Friday, May 10, 2002

Just checked out some Blogs of note. Spit on a stranger is good.
Yes, spit on a stranger, especially a stranger smelling of garlic, which identifies them as a member of that despised group, the middle clarse.
Oh yes, here we are, its the Queens golden jubilee ! Where are the anarchists ? Where are the punks ? I hear the Pistols are re-releasing God Save the Queen. Now I've heard God save the queen done by Leftfield. Wend and bought Leftism yesterday and blow me down, that is'nt on the CD. Some good stuff all the same so I'm glad I got it. Also saw a neat album of Prince Buster stuff. Thats so good, I'm getting into this old Reggae. Up untill about 1972, reggae was so good, then it seemed to loose its way trying to go mainstream. Along came Marley and all the reggae acts tried to make mass appeal stuff, and just succeeded in making trash. The dub scene, however, went from strenght to strenght up untill about 1977, when that too seemed to fall by the wayside. Now with ragga and similar I can't find much I like in the reggae world, apart from old stuff. John Peel plays reggae now and again, it mostly sounds old stuff, but I don't much like any of the reggae things he plays. I wonder if they are his choice ? I suppose being a sort of old hippy its unlikely he would play any of the hardcore skinhead stuff, probably shying away from bootboy connotations. Maybe he just does'nt like that style.
Anyway. God Save the Queen, and I mean it man.
Remember, remember, remember you're a Womble.
Wise words indeed in this hectic modern age. Lets go back to a happier time of felt puppets keeping Wimbledon Common free of rubbish.
The streets can be cleared of trash, policemen and old ladies will dance hand-in-hand with rastafarians, Jews will cavort happily with sinister muslim clerics, lorry drivers will stop and hug traffic wardens, members of the royal family will kiss mohican-headed anarchists.
Oh yes, the world of the Womble will be a happy place. The special Womble Police will ensure it is so.
Womble punishments will be meted out to those not being happy.
Oh for goodness sake, the smell of rancid garlic is getting worse, I'm sure he is farting garlic as well.
Garlic will be an un-wombley thing.
I posted such a profound and deeply moving blog yesterday evening, but the internet pixies seem to have stolen it.
Therefore after the the intellectual effort of last night I am all washed out now. To say nothing of being hungover. I don't know what has happened to my system, last year I could drink vodka until 4 am with only a moderate hangover. Now I can only seem to do 2 am, then I lapse into unconsciousness, wake up at 5 am and sit on my glasses, breaking them. So now I am sitting in this here office next to Tourettes Syndrome Boy with a bad stomach and sellotape holding my specs together. Tourettes Syndrome Boy is giving off an odour of garlic, the stupid middle-class ponce. I wonder if I smell of rancid alcohol ? I do hope so. Some days he smells so bad, I wonder if some middle class folks bathe in garlic to ensure that authentic 'we've been eating proper food' smell ? His missus is some sort of college teacher, so they are well up in the middle class league table. Hey, how is my name appearing again ? Lets get rid of that.

Tuesday, May 07, 2002

Monday. Sorry no, Tuesday. Had an enjoyable bottle of Hoegaarden and some Spanish red called 'inferno' last night. And too many crisps. I don't know which was worse for me; the crisps or the wine. Spending today in the office for a change. To show my face. I planned this so as I could pick up my new car, hopefully today, or tomorrow, but it was not to be. Thursday is when the car will be ready. So thats fucked up my plans for the week. Which was, work at home tomorrow, up North Thursday morning. Now I'll have to go up North late Thursday morning, meaning I arrive late at IR. That is a pain. Might stay in Manchester on Thursday, at a serviced apartment. This is something like a US residence inn. Stayed at a Marriotts residence inn in Sacramento a few years back and they were very good. So I suppose its safe to assume these are similar. With a bedroom, bathroom, living area and a self catering kitchen it seems good. If only there was one out of central Manchester. There is secure parking too, which is usefull. The last night I stayed in Manchester my car was broken into in the multi-storey car park.

Monday, May 06, 2002

Is Moulin Rouge, the film, any good ? I wonder, after having read some fin de sicle stuff about 1900 Paris and Toulouse Lautrec I wonder. If I approach the film from an intellectual viewpoint I fear I will be disappointed. However, if I approach from a mere entertainment viewpoint I may well be pleased. What did I just say ? Am I a posing wanker ?
So, today, Monday 06 May 2002 was the final punishing day of my 3 day bike race. The day dawned cold and cloudy. Cold, (5 C) cloudy ? But what is this ? The 6th of May, so why cold and cloudy ? Is it the insidious effects of global warming, acting in reverse ? No. It is Buchans Spell. A common period of cold weather experienced in early to mid May, when temperatures are well below the seasonal norm. OK. I still have to ride the race. Now, where I don't mind cool and rain, I don't like cold to race in. I cannot seem to fill my lungs and breathe deeply. Well off we go into the cold, up the hill to Abberley, Ugh, the attacks go right away and I did'nt realise how long this hill was. Over the top, and onto the long Clows Top circuit. Uphill for another 5 miles, riders being dropped right, left and just in front of me so I had to work hard to regain the dwindling group. Got back, serves me right, I should ride near the front, not lurk at the back. I'll pay for that later. Over the top and descended to Newnham Bridge. A long descent, with uphill bits. We hit 45 mph on the not too steep downhill (as opposed to 50 mph on the steep drops yesterday). On the flat and slightly uphill bits someone always attacked which meant no respite for us average guys hanging on by the skin of our teeth ! Onto the flat valley road after Newnham Bridge. And oh shit, right after the turn was an uphill bit where I gritted my teeth to hold on. Then a little bit of flat, into the NE wind, it was hard. Hit the hills to Abberley. Up one, then another, I did'nt realise (No. I forgot, I rode this course in 1988 and came in a respectable 5th or 6th or 7th, and even then suffered on this hill) how long and hard this hill was. Well of course the attacks went, and instead of being one of the attackers, I just hung on, suffered, hung on, but then, instead of turning left into the village of Abberley, we went on to include a nasty little climb. Well, this did fo me. I lost contact with the leaders. If I rode near the fornt instead of the back this just would'nt have happened. Round the hairpin bend left turn, 10 M gap, just smashed, hooked up with the smaller group, or rather remnants of the race, we gathered up a few more, up to Clows, down the descent with the strong Dutchman leading the pace, along the flattish bit with the Dutchman doing sterling work. Up the climb to Abberley and a Horwich guy goes away and the Dutchman blows up. On the last nasty hill I really had to force my legs round,. Onto the final lumpy bumpy climb to Clows. Led out, pulled away but 2 guys, (Science in Sport and some Yorkshire guy) outsprint me. Now I'm cold. This is almost every race this year I've finished without raising a swaet. This can't be right. Its either too cold or I'm not working hard enough. Shit, it was an 8 mile ride back to the changing rooms, my hand were so cold by then. Now (22.30) I'm a bit drunk, but at least I'm warm. Txt over the weekend from H mentiong marriage. Scary.

Sunday, May 05, 2002

Oh, eurghh. Thursday drove home. Friday workied on some desings at home,did 1 hour steady ride in the evening. In the cold.
Off to race 1st stage on Saturday afternoon. Over a hilly course, 3 laps and it was fast ! The bunch was whittled down to about 20/30, sat on taking it easy.
Back home. Had to swop cogs over, the nice shiny new expensive TA ones were jumping.
Up early , did'nt sleep well last night. Off to the race, gave Pete Varian a lift. 1st big lap, felt bad. It was so cold & I was dying fr a pee. At end of 2nd small lap I punctured ! Shit. Got new wheel from service van, he helped me by giving me the wrong wheel. Anyway got it on, he started slipstreaming me. Dropped me up the hills so called me alongside and told me to hold on, scary at 45 mph ! Caught the cars following and moved my way up to the bunch just at the bottom of Gt. Witley hill, attacks went, jumped up stil feeling shagged after my chase, the race split, and I was now at the back. Down to Stamford Bridge at almost 50 mph ! quite near leaders, then they attacked. Up Stanford bank, god my gears were t big for this. My group began going backwards, my legs were shot. Got together with a small group & we worked. Down & onto last lap, suffered up Gt. Witley, down to Stamford Bridge, along & up t finish & I won sprint. Home. Icy at home. If my stupid wife is pissed off at my racing 3 days in a row thats tough shit.