. Since it was only 10:30am, I settled for bumper mug of Guatemalan Elephant* and a satisfied expression.

Because when I finally found the woods, there was more untrod singletrack in there that you could shake a stick at. Although, quite a muddy stick it must be said. Possibly not all legal for cycling but with no evidence of any other human activity, I’m sure it’ll be fine. Unless I get lost again when I might possibly starve and have my eyes pecked out. Not that such a mental image was glued to my inner eye while my outer eye could see nothing but trees – oh no.

This is mere displacement activity for the horror of tomorrow. Nige, Frank and Andy Tracklogs are converging on the log later and we’re off to the Cider Press for a couple of sharpeners before dinner. I ask again, what could possibly go wrong?

Cider Exploring

If I were a betting man, I’d wager a kidney on the next entry including the phrases “Never Again” “Reamed Arse” and “Writing this from the Hospital“.

* this is a blend of coffee. Although Random does a pretty good impression when attempting to quietly cross a room.

MV40

On By AlexIn Bikes, Mountain Bike Riding, Other stuff, Road RidingLeave a comment

Hilly. Oh so hilly.

That’s what is says against my name in the roll of (the soon to be) dead. It seems the Marin Rough Ride entry system took one look and my date of birth and consigned me to Veteran status. Hence the V. The remainder of the mnemonic roughly translates to “old, fat and useless“.

This was brought home to me during a recce of the ten mile commute that delivers sweaty’Al* to Ledbury station. From there, Brum is a smidge over an hour away and only a escalator shoulder carry separates me from playing with the city traffic. This worries me not at all after surviving London for over two years, but I am mildly perturbed that bikes and commuters can share the same prime time train service.

Try that on Chiltern Railways and they’ll throw you in front of a passing train and pike your head – in plain view of all the other passengers – as an grisly deterrent. Anyway the commute looks fun, deserted roads, a cracking single/cycle track through Ledbury and a pub stop one mile from home. One thing tho, it’s bloody hilly.

* as there is no BLOODY WAY I am doing it in Winter.

Land of the Hedgehog!

On By AlexIn Other stuff1 Comment

You may think this post is just an excuse to post a picture of a hedgehog. Good call ;)

You can imagine my delight that Ross-On-Wye was known – from the 6th Century – as Ergyng. This does indeed literally translate to Land of the Hedgehog. Couple of problems with that; firstly the last two books I read on the History of Britain cast significant doubt that the Celts ever invaded. Or indeed existed as a defined race back 1500 years ago. Second, Saxons and then Normans changed the name twice more, and none of the new designations translate to anything snuffly and prickly.

Never mind, the oldest building in town has a hedgehog* and the little fella is cheekily presented on many a commercial emporium. My impulsive commitment to hand over real money to anyone sporting a hedgehog** has proved rather rash. So far I’ve eaten four cakes, three pasties, a brace of ice creams and am now the proud owner of a concrete mixer***

Still good Karma nevertheless and a fantastic excuse to sample the local pies. Got to go, feel the urge for another one.

* Picture of one obviously. Not one nailed to the town hall. Not since 2002 anyway.

** Not to be confused with the tragic haircut of the mid 1980s. A challenging combination oft he Mullet and the Mohican. It never really caught on.

*** Not quite. Carol convinced me the purchase of a small screwdriver was more appropriate.

You cannot be serious?

On By AlexIn Bikes, Mountain Bike Riding, Photography11 Comments

A very, very Tired Al. And quite a young one!

John McEnroe was the angriest young man in the world back then. Watching my own kids arguing – through the medium of chucking stuff at each other – makes me wonder if they’ve secretly been watching Wimbledon DVD’s from the 1980s. But, of course, this isn’t about them, it’s all about me and my never ending faith in bullshit over ability.

It all started when Andy “Tracklogs” Shelley* cluster bombed my Inbox with exploding text shrapnel. When the debris settled, words such as “Marin Rough Ride“, “Next Weekend“, “Not far from you” and “Fancy it?” were left as collateral damage. I immediately emailed fellow survivors of our 2004 lucky to be alive escape to remind me of the horror and suffering that a 72k/7000feet of climbing course can inflict on a non alien.

However, I failed to add the rider that their replies should be couched in terms of “ARE YOU ON CRACK? STRIKE DOWN THE HEATHEN SHELLEY OR AT LEAST MARK HIM AS SPAM“. They have both cautiously considered attending themselves. What madness is this? Don’t you remember? Here’s an extract from 2004:

“I’m hoping the worst is over. It’s not. The next climb refracts riders as light through a prism and it’s clear I’m in serious trouble. There’s just two of us at the back now and I’m coveting Nigel’s full suss because every rut is a Hobson’s choice of an energy-sapping out of the saddle move or a seatpost up the arse. We’re 42km in on a grassy climb and I’m starting to hate it but it’s about to get much worse. Twenty minutes later, I’m all on my own, one broken chain, two punctures, three sense of humour failures. I finally free the chain from behind the cassette by dint of jamming my bloodied hand in there for the twentieth time. Streams of riders come past before I finally get back on the bike, then my hamstring cramps up **”

There’s so much more of the same here and the picture propping up this post was my pre-40 self looking totally knackered. I am probably no fitter, certainly quite alot older, definitely less motivated and generally more rained on. The upside is that my extensive bike collection includes a perfect foil for such madness. I speak of the legend that is Roger the Pink*** Hedgehog. But I’d hate it. I sit here and think it’s doable, but secretly I’ll admit it’s going to hurt. Alot and for a long time.

And yet, and yet… It’s only 30 miles away, there’s a blouse-out option at 48k, I cannot do worse than the trauma 7hr20 minutes back in 2004. It’s a great course.

I am not serious, but I’m sort of tempted.

* A man so fit he refuses to accept that any MTB ride can be less than eight hours long. In the Peak District. In Winter. He may not be of this planet.

** It’s true you see. I have actually curbed my rambling style since then. No honestly, read the rest if you don’t believe me/have half a weekend to spare.

*** Lively Purple. Just didn’t scan as well.

Dragon Flies.

On By PhotoIn Other stuff, Photography2 Comments

.

FoD etc (13 of 16), originally uploaded by Alex Leigh.

Not a proper fire-breathing, talon clawed dragon of course. It is not quite that rural out here, and anyway we have the Mother-in-Law for that kind of scaly action*

Actually that’s not even a dragon fly. It’s a damsel fly that has some sexual attribution issues as it is a boy damsel. This is the kind of thing you need to learn way out west, along with:

a) A sheep sheerer can “do” 200 animals in a 10 hour day. Not even at my peak as a proper Yorkshireman could I even get close to that. We may be talking different “do” tho!

FoD etc (16 of 16) FoD etc (15 of 16)

b) The riding is pretty damn fine. Ian – Scorpion Pit Overlord of this Parish – took me into the dark woods, before telling me that wild boars still gored the odd innocent MTB’r and his ring tone was Dueling Banjo’s. I think he was joking…..

FoD etc (1 of 16) FoD etc (2 of 16)

c) Wild Geese make more noise than braying sheep. Both make ALOT of noise.

d) Show a 7 and 9 year old a deep pond with a jetty protruding into the deep and end they will throw themselves in. Even if the temperature is willy-shrinking cold.

FoD etc (9 of 16) FoD etc (14 of 16)

The Big Log is rather a nice way to sidle into rural life. Tomorrow, tho, I shall be striking out on the voyage of discovery that is the Midland Mainline service. A sneak peak at Ledbury station created a mental jolt that maybe Chiltern Railways weren’t that bad after all!

FoD etc (6 of 16) FoD etc (3 of 16)

It did however provide an opportunity for my London based fiscal model to be truly challenged. “How much is it to park here then?” / “Pay to park? No one would do that round here” was the response from a man who sidled off throwing a worried “wooah lunatic in the town” glances over his shoulder.

* Carol, it’s a joke ok? Don’t put me out with the cat!

Move it…

On By PhotoIn Other stuff, Photography5 Comments
IT professional at work, originally uploaded by Alex Leigh.

.. Or not. Regular hedgehoger’s will be painfully familiar with my hatred for everything associated with marketing. Especially if that something answers camply to the name Maurice, retains a love of red braces, BMW ragtops and a penchant for method acting the pretentious fucknugget. And it is becoming increasingly apparent* that not only was my carefully argued hypothesis that “Anyone describing themselves a marketing executive should forcefully be removed from the gene pool” was absolutely bob on, it is spookily increasing in accuracy.

So, the phrase “We’ll assign our crack** team to your move. They’ll have it packed and moved before you can say ‘Didn’t we used to have a TV?’” was cynically prodded and declared to be nothing more than a lie to win the business. But still we decided to press on, even if the removal fellas really didn’t.

The entire sorry episode is documented down vvvvvv there. But only because internalising the last three days may very well have caused the spontaneous combustion of an Al. Still it’s all good now, surrounded, as we are, by bleating lambs, fighting geese and a bottle of decent wine. And – in line with greats such as Prince and Gazza*** – I have changed my name and shall now only answer to my new moniker.

Cabb’Alage has left the South East 🙂

Continue reading “Move it…” →

We’re in*

On By AlexIn Other stuffLeave a comment

Much to tell, not much time to do so. It was the extended train wreck I had been dreading. So far we’ve lost

a) The will to live
b) Three meals due to packing, shouting, being rained on, travelling, etc
c) Our way on country roads after SatNav was scared by a passing bullock
d) The Television**
e) My faith in wireless routing
f) The South East of England.

More soonish. The incident of the catshit in the nightime is well worth a re-telling.

* for a given value of “in”.
** Or to be more precise, the removal company has gained a nice 37inch LCD

The tool wall is no more :(

On By PhotoIn Other stuff, Photography2 Comments
Moving (6 of 9), originally uploaded by Alex Leigh.

The weapon of mad (and angry, and dangerous) destruction has been tearfully* decommissioned. Who knows when again we shall see its’ like again? From the skewed priority list recently wafted under my financial snout, the workshop/drinking den/MTB Guantanamo Bay occupies a lowly position in terms of new house** projects.

Moving (9 of 9)Moving (5 of 9)

Sure you all know – and I could argue – that the construction of a shrine to the tool wall is FAR more important than fixing the heating before winter and buying beds for the kids, but Carol is a woman on the edge right now. Any more stressed, and it’ll be on the ledge and ready to jump.

This house is ours for only one day more. For all the happy memories we have of the old place, here and now we’re really starting to hate it. There is nothing left in terms of living stuff but half filled boxes and no emotions other than blind panic.

But a quick reflective glance confirms that no room is the same size or even shape when compared to the house we moved into. It has more roofs and none of them leak. The heating works in seasons other than summer, the garden is a riot of colour and the barn is no longer a dilapidated shack.

We bought most of a wreck and transformed it – over ten years – into something we really wanted to live in. And, at about that precise moment, decided to sell it. So while that made some kind of grown up sense back then, right now it sits firmly between sadness and guilt.

Still, there is little point in moping. This move is 32 wheeled, 50 ton sodding juggernaut and it’s going to roll me flat unless I get my shit together, and start helping.

I have a ‘private’ picture of the tool wall which I’m keeping in my wallet. That’s ok isn’t it?

* because – in a final act of tool brutality – the claw hammer embedded its’ pointy end in my knee,. This followed a doomed attempt to prize it from the position of authority it merited in the centre of the tool wall.

** We’ve set an optimistic deadline of moving in 21st of June. I’ve never seen a solicitor laugh before 🙁

Excel-ent

On By AlexIn Other stuffLeave a comment

The community of blogging knows – if only it were prepared to admit it – that our vanity publishing offers nothing other than recycled news and the taudry outpourings of our bitter minds. Hence my current fascination with repackaging random Internet links in an attempt to confuse volume with content.

But this is great – not only because it exactly demonstrates the point that the world wide web is nothing more than a collaberation tool for slackers, but also because there’s a few seriously amusing graphical nuggets in there.

Here’s one of my favourites.
Amusing, yes?

And because we crave duplex interaction, here’s one I’ve mailed in for recognition.


Niche I grant you and yet as close to the truth as lies, damn lies and statistics can get you.

Boxed in.

On By AlexIn Other stuffLeave a comment

It’s all gone a bit dark in the land of the hedgehog. The primary reason is where we used to have windows, we now have boxes. The same can be said of the floor. And the stairs. And any flat surface not currently occupied by plant, animal or small child. There is some universal – yet baffling – scientific law that proves the boxing of items quadruples the volume of space they take. For example, a smallish bookcase can easily overwhelm a brace of boxes that appear to have fallen off a container ship.

And yet in a confusing reversal, an entire bed can be reduced to 14 matchsticks and a few pocket screws. The process is complicated by a goodly portion of our belongings being shipped to a house we’re not allowed to live in, while the remainder shall be delivered to the big log – assuming the removal truck can navigate the tiny entry road.

There is – I’m prepared to admit – some latitude for things to go very badly wrong. Legions of unwanted boxes containing ten years of kleptomania could quickly overspill the log, while useful stuff such as underwear and bikes are dispatched to who knows where. The bikes are a problem all on their own, there is seditious talk of a two bike quota being rigourously enforced with the remaining *ahem* four being quarantined in a no-go-Al-Zone.

This was obviously distressing to me: “Take a leg woman, a leg I say. Not a bike, no I can’t be without them“. Considering the plethora of locks and shackles returning home from far flung commuting stops, I could simply chain myself to the bloody lot and demand satisfaction. Except, I suspect, Carol would just leave me there looking rather silly*

So while the house is an obstacle course policed by hard edged boxes ensuring nightime navigation is a painful experience, the barn is as yet untouched. Two reasons; firstly I am desperately clinging onto any riding collateral before we move and secondly there was a slight issue with my attempts at packing. After Carol had packed 50 boxes, I rolled up my sleeves and pitched in with a big 2.

2 not adhering to a packing protocol in which the phrase “flip drawer over and shovel in” is curiously absent. On completion of a repack, her attempts to shift them was stymied by the contents vigorously falling out in line with the laws of gravity. Because – in line with the laws of stupidity – I had forgotten to tape up the underside. Easy mistake – anyone could have made it but because it was me, I am reduced to grumpily pointing at stuff and accepting it is unlikely It will ever be seen again.

It was almost as if I had planned it that way, I hear you thinking. Nasty, suspicious minds you have there 🙂

* Which would be even sillier than I am now. So really quite silly indeed.