It’s a vicious cycle …

The cyclist’s conjecture

n’ = n+1 for n=1..∞

states that n’, the number of bikes that a cyclist needs, is always one more than n, the number (s)he already owns, for any value of n.

That’s my way of saying “I’ve just bought another one”!

My oldest road bike is almost vintage having been bought in 1992. I used it in a group ride about four years ago only for a lycra-clad short-a**e riding a carbon-fibre bike to sneeringly tell me that “You don’t see many of them nowadays” …

Ca. 1991. ‘Steel is real’. Good old 531 tubing and a horizontal top tube. Classic lines and still in use!

… which is why I was rather pleased to win a modern aluminium-framed bike a year later with carbon forks and a Campagnolo gearset. It’s amazing what the purchase of a shrink-wrapped block of Wensleydale cheese can lead to – I’d bought a promotional competition pack to mark the Tour de France’s Grand Départ from Yorkshire.

My Tour de France winning bike or, rather, the one that I won for buying a packet of Wensleydale (“Cracking cheese, Gromit”).

So why buy another bike? Simples! The road bikes are terrific for tarmac, but not so good over slightly rougher surfaces and my travels with Priscilla (posts passim) lend themselves to both tarred and non-tarred outings. So I need a bike for each (of course I do).

The new one is of the ‘adventure bike’ genre: carbon forks with generous tyre clearance for fatter tyres, disc brakes and reduced gearing on the chainset (ideal for a moderately overweight recreational cyclist aka a MORC), but with road bike geometry and clearance for mudguards it makes for an ideal winter bike too. Win-win!

… and the new addition is finished in ‘stealth black’ (as if a MORC could even dream of being stealthy 🙁 )

Postscript: I was given a road bike for my 21st birthday, but remember little of it other than its saddle was nicked when it was securely racked outside a hall of residence in Dundee. Some while later the rest of it was nicked too.

I wondered at the time whether the thief followed the advice that I was given when I asked a girl off my course (who I thought of as a rather reserved and quiet lass): “How can I ride it without its saddle?” Reserved and quiet maybe, but also blunt, coarse and to the point: “Stick it up your a**e and pedal like f**k!” she said. I never saw her in the same light again!

A limerick a week #17

Not long ago in a galaxy very close to home …

I was sorry to hear of Carrie Fisher’s death. I hope they write her out of the Star Wars franchise and don’t resort to a CGI impersonation otherwise it tells the world that she was ephemeral to the rôle she took; just a collection of molecules that could be replaced by some bits and bytes fed into a GPU. She was a lot more than that.

She was sassy: “Instant gratification takes too long“.

She was brassy: “We treat beauty like an accomplishment, and that is insane. Everyone in L.A. says, ‘Oh, you look good,’ and you listen for them to say you’ve lost weight. It’s never ‘How are you?’ or ‘You seem happy!'”.

And she was classy: “I don’t want my life to imitate art, I want my life to be art“.

She was also wise (in between the excesses of her life): “Resentment is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die“.

There’ll be some that may shed a tear
When the news reaches them and they hear
That Carrie had died
And the world is denied
The ‘spark’ that empowered Princess Leia.

Fisher gently explains to George Lucas know that if she's made to wear 'that' bikini again, she'll also be wearing his testicles as earrings.
Fisher gently explains to George Lucas that if she’s made to wear ‘that’ bikini again, she’ll also be wearing his testicles as earrings.

Quotes that made me laugh #23

The rugby coach and big girl panties …

There was a refreshingly honest touchline interview during today’s televised rugby match between Saracens and Exeter.

Under a new directive interpreting the punishment for various acts of foul play, Sarries had seen a player sent off for a dangerous, head-high tackle. Alex Sanderson, the Sarries coach and an advocate of more stringent policing of dangerous tackles, not only acknowledged the red card to be fully justified, but also commented that he would have had no complaint if a second Sarries player had also been carded at the same time.

His quote reflected a degree of irony vis-à-vis his advocacy for a safer game:

Karma’s come back and bit me in the a**e“.

karma

A limerick a week #16

Take off optional, landing mandatory …

I received a genuine surprise from Management on my birthday – a pleasure flight in an autogyro (aka a gyrocopter or gyroplane) for when my next hometown trip to the English Lake District coincides with fine weather.

Three weeks earlier I would have been utterly delighted by it, but in the interim the Cumbrian press was full of an autogyro that had crashed, injuring both its pilot and passenger. Apparently there was a bird strike causing it to hit power lines after which, in the words of Monty Python, it “did not so much fly … as plummet”.

Tandem autogyro in flight
There is an art … to flying. The knack lies in learning how to throw yourself at the ground and miss – Douglas Adams.

The question is: did Management know about this before she bought my present? Is she trying to tell me something? Has she surreptitiously taken out extra life insurance on me? Only time will tell. Meantime …

An autogyro that recently crashed
Hit the ground so hard that it smashed
Its cockpit in two
While both of the crew
Saw the seat of their pants flying past.

Postscript#1: Fans of the older James Bond movies will remember Little Nellie from the film You Only Live Twice in which Bond, flying a heavily armed autogyro, out-guns numerous baddies in traditional helicopters on his way to another victory over Blofeld and his SPECTRE organisation.

Such is its fame you can still buy die-cast models of Little Nellie 50 years after the film premiered!

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Postscript#2: I try to edit my posts to be as lean as possible – usually unsuccessfully – and sometimes that means a smart-a**e bit has to be removed because it just doesn’t ‘work’ in the context in which it is set. That, pains me greatly.

This week’s sacrificial edit expunged the following re-wording of Bond and Goldfinger’s memorable exchange from an earlier Bond movie, Goldfinger, into the aerobatic context of You Only Live Twice:

Bond: You don’t expect me to walk?
Blofeld: No, Mr Bond, I expect you to fly!

There! I’ve sneaked it in!

That was my year that was

I’m quite pleased to see the back of 2016,  but for what it’s worth here are some pics for my ‘best of’ compendium for the year …

Best new experience of the year:

A bread-making course at ‘Bread Ahead’ (Borough Market, London). Just me and a bunch of Chelsea girls loafing around …

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You know you’re in trouble when your sourdough goes a-rye

Best ice-cream of the year:

Beating Zanoni’s of Vienna by a short head was the first ice-cream pit stop of the year.

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Cycling on a sundae …

Best blog idea of the year:

A limerick a week. How else can one show one’s proficiency at celebrating #TeamDemelza in verse with an anapestic meter and strict rhyme scheme?

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Why a limerick? Because ‘There was once a man who wrote poems …’

Best cycle ride of the year:

Finally, at the age of 24, Firstborn scraped her knee whilst participating in a physical outdoor activity. Her mother was so proud 🙂

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Blood, sweat and gears …

Best health tip of the year:

… and from the Graun: Bike rides and hot baths – a fitness match made in heaven and it’s official!

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Oh dear, I’m in hot water again!

Best impression of a marine mammal of the year:

Management performing dolphinarium tricks (we’d boycotted Marineland Mallorca whilst on holiday) with Firstborn as the ‘trainer’.

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Does this trick make my bum look big?

Best meal of the year:

The most hotly contested category of all. It could easily have been the baked brie at the Crofters Bistro, Rosemarkie, or the scallops at the Applecross Inn or the mega-breakfast at the Hatton Locks café or the liver and bacon at the Tigh an Eilean Hotel, Shieldaig. But by a country mile, ‘hats off’ please to the Gasthaus Ubl in Vienna for keeping traditional Austrian cuisine alive and at its best. Roast pork, sauerkraut and dumplings like my Grandma used to make. Großartig!

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“Il semble que la perfection soit atteinte non quand il n’y a plus rien a ajouter, mais quand il n’y a plus rien a retrancher” – Antoine de saint-Exupery.

Best sausage of the year:

Another Viennese delight – mit brot und senf, of course

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Absolutely the wurst experience that we had on holiday …

Best new toy of the year:

A micro-campervan. According to the Daily Mash, “as a form of accommodation it is slightly more expensive than The Savoy, but I think it’s cool.

Priscilla at rest (at the Clootie Well)
As aficionados of the movie ‘Priscilla; Queen of the Desert’ will tell you, calling it Priscilla certainly puts the ‘camp’ into ‘campervan’

Best fresh air of the year:

As sensitive bio-indicators of atmospheric pollution, these lichens growing on a wooden bench seat next to the main road through Lochcarron attest to the freshness of its air. Unusually for Scotland the air was still on the day this picture was taken, making it the best fresh air of the year!

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I’m lichen it …

Best concert of the year:

No real competition here. Bellowhead on a Saturday night at the London Palladium during the band’s farewell tour. Simply awesome.

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Folk music ‘rebooted’ or as I would say,”traditional music given a kick up the a**e!”

Best offspring pose of the year:

Firstborn and The Tall Child ‘having a moment’.

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I never called you a mushroom. I said you were a fun guy!

And finally …

Best roof picture of the year:

Eavesdropping from the top of Stephansdom, Vienna

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… a bad case of shingles?

 

 

 

 

 

 

A limerick a week #15

So, the hedonistic rock star lifestyle has claimed another victim, or at least it looks that way, even if Rick Parfitt’s demise at the age of 68 is hardly that of a spring chicken. As Francis Rossi, his band mate and long-time friend, said of his ill-health in a portending interview the day before Parfitt died, “It’s payback for being a wild-man and he admits that himself”.

springchicken
Rick Parfitt

Still, it’s yet another icon of one’s youth to disappear. Top of the Pops in the seventies wasn’t Top of the Pops without Status Quo power-strumming their way through another incarnation of extremely loud, three-chord boogie-woogie (head-banging optional).

Spring Chicken

Whenever their musicianship was criticised their answer was simple: “We’re not musicians – we’re players”. And very loud players too, so much so that I guess if a journalist had told them in those days that the future would see them explore the acoustic route they’d have thought the hack’s snout had been buried rather too deeply in their coke trough. But they did, even if they called it ‘unplugged’ rather than acoustic.

Here’s a valedictory limerick for Parfitt:

I once wrote a limerick obit
For a rock star who called himself Parfitt …

… not really, that was a non-starter – here’s the real one:

You rocked the world over with ‘Caroline’
And your twelve bar blues that came to define
The essence of Status Quo
(A boogie-rock, three-chord show)
But, sadly, you’ve now reached the end-of-line.

Postscript: You may know that in 1975 Steeleye Span had a chart hit with ‘All Around My Hat, an up-tempo version of a traditional folk song that rose to number 5 in the UK top ten. In the same year Status Quo released ‘Roll Over Lay Down which charted at number 9. Maybe it was being out-charted by a folk group that led to the subsequent fusion of Steeleye’s Maddy Prior with Quo in the latter’s 1996 studio album of cover versions.

All Around My Hat‘ (with Prior dad-dancing on the video oblivious to the watching world) was one of the singles taken from the album, peaking at number 47 during its mega two-week run in the charts!

Happy birthday to a hypocrite …

Having ‘dissed’ marketing departments in my earlier post I am now about to contradict myself by thanking the good people of the Laphroaig distillery for my ‘Friend of Laphroaig’ birthday card and 20% discount on my next bottle. Very timely. Ironic, really, as I became a ‘friend’ solely as a result of being ‘marketed’ …

Happy birthday to me!
Happy birthday to me!

 

A limerick a week #14

Faith, hope and gluttony.
That’ll be Christmas!

Big business dictates the modern spirit of Christmas (its marketing departments ensure that) and throughout its annual, tawdry attempts to wrest even more money from the season of goodwill we, as consumers, unfailingly comply.

capitalistchristmas

Nothing new of course. On his album ‘An evening wasted with Tom Lehrer‘, the songwriter/mathematician introduces his attempt at a tongue-in-cheek consumerist’s Christmas Carol with:

It has always seemed to me after all, that Christmas with its spirit of giving, offers us all a wonderful opportunity each year to reflect on what we all most sincerely and deeply believe in. I refer of course, to money“.

Many a true word spoken in jest. Or, as Kevin McKenna writing in the Observer argues:

At Christmas time though, the UK turns into a vast themed funfair reserved exclusively for the enjoyment for people with money … . At no other time of year does a person who  is experiencing real deprivation feel more alienated or deprived“.

pleb-rudolf

Therefore, as response to marketing departments the world over and in honour of Scrooges and Grinches everywhere, I give you:

It’s clearly within my ability
To indulge in a certain proclivity.
So, because our modern-day
Christmas has lost its way,
I’ll  eschew all the seasonal festivity!

Postscript: The perceptive amongst you will recognise the subtitle of this post to come from Thea Gilmore’s not-quite-a-hit Yuletide song, “That’ll be Christmas” in which her attempt to head for high ground to “forget it all” comes to nought. I suspect that will be my lot too.