Gey Dreich, and so is Royal Mail.

Another gey dreich day for the citizens of the 'driest county in England.'  If I wished to live under a perpetual cloud with added rain I would have stayed in Edinburgh.  In fact yesterday was one of the frequent bright sunshine days with a bitter cold wind meaning any use of the fridge was unnecessary. 
Later the normal conditions returned.  
However the rain bringing down the leaves, stimulating the earth and drenching the flora around us does bring out a rich mixture of aromas not all being unpleasant.  Indeed a walk across the park enriches the mind and stimulates the brain as the fruits of creation, even those turning overnight into compost, release their contents.  
The light changes with the clouds above and the colour of fallen leaves below, even though this camera could not replicate this here.  A wee stab of light from the hidden sun was called upon but refused to show, it appears ten thousand feet of cloud blot out the sun.  The distant mist is not unpleasant to look at, though the woman who puts out her washing may disagree, and while the rain stays out of the holes in my shoes it was not disagreeable to walk amongst miserable dogwalkers with happy dogs and occasional Blackbirds seeking a late breakfast.

  
After the rain decided to cease to some extent I hobbled off to the Post Office.  I had to resend one  of my books to another part of Essex as someone had nicked one from the envelope!  The poor lass called me to say she received the envelope and letter but the book was missing, the envelope ripped down the side.  My work is so precious postmen are stealing it!  The problem it appears from my experience is the main sorting offices.  Here as many as 400 are employed, some of who's backgrounds are not always checked very well, and opportunities for self enrichment do occur.  Local offices suffer this also, our local recently lost one man who had been at it for years, a man I knew and like everyone else trusted totally!  He is now serving 16 months!  Missing mail is usually nothing to do with your local postie, almost all goes from the main sorting office.  Someone there is at least learning something, that I do not enclose money in envelopes.  
However on the way back I met a postwoman doing the round she has had for years.  I have done this and it is a difficult walk, on a steep hill, with houses placed in awkward positions, lots of small slopes which weary the legs, and a finish that is most despairing to those who have to do it.  Not the worst I have done but this lass is not as young as she was and deserves something better.  
The thing is she was pushing one of these appalling trolleys.  For reasons difficult to comprehend Royal mail, now sold off on the cheap to the private sector (Did you know that this government enabled some friends to buy many shares on the promise to keep them for a while to stabalise the shares. George Osbornes 'Best man' at his wedding was one such.  He took many shares and sold them the next day for £35 Million! ), decided to take away the postmen's bikes and replace them with these trolleys. An absurd idea for many and this lass suffers from it.  It is now impossible for her to do her work in the time allotted.  On a bike it took five minutes to reach the first drop, it also took about five to return to the depot at the end, both journeys pushing the trolley take around ten to fifteen minutes for the same journey, that's thirty minutes lost from the start!  Between drops there are open spaces, walking between these is slower than using a bike, especially going downhill, and I guess this change of equipment has added an hour to a round. How stupid is that?
The claim from Royal Mail that this method avoids posties carrying heavy bags and suffering back pain is rubbish as they suffer pushing trolleys uphill, through busy pavements also.  Cycle accidents are avoided this way, but trolley ones are not?  In short it was a gimmick,  the bikes have been rounded up and sent to Africa as a piece of corporate charity.  This sounds good but not at all like Royal Mail.  I suspect someone there is now selling them at high price and lining his pockets.  
The mail delivery is slower, the posties unhappy, (in spite of the good for nothing union agreeing to these trolleys nobody wanted them) and with Christmas upon us we will soon see them struggle through the rain, sleet and snow all the while expecting a tip!  
Royal Mail, like all privatised companies, is a mess and it will only get worse. 

Maudlin Monday

The young nurse (they are all young to me) at the surgery mentioned how lucky I was to be retired. "I'm busier than ever," said I, not letting on that I was lying.  I would be busier if I did all those jobs that need doing however!  So passing me fit and demanding I return in two weeks to prove I am still alive I made my way back to the laptop to continue rewriting the writing that I wrote before.  This indicated many mistakes so it was lucky I did this but not so lucky that any time I moved the format changed and required resetting.  Why must computers behave like women I ask you?  

Sitting here chewing my dried dates, figs and small red things I notice that the healthy 'Sweet Papaya Cubes' are 42% papaya and 58% sugar!  How healthy is that?  Natural sugar is one thing but I wonder... Still I suppose all this is doing me good, oranges, apples, lemons, fish, fish in tins, frozen fish, if I eat any more I will grow fins!  I did manage to pump up the tyres on the bike and soon I will be trundling along on it.  The poor thing has lain still so long it is filthy.  I should clean it first but canny be bothered!  It will work, I hope.

I have the eye of the tiger, the heart of a lion, and a lifetime ban from the zoo.

I ignored the media today for the most part.  Too much propaganda, too much for my brain especially as I had so much that I wasn't doing!  Some got done by the simple means of not trawling through the press to comment on English dickheads sayings.  I even cleaned the sink!  It is a white colour right enough! Tomorrow I will report to the museum, possibly take the laptop to finish what I am writing and spend the rest of the day putting David Cameron clones in their place.  

  

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Sorting Out files

Trieris, a replica of an Athenian ship.

Computers are wonderful machines, this wee laptop I use these days can be quite slow but it does the job.  I should say it may be slow but that is because I am listening to the radio at the same time and some things go slow.  One reason it is slow may well be the amount of stuff on it, therefore I have spent the entire day wandering through the files deleting things in preparation for downloading onto disc the items I wish to keep or don't require often.  I discovered the other day my pictures were somewhat messed up.  That is I had doubles and trebles of some, others had moved to other files by themselves, honest, and many left me completely baffled as to why they were put there in the first place.  

   Oxford Street 1897

Some of the pics were quite interesting, this one appeared from somewhere, who knows where, but shows a different view of Oxford Street than that seen today.  You will note some obvious similarities, rain, crowded pavements, shops, and generally dreary appearance overall.  The main difference I suppose it that the photographer can stand in the middle of the road and remain alive....if indeed he did remain alive!

Flitch Way

Some pictures reminded me that Spring sunshine is not far away, well in theory anyway.  I am also reminded that I used to cycle every day, now hardly ever. The weather is against it, icy cold today and looking likely to stay that way all week, the energy appears lacking and the desire also. As the mornings get lighter my desire will return.  Then I rise from beneath the duvet and seek the bright lights outside, unless it rains of course!  The cycling early in the morning, before dog walkers and folks heading for work arise, is enjoyable.  If I go out earlier all sorts of people block the way, hinder my progress and selfishly consider themselves entitled to be there, as if!  

   
This is a self portrait by Lady Clementina something or other, a lass who took to photography in the middle of the nineteenth century.  If I could remember more I would tell you what it is but my dim mind tells me she took pictures of her friends, and women dressed like that make very good photographs, but from her Kensington home she made the most of her hobby.  You had to be amongst the wealthy to be a photographer in those days.  The cost of the camera, the glass negatives, the time and staff required to develop the pictures all combined to make photography very expensive indeed.  George Eastman, and those like him, did the world a huge service by developing his 'Box Brownie' and other cheap cameras. The delight of seeing a successful photograph, no matter how inept to a professional, is just that a delight!

Most of my time however was spent amending the huge amount of Great War pictures that somehow got split into a variety of places.  So many duplicates, so many I canny mind obtaining.  The laptop is not the easiest machine for a hamfisted eejit to operate and the files kept disappearing into one another. This led to more confusion as I fought to get them back where they belonged only to find I had confused two similar files.  Like hitting your head on a brick wall it was so good when it was all over, at least I hope it is now.

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Ichabod and I

Ichabod, the bike that is, and I struggled up the old railway early this morning before my mind was wide enough awake to realise what I was doing.  My knees are now well able to explain the short trip, and loudly at that!  A chap I know belongs to one of those cycling groups, you know the type, helmets, shorts, bright tight jerseys and riding bikes costing several hundred pounds, well he was commenting on their 'run' of just over a hundred miles.  They had done a bit more the day before!  These imitation Tour de France types sometimes come past here, and if on telly I will watch it myself.  Men like the idea of being tough or strong enough to ride up hills and speed along straight rods, always comparing the time between your past time and some other superstars.  Incidentally I watched a programme featuring Clare Balding, a lass referred to by one man as 'Dyke on a Bike,' cycling around the hill of Devon in one of those excellent short travel programmes.  Indeed I like this type of thing and Balding does present herself well here.  However she mentions the small point that she was on a 'short run,' of just 30 miles!  I considered this during my ride up the slope and calculated that by turning back I would get home after completing 3 miles.  My knees agreed that was far enough today!

Farmer Jones will be happy that in spite of the rain his crop is succeeding this year.  I am claiming this is wheat but I expect you experts will tell me it is something completely different, like mango or the like.  His wide field looks in quite good nick in spite of the refusal of the council to allow him to sell some fields to a builder who wants to create 500 homes there.  Luckily even our Councillors are too busy planting said 500 houses on a different farm to care for him.  I am glad as this would spoil the old railway for many of us.

It seems like years since I have been up here and the rain has developed the vegetation somewhat!   This stuff lined the path all the way up, in spite of being curtailed by the Rangers who have stopped it encroaching the entire path.  There is something refreshing about breathing in such an atmosphere (unless you have Hay Fever or Asthma I suppose), listening to the birds singing, beasties rummaging through the undergrowth and cheerily allowing occasional cyclists to rush past as they must get to work before eight.  How I love not having to do that these days.  I miss the good bits, the people, the routine but not the hassle, office politics, grumpy folks, and of course the public!  

  
How much better this looks when greenery is everywhere, also when the way home is downhill!

Occasional remnants of the old railway.  A sign to indicate the rise and fall of the track ahead.  Just ride a bike pal and you soon find how far the track rises and falls!  

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Bike or Horse?

So the sun has shown up again today.  The weather was hot when I hobbled across the park, bar the northerly wind of course.   Once out of that it was indeed hot.  Just the sort of day to pedal the bike about, travel up the old railway, early of course, or wheel around the back roads.  It may even be similar tomorrow.  Naturally I am not fit enough for this.  The bug still has me coughing, the calf is still to touchy to cycle with although I have attempted some exercise, my weight tells me I have to!  Warm weather is what we sick folks require at this moment.  How light the head becomes when the sun shines, it chases away those depressive feelings some suffer, cheers the heart, and sadly, encourages young men to play bad music loudly from their cars as they pass, windows wide open!  The show offs in their open topped BMWs, vintage Jaguars and such like will be out at the weekend, they will be making money today, probably from the likes of you and me.  The weekend will see them gather wherever they can show us their wallet I suspect.  Not that I'm jealous in any way, obviously.  Once I get the bike cleaned, oiled, tyres pumped, seat adjusted, and the energy levels up then I will get out there and watch the rain clouds gather....

Someone preferred this method of travel this afternoon, and the weather was there for her.  Just married at the register office and driven around to the hotel for the booze up reception and  fight family gathering afterwards.  It strikes me that being taken around the streets in the sun by Brougham would be a pleasant experience.  (That isn't a Brougham by the way) A slow meander through country lanes, rather similar to cycling but without all the effort, a warm sun and good company, that would make a nice day out.  As long as others do the work!

6:30am Bike Ride

What a wonderful sight to see, blue sky and sunshine early in the morning!  The fact that my fingers froze so I could hardly hold the camera is of secondary concern.  The freezing mist dwelt in the folds of the hills as the sun sprung up.  The colour was a deep red but sadly my pictures cannot show just how red it was.  A bright scarlet ball rising above the trees and slowly evaporating the mists.  Being early few were about, and that is an advantage.  One or two walking dogs, who care nothing about the weather it appears, one or two grudgingly heading for work.  This early often allows folks to mutter "Morning" as they pass, although there is always a woman, with a big dog, who looks away, nose in the air, as you pass.  Does she know me....?

It is so good to be out on the bike again.  My bones are creaking like an aged barn in a gale but  being out in a part of the country does you good.  The birds flit through the trees, pairing up and preparing the nests for the soon to be new arrivals, rabbits dodge the bike, but not the farmer in the distance with his gun I noticed, and another sign Spring is close, fields are blocked of to stop gypsies arriving.  Breathe deeply the fresh morning air, change your mind when it freezes the throat, cough all the way back down the track.  Back by half past seven for fried egg sandwich  breakfast and slowly stiffening muscles.  I use the term 'muscles' in the widest possible term here.

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Early Morn Bike

You will of course be delighted to hear that just after seven this morning I jumped - carefully - onto the bike and whizzed slowly around the streets.  The weather was quite gentle for a change, the sun almost shone and as I honed my bulk I found myself enjoying the strange experience of physical effort once again.  The weather, feeling poorly, and laziness being too busy has meant I have hardly been near the bike all year.  Once the cycling stops it is not easy to get back into it especially when the weather is lousy as it has been all year.  Leaving the bike I limped around the town watching the smiling people head for their workplaces.  How I envied them, but then I was just glad to get home and call the Thai Takeaway Curry House & massage people round to massage my knees for me.  Tonight I ache all over!  I suppose this means I am not fit and healthy?

Did you realise that there are more plastic surgeons keeping people beautiful in Brazil than anywhere else?  I would have thought the US would have more but Brazilians are the ones desperate to remain young all their lives, at least those who are rich at any rate.  The poor, and there are many in Brazil, have to exercise, preferably on the beach where the beautiful people show themselves to the world.  Something about all this does not attract me.  The desperate having their face lifted often look worse afterwards, regular ageing and making the best of themselves makes people look better than any surgeon can manage.   Of course some have real reason to go under the knife but the faces filling the media are always broken people looking to be loved or just for attention.  Me myself have retained my handsome feature through living a good life and being naturally Adonis like.  What? ........Oh!

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Another Day Out

The crops are beginning to show through now, as this pic taken from the speeding train shows.  The sweep of the fields always catch my eye, although it does not make for the greatest picture, especially when the sky is gray.  I listened to the messages Richard Branson and his MI6 friends give us secretly as we sped along, but mostly my attention was taken by the smartly dressed young lass who journeyed one stop only and the smell of disinfectant that came from an Asian man suffering a cold.  With my luck I suspect I will be a Man Flu disaster area soon.  Why do such people leave the house I ask?

The weeping willows appear to be bright intelligent trees.  If you must weep, weep into a river I say.  I did wonder about the drought at this point.  Farmers want water and here we have a full river, why not put it to use?  Rather than let it flow into the estuary use the water on the fields.  there must be a legal way of doing this?  No point in farmers, and ourselves, losing crops I say.

  

I am not keen on 'candid shots' of people, I see them as an intrusion, however I did wish a shot of this man's bike.  I would say it was somewhat overloaded myself, and the bag on the ground he had on his back!  Was he off camping?  is he one of the homeless?  Is this how he makes his living perhaps, a travel writer with an angle?  When I made my mammoth ride I had two saddlebags and as little as possible in them.  How much does he carry?  Is he a member of 3 para, stationed here, on his way home for Easter?  I found myself a little intrigued, but just looking at him and imagining the struggle up hill made me tired.  I climbed aboard the train and went home to bed.

The gratuitous train picture!  You all want to see one, admit it!  

  

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The Bike

The sun was shining, the sky was blue, so this afternoon, once I had worked up the courage, I got out onto the bike for the first time in two months.  I had decided yesterday that another exercise period was required, so this morning I attempted just that and in the afternoon I jumped on the rusting old bike and pedaled around for twenty minutes. The sun may have been shining but the wind was coming from the east, via Siberia, so while my genteel hands were warm and cosy in the gloves my face took an instant dislike to being frozen.  Once home I walked around the town continuing to being frozen but the only way to avoid the knees freezing up also!


This little trip made me wonder how, in 1974, I had managed to cycle from Edinburgh to London!  I had the idea that this would be a cheap holiday so I decided to by a bike!  Now remember that I had not ridden a bike for about ten years yet I searched the papers and found one on sale for £18!  I made my way to the south east of the city and bought a bike from a man who told me that the owner had, "Gone to Australia."  I found myself wondering in he knew he had emigrated.  However I got on the bike, somewhat shakily, and suddenly remembered I had miles to go through Edinburgh streets.  I cannot recall the journey but I suspect it was not straight forward.  A few weeks later I set off on my journey.  Today, having developed the brain a bit better, I would spend six months training for this venture, checking the food I ate, stocking up on carbohydrates and the like.  Then I just jumped on the bike, a packet of sandwiches and a few bags of raisins and nuts or some such, and discovered this was not going to be as easy as I thought.  Cycling to work was one thing, cycling with packs on the bike another, and it rained!


It tool me two hours to be clear of Edinburgh as I wandered through Leith and Musselburgh heading for the A1 and the road south.  It did not take the rest of the week to make me realise I was a clown!  Cycling the back roads of the A1 was pleasant to look at, but the up and down nature of the roads got very wearing, especially as old men on ancient bikes swept past me contemptuously.  Averaging fifty miles a day (today about three!) I made it in a week.  I stopped at a couple of Youth Hostels for the first two nights and was not impressed, so stayed in a couple of pubs and a couple of boarding houses after this.  The locals were friendly and while they considered me an idiot they managed not to do this to my face.  I don't know why, I agreed with them!  Had I been making a telly programme about this I would find adventures, women, excitement, women, crimes, women, rich rewards, women, interesting places full of the rich with women, but as it was just me I merely took a fifty mile shortcut that took me a mere ten miles further on one day, and no women!  The wind, naturally, was constantly against me, the rain knew where I was, I discovered that 'Mild' was acceptable beer, that 15th century pubs bedrooms floors sank in the middle, and that when you pass the Hartlepool United Football Club doorway you are miles of course. I intended to ride through York but took the wrong road and went around it and couldn't be bothered to go back, I stopped to take a picture of the lovely pink sunset over the 'Selby Oil & Cake Works,' forgetting the 'Instamatic' had a Black & White film inside,  and that road signs saying 'Village 1 mile,' are followed at 30 yards by another claiming 'Village 1/2 mile.'  


I suppose it was worth it but how I did it I do not know.  The bike was sent back via a carrier, and took 8 days to arrive, and I returned by train!  No fool me.  Had I the energy would I do this again? Yes, but with a bit more planning this time, and a car as back up!  I used the bike a lot in those days, for work and pleasure.  I cycled over the Forth Bridge and back via Kincardine, up into the lower Pentlands, struggling up the slope, and racing back as Edinburgh slopes down to the Forth so I got home a lot quicker than I went out! The only problem with the bike was that twice the tyre exploded in the middle of the night while at home!  We never worked that one out.  The 'Sun' racer was a good bike for me, but I prefer my present ageing one I must admit.  Maybe I had better try another trip tomorrow as they claim snow is on the way.  Hopefully it will remain in Scotland, where it belongs!

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The Friday Post

Old Bikes

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Country Air

For the first time in a while I cycled, slowly, up the old railway line. I went around eleven as it is quiet then and stupid me forgot the kids are on holiday. Therefore as the sun was shining the families ponderously made their way up the line.  The kids chatting to all the dogs that passed by, when that is they were not wandering through the bushes, the women gossiping about nothing and blocking the way for normal human beings going about their lawful business. The dads being dads, carrying the bags on their backs, sometimes alone with one child, as indeed were a granddad or two, and making me miss the not so young kids way up north.  In one way this was nice to see, in another they just got in the way! A good day out and of course I ache all over now. I must get out more, as people often tell me.


I was attempting to add the 'Beach Boys' song 'Country Air,' because this came to mind when sitting enjoying the sun, greenery and fresh air.  EMI do not allow this (are they not the folks who turned 'The Beatles' down?) so find it on 'YouTube' and hum along as you read.  I was indeed 'humming' when I got home.  

A good day also in that I had a £5 off voucher for the new 'Morrisons' supermarket. The staff, for the most part, are very friendly, you can tell they are new to this game, and I will certainly return next Friday - I have another voucher!  This means that this small town has three large supermarkets represented.  Tesco have three stores, one which has just been redeveloped. Sainsburys have one which is about to be redeveloped and they plan another so big it will replace a small industrial estate! There is already a 'Lidl's' and now the Co-op has closed 'Morrisons' have moved in.  Just how much do the thirty five to forty thousand folks here eat I wonder?  I spent £16:98, and that was after taking advantage of the voucher to stock up, consider how much others must be spending on things they can afford but do not actually need?  Being poor makes me careful with money and I tend to notice prices more.  I also notice how folks buy things with little thought and choosing the label not the product!  An expensive item will be brought rather than try the store version, even though they are just as good nowadays.  Something is bought because it has always been chosen rather than because of any worth it may have.  The tricks of the store also make us all spend on things we don't want and they laugh all the way to the Swiss Bank where the directors store their ill gotten gains. I prefer 'Tesco,' but I will suffer 'Morrisons' for one more week as I use up the last voucher.

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Tyres

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Tyres are filthy beasts! It is only when you turn the bike upside down and attempt, with much grunting and sweat, to remove the wheel that you realise just how much muck there is on the things. There is a slight possibility that not cleaning the brute since before winter began might have something to do with this. Anyway this morning among much feculence I spent a considerable time prising extremely small pieces of glass shreds from the tyre. These are the result of the kiddies beer bottles that appear to lie strewn over far to many roads and byways these days. There was of course an almighty struggle to get the type off the wheel, a similar struggle to that which ensued when placing it on there the last time. According to the books on the subject the repair begins just by placing a tyre lever in the right place and lifting it slowly. Bah! For one, where is the tyre lever? it was in the toolbox but has now walked into the cupboard! Then the thing goes under the tyre but will not move sideways, and if it does the tyre replaces itself as you move!!! 

Having lost several pounds in weight struggling to get the tyre off, two levers on both sides required, I then discover several little holes in the tyre stuffed with glass. As I searched, first in the cupboard then in the toolbox where it actually was, for the repair kit I also found a new inner tube! I must have bought this when flush with cash a while ago!  Great stuff, the repair can wait!  A straight forward hour long fight with the tyre, an inner tube that kept attempting to be outer tube,  and lever that keep crawling over the floor, I quickly fixed the problem. Another 'Mein Kampf' got the wheel back on the bike and this morning and later in the cool of the evening I trundled happily about the town, dodging late evening joggers, blackbirds looking for supper and families cycling the old railway together. Now I find my knees stiffening up again and the mind is filled with the thought that I am getting fitter, although cynics may refer to this as more like rising from the dead considering how unfit I really happen to be.  Now where did all that oil on the floor come from.....


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Bike

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Foolishly I was enticed by the yellow sunshine brightening the green of the grass outside my window, the clear blue sky high above and climbed onto the trusty old bike this morning. Hastening out along the short pavement I turned into the side road and rode at speed straight into a police car leaving the station to begin the mid morning patrol! Well I avoided him of course but he seemed peeved for some reason leaving me similarly peeved that  he glared at me in that special manner a policeman always seem able to sum up. Therefore I hastened on my way before he could consider opening his mouth!
'Hastened' is the word! The bike and my knees worked well today. For some reason all was going well as I headed up the slopes of the old railway at high speed, except when avoiding dog walkers obviously! These had also been drawn out by the sun and there is nothing more delightful to a dog than the many varieties of experience available along this walk. Unfit and unspeakable as I am I had intended to struggle up to the village and make my weary way home. Surprisingly I kept going and cycled round the country lanes to the bigger village further on. Even more surprising was the lack of 'white van man' speeding along this route today. The sight of early crops coming through, crows sauntering about the fields confident in their strength, robins singing brightly for a mate, anybody's mate, in the branches, and the sun filled sky kept me going. The change of scenery, the bright sun and the assortments of colours as Spring begins to spring lightened the heart and made passers-by offer cheery 'hello's' to all who pass. Brightly painted ageing houses, some which have stood their ground for several hundred years, made for interesting viewing. The farms I passed can be found on old maps still with their present name. I wonder how long some of these farms have existed? Since the forests that one covered this area  were cleared this land has been farmland. People have come and gone, fortunes have ebbed and flowed, centuries have passed and the general nature has remained the same. Plague and witch hunts, civil war and changeable governments have risen and fallen and these trees, bushes and the wildlife have continued on their own way following the seasons. 
Since the middle of the 19th century we have mostly been town dwellers in the west. Contact with the land has been lost, unless we are granted a bit of garden to grow our own veg. Allotments, that British area of garden leased from the council, have become more and more desired as time passes. People wish them partly to enable a ready supply of vegetables but also to get in touch with the land, something supermarkets cannot give, and indeed who's prices are an encouragement to such 'self help.      
I suppose it's getting on for five miles or so outwards and when my knees realised how far they had gone they began to rebel! In their opinion my arms were not pulling enough and my arms were more than willing to contest this thought. Hurtling through Bannister Green at six miles an hour, good job that slope was there, I decided it was time to return home by the railway bed. Here I found that not only the chilled wind was against me but at this point the the line began to rise slightly. Typical! This slope was not noticed by those blackened steam engines pulling the local service slowly along but it was clear enough to both my arms and my knees. They commented on this in a manner a bit too full and frank for my liking to be honest.  
I do not worry about aching limbs in the morning however, these have arrived already! I sit aching and totally knackered, merely happy the heart attack did not arrive while on the road home! Too think that once I rode, over several days, from Edinburgh to London and now I struggle after a few miles! There is no doubt that I am unfit but if the weather keeps up I will be out a few more times in days to come. Now where is that ambulance.......

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The Bike

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The weather was a bit dreich, gray clouds lay overhead most of the day, but I managed to get the bike purring all the way up the old railway to the village. That time of the morning, around ten, usually has some folks walking the dog. I maybe would be better saying 'following the dog,' as those beasts enjoy this pathway more than the people do. Whether they appreciate the sights as much as the smells I would not care to say but there were a few four legged creatures sniffing along. 
People round here usually make some sort of greeting as they pass during the week days but on the weekends the attitudes are often different. I wonder if this could be because at the weekend it is those commuters into far off London breathing fresh air but carrying the London offhand approach? Those who have lived there will know the sort of thing, if you die in front of them they will not see you! When I regularly met such folks on a weekend I made a point of a cheery greeting, just to annoy them! They rarely reply!
I was a bit peeved that the wildlife folk had been out with the hatchets and cut back lots of the greenery in preparation for the year. No doubt they know what they are doing but it was a bit disappointing to see so many gaps in the verges. This old railway line is indeed well cared for and is always worth a visit no matter what time of year. I reckon that having spent so many years amongst London's concrete I appreciate the vista more than those brought up out here.
I stopped at the stagnant pond to stop my knees yelling at me, the creaking sound was beginning to annoy me, and sat there for a few moments listening to the typical country sounds. There were robins and tits chirping in the hedges and trees. A squirrel or two passed by, somewhere along the path a dog barked, and over all of this the thunder of the by-pass a hundred yards away drowned out every sound more than five feet from my wax filled ears. Ah the quiet country life, it doesn't exist!


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Bike

So I eventually get around to fixing the puncture.

I struggle to turn the nut to release the wheel, always the back wheel of course, and, covered in filth, bring it upstairs. The tyre lever has disappeared. A silver tool fails to release the tyre. Neither does that strange shaped thing in the tool box, nor does a screwdriver, nor a combination of several tools! Scrambling for something in the rubble I find the tyre lever, (how did it get there?) and with a great deal of effort move the tyre sufficiently to remove, with a struggle, the inner tube. I shove it, by now willingly, into water and note the hole. Removing it from the water I lose the place and struggle through pumping and drowning the thing again, this time having some way of marking the tiny hole that causes the grief. 
Another search in the tool box for the box of patches. Plenty of those, lots of those white chalk bits, some emery paper scraps, a few yellow crayons and NO rubber solution!
I clean my filthy hands and soon afterwards make for the dole office where a nice young lass signs me on amid smiles and encouragement. Clearly she does not know how to do her job! I wander about looking for things connected to the Great War history of the town that I have been studying, and arrive home, hot, sweaty, and flushed. As I pass the bike remember I have forgotten the new puncture outfit! I leave it till later! Just before five I rush to the shops and find one in an overpriced shop dealing in motor items/ bike stuff. This is run by guys who smile at you while lifting your wallet. You know the smart ass type in such shops, not allowed to sell used cars as used car salesmen don't trust them, that sort. I find myself paying £2:99 for this small box! £2:99! I was expecting to pay 99p! Stunned, and determined never to return, I head home.
So stunned the thing is still sitting here beside me. At least the rubber solution is a decent size this time, although there is not much else in there, bar the small bit of emery paper and a couple of patches. 
£2:99, and they say Dick Turpin lived around here? I believe them!

Punctured!

With the dawn already risen I rode out at 5:15 the other morning to enjoy the quiet before the day starts. Being up that early meant I passed the postmen going into work and the early bird catching the worm. (I do not refer to postmen when mentioning 'worm.') I sauntered around in what was a warm sun at that time and thoroughly enjoyed the time. Later, as I took my stiffening knees out to the shops, I noticed the tyre was flat. "Strange," I thought wondering why this should be? Later I pumped air into the tyre, the rear tyre as all punctures have to be there, and watched as the worn rubber slowly deflated again. On the journey I had run over some minute object which had done the deed.   


This means I am on my knocked knees wandering the streets instead of trolling through the countryside enjoying the damp weather. This is somewhat of a blow, especially as I am too lazy to fix the puncture. The problem is the back wheel. This has to come off, the gears moved, the grease, dirt and oil has to be spread all over the wall, the carpet and even the ceiling if last time is anything to go by. Hours later the tyre has to be replaced, and inflated. Now I don't know about you but in my experience when this happens, the wheel tightened, the gears replaced, and all is well, then by the next morning it is flat again! So the ten minute job, according to those who write books, takes three or four days before it is finished! The idea of riding the brute after that loses all interest as the fear of another puncture fills the oil covered mind. 


Tomorrow I begin the operation. If it is finished by Friday I will be very surprised! 

.

My Luck

My luck never changes.
Today I decided that as there was an attempt by the sun to shine through the cold air I ought to attempt to fix the bike. The new gear cable is on, but requires a lot of adjustment. My mechanical instincts being what they are there is little chance of me doing this effectively. Once I got the tools out and looked at the bike I realised there was less chance of success than even I realised. My luck you see, was out!

The other week, while my neighbour was moving things in and out, I locked the bike with the 'Citadel' lock so he could move it as he wished to get through the narrow hallway. Today, full of the urge to fix the bike and cycle I discovered the key would not open the lock! A journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step, so why is it that my journeys end before the first step is taken? Almost any job that needs foxed is hindered by a screw that will not turn, or is missing, or is inaccessible. Nothing is ever straight forward except the instruction books, and they ignore such little things, such as reality!

I know the lock has been stiff before but today I attempted to put the key in but found it would not go. So I struggled, pushed and grunted but nothing would move. I tried another key, no change. I checked it was the right key, it was, so why does it not fit? I pushed, and pushed, shook the thing, swung it about, although being attached to the bike this was difficult, and after losing several pounds in weight from my exertions, took the only appropriate action - I gave up! I drenched the 'blessed' lock in oil, not olive, and left it. Tomorrow I may have another go, there again I may just curl up in a warm corner, if there is one, and cry myself to sleep instead!

Luck? Don't ask me about luck! 

Sunday

This was the sky yesterday, today we have not seen it once! There has been a cloud a thousand miles long covering the land today, or at least the eastern half! How annoying is that? The sun makes the worst days appear worthwhile, and gray clouds or darkness deepens our gloom. A gloom made worse as I climbed aboard the bike this morning to discover the gear lever mechanism has bust! I think my neighbour moved it yesterday when shifting furniture, and has damaged it by mistake. Now it only works in top gear! So no cycling for me. This adds to the money I am spending just now, money I do not possess! The new monitor, the gear mechanism,. and a new cartridge for the printer are just three items added to the pile. Two birthdays that cannot be avoided arrived this week, and the credit card bill, and some folk thinks those on the dole spend all their time sitting in pubs!



However as you know I am not one to complain. I just put on my cheeriest smile and face the world with joy in my heart. Sometimes this is encouraged by circumstances outside of my ken. Today one of these moments arrived. Hibernian (Edinburgh's 'Wee Team') fans have been boasting on 'Hibs Mad' (an appropriate name) that their manager is bringing in many new players and that third place in the Scottish Premier League is theirs for the taking. (Third place ensures European competition) Today this world beating combination travelled to Hamilton Academicals to play the team bottom of the league. They lost by two goals to nil! A Hibs man at the game denounced them as 'Non-triers!' He was downhearted by their feeble performance, which included their new buy stars. Excuse me for a moment.....

Oh dear, I did enjoy that! Life feels so much better now.

August Bank Holiday

As I left behind my somnolence this morning, it struck me that this was a 'Bank Holiday.' I knew this immediately I glanced outside that this was a 'Bank Holiday' because the sky was battleship gray, and a strong wind was waving the tree branches opposite. The term 'Bank Holiday' refers to the time when the banks, and most others, took time of for religious festivals, 'Saints days,' as they were originally, at least in England. Over thirty were known in the early part of the nineteenth century and gradually these have been amended to a handful. No longer concerned with Saints or banks it has become a standing joke that each holiday is greeted with cries of despair as the rain teems down and the wind howls along the streets! However it is not always this way, this is the UK after all, and there is just as much chance of sunshine as rain on such a days. Now for instance, as I glance at the passing girls trees opposite I see the sun is shining and the sky is blue and people are out attempting to make the most of the hot sun.

This admiration for the sun I admit is not always good. A figure has just passed by on the other side, shirtless, with large bare boobs, and wearing my indoor glasses which are not good at that distance, I first thought it to be a female! But no, (and it's a big butt!) the creature was a near naked male taking his kids through the streets! I am just glad there were no whaling boats around just now or there may have been a harpoon flying in his direction! Jings what a sight! I'm glad I was wearing the wrong glasses! This sort of thing might be all right in the privacy of your own home but lease, not in public!

Anyway, early this morning, after stuffing my fat face I cycled off against the westerly wind and headed up the old railway. (Known as the Flitch Way)Because of the Holiday few were around even at that time, just after half past seven, and the empty track encouraged me to travel further afield than usual. In fact I made it to the old rail bridge that once led into Felsted railway station, I say once, as it has long since been removed. The station is now a private dwelling, (how nice is that?) and the occupants probably dislike the idea of people tramping past their window. Getting there and back gave me a run of around twelve miles on the bike, the most I have managed for a while. In the, now distant, past I made it all the way to Bishops Stortford and back, around thirty miles, yet today I struggle to do this little run. However at least I can do this and that pleases me, especially once I get home!

Very few people around, a few dog walkers, most giving a happy, if reluctant, greeting, except the miserable lass with two big gray dogs scowling as she always does. I think she believes herself attractive and expects men are looking at her, hmmm, not with an expression like that dearie! Why do women mistake a grunted greeting as you pass with an attempt on their honour (honour?). Is it arrogance that they think you should be looking at them, or that the girl is herself always on the lookout for a fancy man herself? Hmmm I wonder. One couple were noticed far ahead walking fast in an exercise pattern. Walking quickly, then swinging the arms, and I suspect knee bending every so often, as she put herself, and her man through torments to keep themselves young. They were probably the cheeriest people out there on the 'Flitch Way' today. As I made my way back they were still happily getting fit, although I believe he was already thinking of his bath, a quick rub down and a fine whisky by that time!


There is always one miserable jogger making his way along the old line. Usually someone in his late thirties, early forties, 'iPod' plugged in, doing his best to ignore the world and wishing death on each and everyone who greets his passing. What is it with such men? Are they desperate for fitness because of the needs of their job, or could it be a desperate desire to retain the last vestiges of youth? Sometimes I feel there is a mid life crises there and a fear of a slackening sex life, a loss of desirability to women, and a real fear that life has passed them by. The fact that we all go through this escapes them and their anguish is dealt with alone and unannounced to the world, at least in words. It's the manly way! I sometimes watch these men, often 'successful' in their sphere, big car, good house, good money, wife and kids, yet worried about their image or their place in the rat race. They are not content, that can be seen in their attitude. Now I realise that these attitudes change with each day, however we reveal ourselves more indirectly than directly in many occasions. I sometimes want to grab them and tell them Jesus can make their lives worthwhile, but you know they will pass by, either afraid to consider this or have no thoughts about Gods reality for them at all. What is going on in there?

The biggest problem today was of course the weather and the slopes of the old track. Now as I made my way west I hurtled along at a good speed as much of the line is flat and with the bike well oiled, and the tyres full of air, even on the slopes I made good time and this was indeed a fine healthy exercise for the heart. However the wind was somewhat against me though hidden to some extent by the trees and high bushes at each side. I was however glad the return journey could be taken in a more idle fashion, down hill. Naturally having reached the end, wandered around for a while to denumb my bum, I gratefully headed home. It was several minutes of avoiding the many rabbits that waited till the last minute before scurrying away at my passing before I realised I was still going upwards and now fighting an easterly wind. Where did this come from? Why is it that each and every day the wind and the slope is against you no matter which direction you are headed? I considered a phone call to the meteorological office but suspected that they would fiddle a computer somewhere and turn on the rain and complete my day for me. However I made it home, tired and grateful that I could cycle a bike, managed to smile at most folk I met, discussed the rules of the way with a dog or two and could stuff my fat face and then sit in a hot bath for an hour or two reading books (pictures available for a price!).

Of course my back now aches with stiffness, my knees are telling me this was too far, and I have not lost an ounce in weight. Still, it was worth it and I might try something similar tomorrow, if the weather lets me.

I'm Bored!

I'm bored! It's Friday night and I am bored!

The sun is shining,
The sky is blue,
And I, poor soul
Have nothing to do!

Not only that but there is no money to do anything. There is no car, so I cannot go anywhere, there are no friends (bet that surprises you?) to call, no one to annoy visit, and the family are too far away and too busy boring each other anyway! So I am left alone, and bored.

I have no energy, mental or physical today so I cannot be bothered thinking of anything bright, clever, worthwhile or grumbling. Even playing 'Techtris' means little, while reading anything more than simple sentences wears me out. Even watching 'Top Gear' makes me boak as the cars go too fast, although that is normal to be honest. Every time I turn this programme on, and it is always on with 'Dave TV,' there are screeching tyres and clouds of tyre smoke. Why? If you have seen one grossly overpriced car racing along at 150 m.p.h. you have seen them all, yet each week they wax lyrical about something costing £200,000 and expect to get plaudits for it! Not from me pal! Maybe it's because I am no longer 20 years old, or maybe it's because I don't have a small willie (I'm excused shorts girls!) or maybe I have seen too many men trundling past my window in cars they obtained for the image not the usefulness, and here I omit the one who bought a MacLaren willie extender and then smashed it, and himself, into a tree not far from here. That was £200,000 wasted in my view. Of course the programme has some good bits, and occasionally actually informs and entertains at the same time, although while 'entertaining,' driving a car across the English Channel only informed us of the stupidity of attempting this act in the busiest sea lane in the world! But I digress, I was mentioning my boredom which comes from having no friends, no money, no life, and worse, no football to watch!

It never ceases to amaze me that when there is a (proper) football match to watch I need not be bored! It may be boring (Like watching Hibernian) or it may keep me on the edge of the seat, but at least if it is on I am part of the real world and something of importance is happening around me! I even watched Halifax play some unknown side in the 'Blue Square Premiership' once' and felt alive. Where is Halifax exactly? Television you see, while often offensive, insulting to the intelligence (like 'As Seen on TV' for instance! or 'Mutton Dressed as Lamb' 'Loose Women,') and full of mediocrity can in fact be a window on the world. What would folk trapped indoors all day do without a telly? Especially if they can obtain 'Freeview' or satellite TV.' This really can be a window on the world, although tonight it appears closed as nothing but the brain dead can be happy with the offerings being shown! But where is television heading these days. Video recorders were a great boon, especially when they recorded both the start and finish of the programmes, and DVD's and the new fangled digital stuff (I don't know either) make for new 'opportunities' as the TV folk say. The original idea of one channel (the BBC) was revolutionised with the introduction of ITV in 1957. The world changed at that moment, although we had no telly and all I was concerned about was my cardboard fort and the soldiers fighting over it! With TV available on PCs and in hand held 'iPod' like things, with a billion channels available I wonder where TV will take us? Especially as the Football, the news, and little else will have an IQ of more than 10!

Even the wireless is boring tonight. At the moment Radio 4, the middle class intellectual (they say) channel airs 'Any Questions?' One of these programmes where four people are asked to lie in their teeth if they are MP's, push themselves or their daft ideas on everyone else (If they are not) or as tonight four nobodies which means no-one cares any which way. Radio 1 meanwhile is being ignored by normal people, Radio 2 has 'Friday Night is Music Night,' a programme that was first aired I think when the Luftwaffe were passing overhead. Listening tonight I can assure you they would be welcomed back with open arms if they make an appearance any time soon! Radio 3 (the real intellectual station (I listen)) covers the 'BBC Proms!' They are now in the middle of the interlude so a stimulating talk regarding the Influence of Fascism on Italian music during Mussolini's time is pontificating in a dry fashion. Radio 5Live (can it air when dead?) has some hope as it covers the first match of the English Championship season, and Radio Scotland is playing music, again! When in Edinburgh I was amazed at the number of stations playing music! There appeared to be little attempt at all, except during the News broadcasts and that was very insular, especially if you were from Glasgow! There is a need for sensible talk and that seemed to me to be unobtainable there! It was so bad I had to listen to my sister at one point!

What was I saying? Oh yes, bored! Well I am and if my knees did not ache after my cycle ride today, why is the wind always against you when you head for home I ask, I would wander the streets looking for dropped coins. It is true, the wind is always against the cyclist! Before I leave I look to the sky and if the winds are from the west I head in that direction, however, when I head back the wind is from the east, blowing strongly and full of Siberian promise! Does this happen to others, or are the weather girls still upset at the letters I write them I wonder?

Oh I'm bored with this, as most of you are as you stopped reading long ago. I'm off to put my head in the gas oven!