Down to Business

So with the Christmas/December break behind me and another year over it was time to move on and get things back to normal. 2009 was a helluva a year, not least because I chose to take redundancy in the worst economic crisis in living memory and then decided to set up my own event business, SIP Events Ltd, and organise a mountain bike race; but not just any old mountain bike race, I thought I'd go for something that had never been done before, an event that many said couldn't be done - a logistically challenging 100 mile single lap off-road race in one of the remotest parts of the country. By 8pm on Saturday 5th September 2009, 200 people had proven the doubters wrong and the Montane Kielder 100 was receiving glowing reports from all involved! I think the free beer and burgers was helping though. It was without doubt the highlight of my year, possibly even the highlight of my last 10 years!

2010 was supposed to start with a big fitness kick - illness and bad weather put pay to that so I used the time to redesign and build various websites. SIP Events had a makeover, Kielder 100 had a small update and I also added the all important, all new 24 Hours of Exposure to the family (a work in progress).

With that little lot up and running I'm slowly getting back into the swing of things including some quality ride time. I have a good feeling about 2010, and so far it's living up to my expectations.

Merry Christmas?

I'm not so sure this year. It just hasn't felt like Christmas at all, despite the endless snow. It's the first year in a long time I haven't spent two weeks working solidly over Christmas - I was on night shift instead for three days. Coupled with the lack of decorations in my house due to the ongoing, er, decorating, there was a distinct lack of festive spirit.

I won't expatiate on Christmas day, it involved driving home from work in the morning, opening a couple of presents, sanding the bedroom doors, sleeping through the day and going to work again in the evening.

Boxing Day started off a little more exciting with the good intentions of going for a ride. It was a daring plan considering the still hazardous icy conditions on the roads. It's possibly my shortest ride ever and was brought to an abrupt halt at the end of my street with a loud "thunk". At least I think it was a thunk; it's that noise you and your bike make as you go from upright to horizontal in the space of a nanosecond, that strange clinking/thud sound, a "thunk". So it was back to the house for more DIY.

No work tonight so I hit the DIY hard all day. Well, at least until I set the carpet on fire with the paint stripper; I read somewhere once that in terms of driving and performing manual tasks, being awake for 24 hours has the same affect on thought processes and reaction times as being twice over the legal drink/drive limit. I can with some authority now say that that is indeed true. I put the tools away.

Glass of wine and a very early night for me...

10 Things Not To Do With a Broken Rib

After some extensive research over the last couple of months, all in the name of medical advancement of course, I've been compiling the definitive list of top ten things not to do with a broken rib. Some of these things have been stumbled upon in the course of everyday life, others have been pursued purely to benefit humankind so that others in a similar state of disrepair will not attempt such acts.

So, here it is, MountainBikeGirl's Top Ten Things Not To Do With a Broken Rib:
10) Get up, finish the lap and work for the following 2 days at a bike race - this will just extend the period of adrenaline fuelled painlessness and will ultimately compound the inevitable discomfort experienced when finally the 'morning after' arrives.

9) Paint the landing ceiling. This can and does in fact include painting any ceiling. I don't know why I thought painting the bathroom ceiling would be any less painful than painting the landing ceiling, or the stairwell, because it isn't.

8) Clear out the loft. Frustrated at not being able to paint anything or do DIY, it seemed like a good time to clear out the loft - because obviously pushing heavy boxes up through a small gap in the ceiling whilst hanging onto a ladder is totally different to painting the ceiling. I can now state with a certain amount of fact that these two seemingly very different tasks do actually involve similar movements of the rib cage and upper body muscle usage and both result in rib pain.

7) Rearrange the shed. Defeated in my attempt to clear out the loft, there was only one thing left to do - tidy up the shed, something I've been meaning to do for 18 months. Why would this be a problem? There's no reaching or stretching, hardly any upper body movement at all, it's just moving some old paint tins surely. No. My shed is full of bikes, boxes and cumbersome items. Moving anything, even slightly, involved a one-footed, unbalanced stretch to reach the intended item, whilst holding on to an unstable, precariously placed object exactly an arm and a fingernails length away. Once again this task was rapidly abandoned in the now familiar pose of right arm dangling and left hand holding rib.

6) Go Trail-Blazing. Quite often the event work involves finding new bits of trail or course to use. Nervous of riding anyway I was quite happy to get off and walk down anything I was unsure of. Sadly this was made all the more difficult by using a new set of pedals that aren't 100% compatible with SPD cleats whilst riding over rough, boggy grassland. I persevered until the fourth 'stuck in my pedals' fall, which also happened to be the first time I fell to the broken rib side, and called it a day. Sometimes, it's just not worth it.

5) Chopping down trees/machete work. Although I'm naturally a lefty, I'm distinctly more accurate with a machete when using my right hand. This means that a branch or sapling that would normally take 3 or 4 attacks using my right hand, takes about twice as many using my left - obviously resulting in more upper body work and more rib movement. So, do you take the chance and do less work with the more accurate but damaged side, or more work with the less accurate, intact side? Answer: play the "I'm just a girl" card and get a bloke to do it for you...

4) Lift metal crowd barriers onto the back of a truck. You'd have thought by now I'd have figured out the whole 'heavy-lifting, stretching, moving' combo was a no-no. It's amazing how an injury like this makes you aware of how much work your ribs and core are always doing.

3) Get a two-wheel drive quad stuck in 3ft of mud with no tow rope of any kind, in the middle of a forest, miles from the arena with no radios or mobile phones, just as it's getting dark with two escape options: a) I stay in the woods by myself in the dark with the quad while Paul takes the other quad to go and get help, or b) I drive the other quad back to get help, taking a route that either involves lying on the floor for 20 minutes with my hand up a gate post trying to undo the stiffest padlock in the world or taking a tricky off-road route and lifting two sets of Harris fencing out of the way. I tried both, after 20 minutes and huge amounts of shouting and swearing I gave up on the padlock and risked the unknown route. Over an hour later I arrived back with a tow rope and within 5 minutes the quad was free and we were all heading home.

2) Mow a 4ft high, uneven "lawn" covered in sticks and twigs with a flymo. Less of a flymo on this occasion, more of a liftmo - with me having to hold it in mid-air to get it to cut the grass whilst skimming over the covering of sticks left over from cutting down the 60ft Ash tree earlier this year. After 3 hours I'd managed to cut an 8ft square patch in the middle, the edges would have to wait, another few months wouldn't hurt and cutting the lawn twice a year is more than enough in my eyes!

And finally, the number one thing not to do with a broken rib:
1) Attempt to walk the full 180 mile length of the Offa's Dyke Trail in 6 days. Never has my body experienced such complete and utter shut down in a final and crippling statement of defiance. It had had enough. It was barely coping with what I'd been asking it to do for the last 5 weeks and this was just a step too far, literally. I'd made it through the first day, 30 miles carrying a full pack, but had started feeling dizzy and light headed towards the end. I put it down to not eating and drinking enough and was sure I'd be fine in the morning. I wasn't, nausea and blurred vision put an abrupt halt to the epic adventure after just 9 miles. I sobbed as Tony and the lads walked off into the distance and I promptly collapsed in a heap by the side of the road in Pandy - pale, shaking and weak with a throbbing pain in my rib. "So there!" my body screamed at me, "I tried to warn you, you wouldn't listen, and now look at the lengths you've driven me to." Fair point I suppose.

So there you have it, 10 things that you really, really shouldn't try and do with a broken rib, and if you do, don't say you haven't been warned. But I hope my research hasn't been in vain and if this blog post makes just one person think twice about attempting any of these tasks, then my suffering will have been worth it. Stay safe out there kids... ;-)

Absence

Well, I've been away a while and what a 7 weeks it has been! There have been plenty of visits to muddy fields for mountain bike races and venue recces, I've been up and down and backwards and forwards across the country, sent hundreds of emails and made dozens of phone calls to strangers.

I've started a new job; I've run my first mountain bike event and launched Britain's first 100 mile mountain bike race; I attempted to walk Offa's Dyke and failed miserably (more on that at some point) and had a sense of humour failure getting a quad bike stuck in 3ft of mud in the middle of nowhere at sunset.

Then there have been those surreal moments, like having an 8 hour conversation that finished at sunrise with somebody I barely knew. I spent a day at the Victoria and Albert Museum looking at 400 year old works of art; I saw Rowan Atkinson play Fagin (with a hint of Mr Bean) in Oliver! in Drury Lane, laughed a lot and sang every word of every song. I didn't go to Mountain Mayhem. That's right, I didn't go to Mayhem, for the first time in 9 years.

Sadly, the one thing I haven't done is ride my bike. Partly due to a rib that simply refused to stop hurting, but also I haven't had the time or motivation. I'm not in love with mountain biking at the moment. The fates have joined forces against me and I'm just not having a good year.

I've had this feeling before though, not just with mountain biking, but all the sports I've played throughout life and I find it's better just to give it a rest for a while and do other things. The feeling of wanting to go for a ride soon comes back. Trying to force a ride at this stage, knowing I'm not fit, that I'm not going to enjoy it and I'd rather be doing other things, is futile and will ultimately make me less motivated to ride and prolong the down time.

So it's a while longer off the bike for me, for no other reason than I don't fancy it. But as Dodger once said "I'll be back sooooon!"

Finished!!

Finally! After all these months and months and months of waiting for work to finally finish, it has! And I'm so happy and relieved and excited and cheerful and stress free and I'm really looking forward to my Summer now.

It's been an odd few days though, both before and after the leaving do (obviously, things never go smoothly around here). It started with a shopping trip on Thursday morning with Jodie to get new outfits for the leaving do Friday night. We both hate shopping, I really hate shopping in London, and to top it off it was raining. We were both doing surprisingly well until what will now and forever more be known at 'the Diesel incident'. I was trying on a pair of jeans in Diesel that turned out to be far too tight. Peeling the ridiculous tight pair of trousers back down my legs to my ankles I stumbled... out of the cubicle into the shop, banging my thigh on the handle. The young, male shop assistant looked stunned to say the least - and Jodie burst out laughing. I left in haste. I didn't really want a pair of jeans anyway.

Friday was the last day. I have to wonder how many P45s have been handed out amongst cheers, hugs, rounds of applause and popping champagne corks? Ours were. It was brilliant. Champagne. Lunch. Champagne. Lunch, again(?!) Champagne reception. Pub. Champagne. Champagne. More Champagne. (And I really have to say thanks to the guys at Green Media for a considerable amount of the champagne - there are some true gents out there ;-) I also have to say a really massive thank you to Nick Blackham, one of my managers, for being an absolutely top bloke over the last couple of months, and for some of the champagne on Friday. I couldn't have done it without him.

Not surprisingly, Saturday started with a hangover, and in fact ended with a hangover. (Note to self: don't drink that much champagne again in one day, it's just not worth it.)

Sunday should have been race day but I had a rather niggly shopping injury (see above) which meant my thigh went 'twang' on the first hill of the first practice lap at the first round of the Midlands XC series. So I spent the day soaking up the sun, with the odd bit of roving marshalling and course work.

Tomorrow I start my new life as an unemployed person, or should that be full time event organiser/consultant? Or maybe full time cyclists? Maybe I should call it a sabbatical? I'll have to have a think over the next couple of weeks whilst I'm finishing doing up my first house. It all feels really weird. I've been waiting for this for ages but now I can't get my head around it. Not that I'm going to have too much time to think about with the sheer amount of work I have to do over the next few weeks. I'm sure the time will fly by though. But, that time starts first thing tomorrow morning. Can't wait!!

I Think I'm Gonna Like It Here!

What a lovely weekend: relaxing mornings; fresh coffee; some tidying up; some DIY; tasty lunches; productive afternoons on the computer; freshly cooked, homemade dinners; stress free evenings listening to music answering emails and tidying up the desktop; early nights. This is a life I could get used to, and I so easily slipped into it. I even managed to get an Easter ride in and treat myself to a Cadbury's Buttons Easter Egg.

Just three more days of work left and then I can take it easy for the Summer. I should even have time to work through my things to do list whilst finishing off the house and taking long rides in the sunshine. I'm so excited to finally be finishing this chapter of my life and starting the next one - and I've only got a few days to wait!

Life is already better and care free. There was industrial action on the trains today and though I'd made a special effort to get to the station early, I still had to wait half an hour. I didn't care. The train was packed with Easter day trippers, I couldn't sit down. I didn't care. The exit barriers were too busy and I kept getting rammed in my ankles by pushchairs. But I just didn't care. Traffic in central London was chaos. Oh well, I didn't care. I sat at one set of traffic lights on Shaftsbury Avenue for almost 15 minutes - traffic wasn't moving and an ambulance was trying to get through, even though his lights were flashing and his siren was on, there was one female driver who would rather sit at the front of the queue doing her makeup instead of pulling forward out of the way and lose her hard fought place in traffic. At this point I did care. I wanted to find a large blunt object and throw it through the window, hitting her on the head and scarring her just above the beautifully mascara'ed eyes, so that she would never do her makeup in traffic again, and would pay more attention to the emergency services around her. (Not that I spent every second of the 15 minutes thinking about this you understand, I seem to have a gift for instantaneous creation of mythical scenarios - particularly if they're on the slightly evil side.) The rest of the day was delightful and care free.

Roll on next weekend!
(And yes, I did spend an afternoon on the sofa watching Annie. Admittedly it only just makes it into my Top Ten favourite musicals, mainly because of the annoying little ginger kid, but it has its good points and there are worse things than snuggling up on the sofa with a steaming hot cup of tea, an Easter Egg and a feel good musical.)

11 Bloody Days

11 eventful days. One evening I'm in London trying not to get drunk at what was the official closing down of ITV transmission at the London Studios. It was also the day I got served my redundancy which means I'll officially finish on the 17th of April. Thank God! Finally! I could feel the weight physically lifting from my shoulders and the stress draining from my body. It was fantastic.

Early the following morning I was on a train to Carlisle for a few days pottering about on soon-to-be mountain bike courses in the north. Kielder 100 is coming along nicely. The new Wild Boar 24 course has huge potential and then it was over to Whinlatter to help out at the Whinlatter MTB Challenge. This is where things took an unexpected turn for the worse. I had an accident involving a large, 25kg+ speaker crashing down onto the back of my head. Thinking there must be a bump forming I removed my hat and put my hand to the back of my head. It came back red. That's when the others noticed the blood running down the back of my neck. I've never had a serious head injury before and I have to say there's nothing more unnerving than seeing blood dripping from your own head - it's just not natural and all your instincts seem to be telling you to panic because there's something very wrong. Still, the week of rest probably did me some good.

Then it was off to Sherwood for the first round of the British Mountain Bike Race Series working with Martyn Salt for the first time. (He plays squash ya know.) I raced in the Masters category. I was rubbish. Maybe riding my bike over the winter would have helped. Hindsight is a wonderful thing. Full race report coming soon on the race page.

So, 11 days, hundreds of miles, 4 forests, 3 hotels, 2 mtb events and one very large scar on the back of my head. At least life isn't dull. And the Summer is shaping up rather nicely now I finally have my redundancy.

The Buzz of Live TV

Sometimes, I really, really love my job - I get a tingling feeling, butterflies in my stomach and a sense of truly being part of something special. It doesn't happen very often, but tonight was one of those rare occasions. Why? Because of Ant and Dec's Saturday Night Takeaway. Now, you may not like the show or the presenters, but in terms of real life, live studio, quality television production, it doesn't get much better than this!

The building and the studios take on an atmosphere; there's a buzz of excitement in the air, you can feel the magic of television. The "on air" lights flash red in the corridors which are ever so slightly clouded with smoke machine smoke, Studio 1 is in use packed to the rafters with a live audience, the scene dock is frantic with sets and props and costumes being moved, celebrities are being ushered around by an army of crew from dressing rooms, to make up, to green rooms and back again, Chris Akabusi and Jenny Bond are talking to Toyah Wilcox in the Luvvies Cafe and Take That have just wandered past. This is good old fashioned ITV Saturday night entertainment at its best - and some of the best in the business are downstairs in the studio making everything run smoothly. When ITV put their mind to it and tell the accountants and shareholders to sit down and shut up, they can actually produce some fantastic shows, just like the classic family favourites of old when they regularly got 15 million viewers on a Saturday evening.

Very little television is live nowadays, it's too expensive and too risky. But when a show like this happens in the famous London Studios, I'm proud to be part of ITV, you get the feeling you're working with true professionals who are passionate about what they do - this is what television is all about!

Sadly, tonight also marks the end of an era for me, and soon it will be the end of an era for ITV. My department was outsourced a couple of years ago to a company called Technicolor based in Chiswick and though a year overdue, the final channel migration happens in the next couple of weeks. This is the last day shift I will work here - I'm on night shift next week, and then it's all over. ITV's transmission has been here in the heart of ITV for more than a decade and I've been here 7 years. I'll be made redundant very soon and ITV will no longer be a complete television channel; it'll do everything except the thing that actually makes it work - the transmission.

I have to say I'm glad I'm leaving though. Moving the operation to a glass walled call centre on an industrial estate in West London is hardly the same as trundling across Waterloo Bridge every day, passing dozens of London landmarks and walking through the revolving doors of the London Studios (the ITV equivalent of the BBC's Television Centre) on the south bank of the Thames, having lunch in the canteen over looking St Paul's Cathedral. Every now and again pushing my way through the waiting paparazzi or crossing the red carpet of some awards show or other to get to work. It just won't be the same.

These are memories I will never forget. It's been a fantastic 7 years and I've had a great time with everybody I've worked with, I've met some real characters who have taught me a lot. It's been a pleasure to work with all of them (most of the time - working in such close proximity with the same people for so many years has caused the odd argument, think of us as the most disfunctional family you can possibly imagine and times it by 10, throw in some long hours, tiredness, PMT and some stress and you can just about imagine how tempers have flared.)

So good luck to everyone who's staying on at Chiswick, and good luck to everyone who will soon be joining the ranks of the unemployed during the worst economic crisis in living memory. I'm sure we'll all bump into each other again some day, TV is rather a small world after all...

More Snow!

This is the view out of my living room window at the moment:

And it's snowing quite heavily again. Most of the roads around here are closed, including the A41 and the A5.

We had another few inches of snow overnight, which is now sitting on top of all the ice and compacted slippery stuff. Not surprising nobody is trying to drive.

Can't wait to go out for a ride later!!

A Pendulum Week

Things have either gone my way or they haven't this week. Monday couldn't have been better, everything fell into place with the perfect ease expected from life. Having a working bathroom makes life a hundred times easier - a day at work, back home on the turbo trainer for half an hour, jumped in the shower, cooked a hearty homemade meal whilst supping a glass of fruity red and settled down to answer a few emails and watch a bit of television. Life is good.

My perfectly effortless world was brought crashing down as quickly as I was Tuesday morning - yards from my front door I slid on a patch of black ice. One minute I was happily rolling down the hill towards the station on my folding bike, the next I was lying on the cold, hard road looking up into the foggy darkness somewhat unsure of what had just happened. I'd ripped a large hole in the left knee of my trousers and the right elbow of my coat. I returned to my house, changed my clothes, cleaned up the blood trickling down my leg, patched up the missing chunk out of my knee and set off once more - making it to the train station just in time to see my train leaving the platform. The next train was 15 minutes late. As was I.

The day improved but when I arrived home I still felt nauseous so relaxed and had an early night instead of going for a ride. Wednesday was long and boring and by the time I left work I was thoroughly fed up again. When I got home and opened my post I had a fine for not paying my congestion charge last week, £60. Thursday was also long and boring but spirits were slightly improved and the day went without incident. Things were looking up again.

On Friday I regained my cycling mojo - this had disappeared sometime just before Christmas. I had an excellent morning ride on my usual road loop; everything just seemed to click and I was happyily spinning along for a couple of hours, enjoying every freezing moment. Then my train was delayed, again (I'm going to have to stop writing about that as you can almost take it as a given these days) and work was chaos from the minute I started to the minute I finished. I didn't even have time to eat dinner! It was a relief to finally get home knowing I had the morning to myself.

I intended to pop out for another ride this morning, but I woke up with the tell tale signs of the beginnings of a cold due to being worn down, so instead I made a nice breakfast, some fresh coffee and planned a new route for my next ride. I was late for work (you know why...)

Gun For A Day...

just one day a month, that's all I'd want. Just a license to kill with a gun for one day... a month. And the world would be a better place by Summer. Why the outrageous statement you ask? This morning riding through London from work to the train station traffic was heavy. There were lots of buses in the bus lane so I was between them and normal moving traffic. I had two red lights on the rear, I was wearing high viz and reflective clothing. I had stopped at every red light and pedestrian crossing. I was going about my business according to the highway code.

The particular section of road I was on was full of nasty pot holes so I was giving the buses a wide berth. Then some idiot in a private hire cab decided he wanted to squeeze between me and the next lane of traffic - promptly clouting me with his wing mirror and knocking me into the fortunately stationery bus!

The lights at the next junction were red so I pulled up alongside the car and knocked on the passenger side window. He opened it up with a smirk on his face. "Excuse me, do you want to watch where you're going a bit more, you've just hit me with your wing mirror" I said. "Lucky I didn't 'it ya wiv somefin else then innit" he screached at me in an annoying, high pitched, '40-a-day', cockney accent. What sort of bloody response is that?! Obviously he was disappointed he'd only clipped me and was trying to kill me instead. "Are you fucking stupid?" I shouted back and rode on my way.

Who knows what his passengers in the back of the car were thinking, but it's not a car I would have liked to have been in for any length of time. I still don't understand his response - what an idiot. What was it supposed to mean? Understandably I was fuming! Mainly because there was nothing I could do to stop this fool driving dangerously through the streets of London with no regard whatsoever for cyclists! It's people like him that kill cyclists.

That's why I want to get in first. If this had been the day, I'd have quite happily pulled up alongside the car and shot him in the head. Idiots like that are better off dead, at least they can't do any damage to others that way. Shooting him was my first thought as I pulled up alongside. After he'd made the ridiculous remark I wanted to drag him from his car buy his scraggily, curly hair and beat the living daylights out of him with my bare hands - that would have been more satisfying. Apparently violence doesn't solve anything, but I'm sure in this case violence would have stopped the possibility of future injury to cyclists.

It took me the whole train journey to calm down. After that the day improved - which is fairly easy after that kind of start. I'm particularly looking forward to a relaxing hot bath in my oh-so-nearly-finished bathroom. And this glass of wine, my first sip in over a week, is tasting particularly good. There are some perks to working a week of night shift - for a while everything you do is just so much more enjoyable!

The Things You Do

It's been an interesting couple of weeks with lots happening and more than once I have found myself pausing for a second just to get a complete picture of the situation I had found myself in.

For any readers of Tales from the Rock you'll know there was a minor vehicular incident last Tuesday - full story and embarassing phots on Tony's blog here. 'Drive Carefully!', yeah thanks Tony. It's the first time I've ever got my car stuck in 10 years of driving, and I was lucky I didn't hit the power lines! Despite this setback I still managed to get to the meeting with Welsh Cycling on time and all went well.

So it's Tuesday 6th of January and whilst most people are settling themselves back into their warm work places after the Christmas break, I spend the day wandering through pathless woodland in the Brecon Beacons scouting out the venue for the Cycling Festival. The temperature was still below freezing but I still managed to get excited at the prospect of what this forest may hold - the stunning scenery, snow capped hills, bright blue sky and crisp sunshine also played a part in the random giggles of joy.

Now, my friend Paul had driven us over to Crickhowell as I wasn't too happy with the state of my tyres after the incident earlier that morning. Leaving the estate we decided to pop down one of the lanes just to familiarise ourselves with the lie of the land a bit more. Up the hill and round the bend and the road opened out into a huge green field with a large house at the top. It was at this point Paul decided to stop and turn his van round. He began his 3 point turn in the narrowest part of the road next to the steepest part of the verge and no sooner had he completed point two of his turn, he found the van wedged between a fence and the grass verge. Half an hour later, in the freezing cold, dark evening, one of the estate workers used his Land Rover to drag the van out, sideways, down the road. It's the first time Paul's ever got his van stuck in 20 years of driving.

Back to my car and I faced the long drive home across the Cotswolds. Any of you that read this blog regularly will know I'm a great believer in 'signs' and listening to what the universe is trying to tell me. The A40 across the Cotswolds is twisty and dangerous at the best of times, with this cold snap who knows what condition it would be in. I didn't have to wait until I got to the A40; I got just past Ross-on-Wye on the dual carriageway and approaching the roundabout passed an accident on the other side of the road. 'Oh dear', I thought, and as I finished that thought the car took a rather skewed angle at which to leave the roundabout. Aha, black ice. I see. Heart pounding I put the three incidents of the day together and decided to meander slowly and carefully home that night, barely reaching the speed limit at any point. Home safe and sound once more; ready to spend another day in the middle of the countryside in the freezing cold, wind and rain. Oh the glamour.

Out of Pants

I had the best intentions when I woke up this morning but sometimes for your own sanity and to try to kid yourself you're still a functioning human being within the confines of society, you just have to resign yourself to the mundane life stuff and get on with it. So instead of riding my bike for a bit, getting some training in and doing some exercise, I made a rather startling discovery - I was out of pants. And for all those foreigners out there (I mean the Americans), I'm talking about underwear, not pantaloons.

What a sorry state of affairs. All the working and dashing around and planning and diary organising and this is what I'm reduced to - being pant less. In fact, as I looked around the house to take stock of things, I realised I'd let things slip quite a bit with all the extra hours I've been doing. This is the scourge of the single person: if you're not there to do it, nobody else will. Piles of washing everywhere, unopened post, washing up on the sides, perilessly thin tubes of toothpaste on the sink. It's generally not the done thing to do washing or clatter pots and pans around before 6am or after midnight when you live above someone and seeing as these are the only times I have been inhabiting my house, you can see how things got to this state.

So the morning was spent doing the washing and the washing up, tidying up a bit and I squeezed in a trip to the local shop to replenish some of the basics. I did manage to get in a half hour on the turbo trainer though, so all was not lost. And the house looks a million times better. (How long it will stay that way is anybody's guess!)

"You Got A Friend In Me"

This is my mate Jodie on Christmas Day at work (she was a bit tired):

I didn't realise until she said, but we've actually spent the last 7 Christmas Days together, and it will be the last one we spend together in this job. Says a lot about the relationships we form in our line of work I think, how many other people can say they've spent 7 Christmases with a work colleague? Cooked each other breakfast? Shared Christmas dinner?

We made a day of it again. We've been known to go a little crazy in the past, possibly cabin fever due to the amount both of us work over Christmas - it normally involves a dance session of some kind. It started whilst we were watching a music review of the year one Christmas, we danced our socks off until we couldn't dance any more! Everyone thought we were mad, but you have to do something to make the day feel a bit different, a bit special, try and enjoy it even though you'd rather be somewhere else.

It's become an annual tradition now and this year started with Radio 2 and by a funny twist the Disney song "You've Got A Friend In Me", very appropriate, followed by a listener request for "Nelly the Elephant". It soon moved on to a full on YouTube request session: crazy dance moves, a few twists and jives, lots of jazz hands and tears of laughter. In all honesty it was a pretty good Christmas Day, one of the best, just me and Jodie messing about again in fits of laughter. I'm going to miss my Christmas Dance Sessions with Jodie.

Dance like nobody's watching. Sing like no-one can hear you. Work like you don't need the money.

Merry Christmas!

I thought I'd get in nice and early, plus I'm bored at work. I do love Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory and Santa Claus the Movie this morning was great; I'm trying to avoid the playout of Mary Poppins as I don't want to peak too early and I've got all day tomorrow to get through as well. Shouldn't complain, plenty of people have far worse Christmases than me, even though I spend the entire time at work, hardly strenuous (I basically do what everybody else will be doing on Christmas day - eating, drinking and watching TV, except I get paid).

The start to life as a 30 year old has gone fairly well, things are kinda falling into place, stuff is getting organised, diaries compared and plans discussed. There were a few stresses at the start (though technically I suppose I could class that as the last few hours of being 29, maybe I deserved it. Maybe it was life's way of getting it all out of the way before I turned 30.) But all is moving along in a jolly festive spirit - long may it continue I say!

So, the first event I'm organising is sort of out in the public domain now so there's no turning back. There are big plans afoot and The Slick n Knobbly is just one thing I'm involved in next year. Obviously everybody is invited, the more the merrier! (And yes, this is a blatant plug, but it's my blog and I can write what I want ;-)

Hopefully my blog will become a bit more interesting again and a bit more bike orientated, otherwise I'm going to have to start reminiscing about the good old days of adventure and stupid ideas. (Steve, what happened to all the stupid ideas anyway?!)

Anyway, have a very merry christmas everyone!

S x

30 Not Out

So it's my birthday tomorrow. I'll be 30 years old. To be honest, I never thought I'd make it this far, too many stupid, drunken, risky decisions as a teenager and student. But I somehow always managed to come out of it smelling of roses and stumbled through a series of tricky, sometimes dangerous situations. And here I am.

And just lately I've been thinking quite a lot about where exactly that is. I'm 30 years old. I'm single. I've never had a proper relationship. Most people I consider friends don't even know it's my birthday tomorrow (for many years a lot of people didn't even know my surname, I was just 'Sara'.) And in a couple of months I'll be out of a job during the worst economic crisis the world has ever seen. I find myself waking up in the morning and wondering what the bloody hell I'm doing, where am I going and what's the point of it all.

I think about those questions a lot. I've had discussions about them with far off 'friends', sometimes even strangers. And however negative and depressing and self-pitying this sounds, it's actually not. I'm 30 years old but everybody says I don't look it, I certainly don't act it. I'm young, free and single (and a terrible flirt!) I can do whatever I want, whenever I want, with whomever I choose! I'm headstrong and independent. The world is my oyster.

I have friends all over the country and all over the world and over the years these have been whittled down to the ones that understand me. They know they're only going to get a phone call or an email once every 6 months, they know they won't get a birthday card, they're aware of the fact I just may turn up in their town one day and send them a text telling them to put the kettle on. And they accept it. They know that's me. I don't have any hangers on. All of the people I currently consider my friends are true friends no matter how infrequently we speak. They will be my friends for life. And just recently I've started to realise the importance of these people - Gina, Em, Mike, Miggy, Tom, Davies, Jodie, Chris, Dan, Steve, Tony and a few more. Friends are good, I know that now. (I'm normally a fairly quick learner but this seems to have taken me a while - better late than never though.)

As for the rest of it, I love my life. At times it's not been easy, the early years were difficult. But the way I look at it, everything I have ever done, everything that has happened to me, everybody I've met and every experience I have ever had, good and bad, has led me to where I am now, to this very point in time and made me the person I am today. And I have to say it all feels pretty good. 2008 has been a difficult year, the most stressful I've ever had in fact. But I'll be leaving 2008 as a better person. I've been coasting for far too long, never really challenging myself, and now a convergence of events has given me the kick up the backside I need.

Tomorrow feels like the start of a whole new life. 2009 is completely unknown and my life is going to change dramatically, but I have the opportunity to make it one of the best years ever. I could wake up tomorrow and change anything or everything, the same as anybody can any time they want to. The first day of the rest of your life is probably a good time to do that obviously, though I wonder if you have to do it first to realise it's the first day of the rest of your life. Hmm, I'll have to ponder on that one... a chicken and egg scenario by the look of it.

And there we have it, my reflection on the first 30 years - in short, it was brilliant. (God that sounds weird saying that; 30. And I know some of you are feeling really old now, I met a lot of people who read this blog back when I was a teenager!) I'm really looking forward to the next 30, I get butterflies in my stomach just thinking about next year. So many opportunities, so many things I want to do - and there's really nothing stopping me. Nothing at all. You can't see it but I have a cheeky smile on my face at the mere thought of the possibilities.

Tomorrow is a whole new world and I can't wait to go and enjoy it with you all!

Riding Keeps Me Sane

A friend of mine mentioned the other day how bored he gets doing the same routes over and over again and because of this he was losing the enthusiasm to ride. At the time, I agreed with him. It can be rather dull doing the same routes, especially road riding by yourself. I often try to vary the routes that I do or take a map out with me and try a new lane or track, just to see where it goes and to keep things interesting.

But sometimes, doing the same old route can be very therapeutic; you can just drift off into your own little world without having to think about which way you're going. It's a good time to think about things without any distractions and for me, it's a good opportunity to get rid of some of the pent up stress I'm feeling at the moment.

This week I only did one ride, but I certainly needed it. It's been a rubbish week and I've been going crazy. There's a lot of moaning, stress and in-fighting going on at work and it's not a very nice place to be. Starting the ride I was angry, annoyed and fed up - why are some people just so damn right nasty?! I kept running through various confrontations in my head with an 'I'll show them!' attitude; planning my revenge.

At some point though, it all disappeared. I was riding my regular 25 mile road loop and noticed there was a filming location down one of the lanes. Then I started to look for that trail head I'd found in the Summer, that was a fun little track. Next came the oh so perfect little coppice which would be brilliant for either kids racing or a really fast night cyclo-cross race! A track on the right with the dodgy root that can catch you out if you're not careful. On down the hill past Ivinghoe Beacon and my legs were still spinning without effort, the cold wind blowing through the vents in my helmet. Up the steep hill, legs feeling good, heart pounding, breathing heavier than usual (unfit, I'm not surprised but it's good to expend some extra energy and effort).

By now I was more interested in the scenery and spotting new trails in the woodland. I slowed down to fully appreciate the crisp morning as I passed a herd of deer grazing by the college and watched the squirrels darting around in the leaves. I smiled. Angst? Stress? Moi?! Who gives a damn about some of those fools I work with, what are they in the grand scheme of things? Nothing. As long as I can get out on my bike and do the thing that I enjoy the most, I can cope with the rest. No matter how infrequent or short a ride, just getting to ride now and again and everything else just drifts away.

I went to work without a care in the world and a spring in my step and let all of the problems pass me by. Maybe if everybody rode bikes, the world would be a better, happier place?

Peak Riding

I finally managed to get away for the weekend and spent a great couple of days around Ladybower Reservoir in the Hope Valley, Derbyshire. It was to celebrate the occasion of an old university friend turning 30 and as such he'd gathered a group of his cycling friends together as well as a couple of old faithfuls Mike (aka Miggy due to the confusion of two Mikes being best friends) and Tom who I also met at university.


Laura and Lisa on the dirt track to Mike's parents.

Sadly Tom couldn't make it as he's off making his fortune. And sadly, Miggy almost didn't make it either with a rather lucky escape involving the dark, winding lanes around the reservoir, a missed turn, some slippery roads and some poor judgement. But we've promised never to speak of that again. It's not the kind of story a wife wants to hear in detail. So moving on swiftly...

The weather wasn't great on Saturday and I haven't ridden for a while so decided to go on the easy ride with the ladies, rather than the testosterone fuelled gnarl-fest I sensed was going to occur with the boys. I don't often get to ride with a group of women, actually I don't often get to ride with a group of anyone, but hey ho. So a gentle trundle around the reservoir sounded like a good way to spend a dreary Saturday afternoon in November.

I couldn't believe how many groups of riders of all ages and abilities we bumped into. In some cases, literally. (Ahem, Laura!) Whilst me, Kirsty, and Lisa played 'child dodgems', Laura was still using the old novice excuse and playing 'child bumper cars'. The three of us all managed to negotiate our way through hoards of weaving, unsteady children, then there's a "ooh, ah" doof! I turn around to see Laura standing in the middle of a group of stationary, confused and annoyed looking children. 75 beer points to Laura! (Bloody beginners luck if you ask me... ;-)


Kirsty above the reservoir close to the house.

Lunch stop at Mike's parents overlooking the reservoir was all very civilized and then it was back to the fantastic Ladybower Inn to scrub up into my Sunday Best for the birthday dinner and less civilized consumption of copious amounts of alcohol.

Much laughter, fun and mickey taking was had with friends old and new. Even though Mike, Miggy and I only get together once every couple of years, (and I have to point out how much we were all missing Tom!) I've known them for 10 years now and we soon slip back into the old student ways. I should see them more often and we should really get together more often; busy lifestyles, different interests and separate groups of friends seem to prevent it though. But we all understand this and make the most of it when we are together (Tom! Where the hell were you?! Why weren't you there?!)

Still, great friends, great riding, great digs, great food and great beer. Great weekend all round.

Plumbers Squashed!

This was the scene in my bathroom the other night. It wasn't pretty. All I can say is, it's a bloody good job they'd decided the bath needed to be raised or I might have an accidental permanent resident by now! (Sorry Mark ;-)

To be fair, everybody put in a fantastic few days work - electricians, plumbers and poor old Paul, who used to be the plasterer but has now turned into a builder, chippy, painter and tea boy. It's funny to think that if I wasn't a mountain biker, none of this would be happening; I'd never have met Paul at Mountain Mayhem and would never have taken on such a renovation project without his help, advice and contacts.

So after some longs days, a lot of hard work and a fair amount of head scratching, things are moving along nicely. With any luck it should be finished within a few weeks and then I can sit back and relax for a bit. Well, actually, when I say 'sit back and relax' what I actually mean is instead of spending every spare minute doing DIY, I should actually be able to find time to ride my bike, socialise, have some adventures, tidy up the website and get on with the little project I'm doing next year - in between ridiculously long working days.

Actually, I might stretch the DIY out a bit longer - it sounds much easier than doing the other stuff!

Not very exciting...

This week, I will mostly be working. In fact, I'll be working so much, that the working time directive has told me I have to take a lunch break every day. So I'm listening to these words of wisdom and have decided to put the enforced break time to good use - I went for a run. It was only a short run because I haven't been for a run for about 2 years. But it's a start. And in the absence of any riding possibilities, it's better than nothing.

Working time directives suck. Enforced break time is painful. I'd much rather sit in my chair watching afternoon television drinking cups of tea. But I'm not allowed. So tomorrow I shall don my running gear once again, and head a little further down Old River Thames (that's assuming that I can walk obviously). It's no real hardship though as I'm having to shower at work anyway (see the post below ;-)

Running time today: 25 mins

This week, I 'ave mostly...

... been demolishing my bathroom:


To this:



No, I'm not making an en-suite, but I am making it bigger. Fortunately Paul Davis was here to help - though why he wouldn't let me loose on the wall with a huge hammer I don't know! (Secretly I think he was really enjoying it, I mean how often do you just get to totally demolish something and take out all your aggression using a really big hammer without any consequences?)

Also rather fortunately, Paul is an excellent plasterer. After the initial hiccup of cutting off a large cast-iron pipe in the middle of the new bathroom, to find that the tap had stopped working many years ago and I had a lovely trickling water feature in the middle of the room (with nothing but my beautiful, brand new kitchen ceiling and halogen spotlights stopping the water dripping right through to the new kitchen), the walls were knocked out, new walls built and Paul set about plastering the whole room.

I still don't have a bathroom, that's being done next week. But I do have a larger, newly plastered room. I now have to go out and buy all of the things that constitute a bathroom, and that is a very, very, long list. Somehow I have to do this whilst working double shifts every day next week. I feel some serious internet shopping coming on... to be continued...

Motivation

Sometimes I find it hard to get out of bed and go and do something. This morning I found it hard not to get into bed and do nothing (the first night shift will do that to you). I didn't last long. An early start yesterday and a trip across the country for a meeting with Epic Cycles in Tenbury meant by mid-morning today I'd already been awake for 30 hours. Sleep was needed. Sleep is good.

It seems I'm not the only one lacking motivation at the moment either. Work is in chaos and showing no signs of improvement. I won't go into full details but the brief background is my department was outsourced last year and a plan started to relocate in June 2008 - missed that deadline. The relocation to Chiswick involves working somewhere nobody wants to work, doing a job nobody wants to do, working for a company nobody wants to work for. So much so that in this current climate of economical turmoil and unemployment, most staff are actually thinking of leaving. (They're offering us a 'finders bonus' if we recommend a new member of staff for God's sake!)

So with this in mind, and the fact that staff morale is similar to the FTSE100 (just when you think it can't go any lower, it drops a few more points) and stress levels at an all time high, (8 months ago we had 30 engineers running the place, now we have about 12) this was a scenario that came about the other day:

- The Vice-President of the company was standing with a group of managers at the new location. Deadlines are whizzing by like traffic on the M4 outside - you know it's there but it comes and goes without any real impact. A new deadline is approaching and, remembering everything I've just said, the VP comes out with these motivating, inspiring, pearls of management wisdom, "If we don't get this place up and running in two weeks, we're pulling the plug!"

Apparently the minor management were seen giggling in the corner and the staff let out a loud cheer; the biggest improvement in morale and staff solidarity that has been seen in many months. With this renewed vigour for the ailing project, they then went and put the kettle on...

I do love the people I work with sometimes.

October Already

It's been a busy couple of weeks, really busy. And it doesn't look like slowing down any time soon. So, in brief:
Dusk til Dawn - wet, muddy, dark, miserable. One lap. Lots of chocolate.
Work - dusk til dawn. Overtime-tastic. Yay!
Shopping - bath suite, lights, electrical bits and pieces, tiles, paint, tools, I could go on, but this list is exceptionally long - I never realised a bathroom contained so many bits.
London Cycle Show - 2 days, 25 sponsor proposals for a new event we're running next year. Lots of patter and a sore throat.
A new iMac Intel Core Duo - yay!
An iPhone - double yay!!
Riding - today, 20 miles.

That's October so far in a nutshell. It's nice to be busy and finding time to ride. There's lots of work to be done over the next few months, both on and off the bike. Exciting though.

Enough now... no really

September has not been my month. Whilst some of my friends have been clocking up hundreds of miles, having fantastic holidays and generally enjoying themselves. I haven't. It started well with a committed and determined start to a 30 in 30, and at times there were glimpses of the good life, but it didn't last for long.

My boiler was fixed after 5 visits from the gas man and 6 weeks without hot water. My radiator is leaking.

I sorted out the insulation in the loft. The fuse blew on the lights downstairs. The hallway light blew on the upstairs ring main - either downstairs lights with no lights as I came in and out of the house, or upstairs lights and cooking by the light of the hob.

My week of convalescing in the Lake District was all very pleasant with a good mountain walk or two; in dreary weather. My only ride of the week resulted in the biggest crash I've had in many years. A big, hard, fast crash. Bruised and scraped from my right shoulder down to my right knee, including my ribs. A good chunk out of my right elbow and a lump the size of a tennis ball with a rainbow coloured bruise on my hip. I hit my head and cracked my helmet. Fortunately Hyacinth, my Maverick ML7 only suffered superficial damage to her handlebars and brakelevers and a slightly buckled rear wheel. Fortunately her fall onto the jagged rocks was broken by my stunned and helpless body. Lucky her. I gave the Grizedale Mountain Bike Challenge a miss the following day.

Traffic on the way home on Sunday night was dreadful so I got back in the early hours of the morning to cram in a few hours sleep before an early start to some long days at work. A heavy schedule over the next few days, coupled with a repairing body, the continuing course of antibiotics and the damp from sleeping in a tent all week gave me a wrotten cold. I still have a wrotten cold.

On the way home from work on Friday various pedestrians, cyclists and drivers seemed determined to kill themselves and/or me, by completely ignoring every single line of the Highway Code and their common sense. My journey time home was doubled by roadworks and heavy traffic on the M1.

Ah, my front door by midnight. But no hallway light. Time for a shower. The shower head flew off and hit me on the forehead. I sighed. A deep, shoulder-dropping sigh. I looked around for someone to give me a hug, one of those "don't worry, everything's going to be alright soon petal now dry your eyes and be a big brave girl" hugs. There was nobody there. I sighed and put my head under the pathetic dribble of warm water that was coming from the remnants of my shower head.

One more long day at work and then a day off. I think I'm just going to curl up on the sofa and try not to hurt myself, break anything or burn the house down.

Bring on October, please...

Getting Better...

...in more ways than one. I seem to be on the mend, still another week of antibiotics to complete though but more importantly a variety of things have happened over the last couple of days to really turn my week around. I've changed my plans for next week as well. I've read many a classic novel which tells of Victorian ladies retiring to the countryside to convalesce. I shall be doing the same for most of the week with a camping trip to Beatrix Potter country; just me, some good books and some better wine.

On Friday I found the energy to have a complete spring clean of my bedroom, kitchen and lounge. The bedroom is now immaculate and I plan to keep it that way - a tidy house is a tidy mind as they say and I always feel a lot better when my bedroom is looking clean and tidy.

On Friday evening I found out registration is open for the 2009 Tour of Ireland, hurray! It's not often I get excited about entering an event but the Tour of Ireland is different, it's special - you just have to read my previous TOI blogs to find that out. I'll be entering it as soon as I get back from my holiday and it's really given me a kick to get back on the bike as soon as humanly possible and will be my motivation throughout the long, cold, winter months (I'm actually giggling with excitement about it).

Everything else just seemed to fall into place over the weekend and was topped off in style with a 20 minutes firework display on the way to work to mark the end of the Thames Festival. Now I'm not one to sing the praises of city living and I'm normally bleating on about how I can't wait to go and live in the countryside, but I have to say it's things like this that, just for a second, make me love London.

Bad Timing

Well I finally have to report that I have been beaten by the 30 in 30 challenge. Again! I've been putting it off for a couple of days in the vain hope that I would be able to pick it up again without anyone really noticing, but it wasn't to be. I'd made such a good start, even riding in the rain, even enjoying riding in the rain! I'd been eating well and only drinking moderately and had an excellent set of rides lined up for the following week. 30 in 30 was going to be positively joyful.

On Saturday I was supposed to do a race over near Windsor, but as my alarm went off at 6am I could barely drag myself out of bed and I didn't surface until 1pm - I still managed to squeeze in a ride though. (Who'd have thought early Friday nights out on the orange juice could take it out of you so much?!) By Saturday evening I really wasn't feeling great.

Sunday came and went and I barely moved from the sofa. Fast forward to around 4pm today and I'm doubled over in pain in the front seat of my car, mouth watering, head resting on the steering wheel and unable to focus. I managed to stumble across the car park and into the GP's surgery. A confirmed infection, some painkillers and two weeks worth of antibiotics prescribed. Still too light-headed to drive I was given a cup of tea and some biscuits. Forty-five minutes later I'd finally gained enough strength to make the drive home, and spent the rest of the day on the sofa.

Hopefully I'll be well enough to ride next week, though my motivation to ride, in fact my motivation to do anything at the moment, has completely gone. I'm well and truly fed up.

Satisfaction

I like DIY because there's always a real sense of satisfaction, a sense of pride in your work, a feeling of instant gratification and noticeable results; the feeling that all the hard work you've just put in has all been worthwhile and time well spent.

Today was a DIY day and in honour of Joolze Dymond's birthday, I have named my pantry after her. Dymond's Pantry: Before and After. (After hours of filling, sanding and painting.)



You see! A job well done and a day well spent!

Malvern Meandering

Went for a quick spin over the Malvern Hills today in Worcestershire. It's somewhere I've been intending to ride for years now, but every time I'm in the area I get caught up at Eastnor or just end up passing through.

My new dekerf, 'Olive', is urging me to ride though. I can hear it taunting me from the back of the car: "Let me out... let me out to do what I was built to do. Get off your lazy fat backside and justify the astronomical price you paid for all of these shiny new bike parts you flamin' idiot!"

With that kind of motivation, how could I resist! I had to drop some bits off at Back on Track bike shop in Malvern. I should also say a great big thank you to Paul at Back on Track for doing a fantastic job of building my new bike at short notice a couple of weeks ago. And for letting me take over the whole shop for the 2 hour discussion involving four people and three members of staff to figure out what forks and wheels I should have. I swear Posh Spice, Paris Hilton and Jennifer Lopez could have picked an outfit for the Oscars quicker! But you have to get these things right, right? And it does look ace now! (Photos coming shortly by the way.)

So I parked in the car park just above the shop and asked Paul for some route advice, bought the waterproof Harveys map he sells and disappeared into the hills. It's fairly hard to get lost to be honest. The Malvern Hills is just one ridge line a few miles long encircled by roads - you can either traverse along the hill or climb up to the top, descend to the road, then climb back up another track and repeat. When you get bored, you just head back. Though it would be hard to get bored here. Even looking at the map there's a myriad of legal bridleways to be explored, and who knows how many unmapped trails!

A couple of hours playing on a wide variety of trails - gravel, stoney, grassy, rooty, muddy, steep, steady, technical, tight, wide and fast, the Malverns seem to have it all - and I decided to head home. Olive had done me proud again on her second outing and I'd had a blast riding new trails. Can't wait until I have another spare day to get back and explore some more. I think I have one in October sometime...

Dogs Resemble Their Owners?

I'm dog sitting this week for my Mum who's gone on holiday. I'm actually dog sitting my dog Sox, at least he was my dog when I lived at home. Then I moved out and having a pet when you live on your own is quite difficult, so he stayed. But he's definitely still my dog.

People often say that dogs look like their owners and I've always thought this to be true in a majority of cases. I'm not sure whether Sox looks like me. He's a 16 year old Border Collie, so he's black and white but greying. He's also fairly rounded now thanks to foot & mouth a few years back when the dog walking field was closed. I'll try and get a picture at some point, you can judge for yourself.

But it has been said that he has my personality too. Again, I will let you judge for yourself:
1) When he's fed in the evening, he stands and looks at you with a "yeah, and..." look. Then promptly wanders off somewhere for a while and returns when he's hungry. He does things at his own pace, not when other people want him to.

2)He barks at everyone who comes to the door and will continue to growl at most people who make it into the house. It's only really some family members who can stroke him without him constantly growling with a mad look in his eyes. He doesn't do that thing where he shows his teeth and gets really upset, it's more of a low grumble growl, just to let you know he's tolerating your presence, but doesn't really like you.

3) When you tell him to go down the garden to do his business, he just lies down outside the back door. He lies there and watches you as you walk down to the bottom of the garden, and when you call his name he looks the other way. He certainly has the ignorance to back up his stubborn streak...

4) We thought he was going deaf due to his age. He's not. He's selectively deaf. And brilliantly so. Stand and call his name to get him in, or to send him out, or to move him from one room to another, in fact any kind of instruction, and he won't listen to you. But every single evening, when the truck pulls up outside my Mum's house, just before it pulls into the driveway, he barks. He can actually distinguish the sound of the truck arriving amongst all of the other traffic on the busy road. And he can hear the scraping of his food bowl as you pick it up off the floor. He can even hear the distinct tone in your voice during the word "Sox" that means 'come here I'm going to give you a treat'. He truly is ingenius.

5) Last, but by no means least, and the thing that I most admire about good old Sox, is his ability to hold a grudge. A 15 year grudge. 15 years! The story goes that 15 years ago, only a few months after we got him, there was an incident involving my 5 year old brother. We're not sure what, but they were both in the car, there was a yelp, a bark and then some screaming, then the dog ran off and hid. Sox had bitten my little brother on the cheek, narrowly missing his eye (personally I think he was provoked and was defending himself, but we'll never know. I know). He got the beating of his life as a punishment and never went near my brother again. My brother kept his distance too. It was only after about 10 years my brother could actually get within a foot of him without Sox growling and walking away. And still, to this very day, 15 years on, Sox will growl every single time my brother touches him. Now that's a grudge.

God I love that dog! And all his familiar quirks...

It's A Good Life

700 miles, 6 days, 5 cycling venues, 4 hotels, 3 bike rides, 2 new beers and a curry with an old friend - throw in a machete, an Army Major or two, some old trails, some new trails, some 'are you sure this is going to work' trails, lots of mud, more beer, even more rain(!) and Joolze Dymond hanging out of the back of her car taking photos and that was last week.

It kinda reminded me of my student days and my first years at work, when I'd take all my cycling and walking gear and disappear for a few days. It's been a long time since somebody asked me where I was staying that night and I said I didn't know. Thankfully my friends still realise that I could turn up on their doorstep at any moment wanting a hot meal and a bed and are very accomodating.

I like that; That feeling of going where the wind takes you for as long as you want and doing what you want. There's a certain sense of freedom that comes with it. It's very simple freedom but can be hard to attain these days (especially once you've bought a house and got a proper job - though some would say I've yet to get a proper job).

So now I've got the taste for it again, hopefully there's more in store. Though where on earth I'm going to find time to wander off for a week this year is anyones guess. My next couple of months and the logistics involved have been planned with military precision; Something I've only had to start doing over the last few years. I still prefer the old way, it's so much more fun.

Happy St George's Day!

"God for Harry, England, and St George!"
I had a million and one things to do today, but decided to go for a few pints of real English ale to celebrate St George's day instead - I've always got a million and one things to do, but today only comes around once a year.

I love St George's day. There was a great atmosphere in the pubs today with plenty of people wearing St George's flag badges and red flowers in their button holes. Apparently the paraphernalia has out-sold the paddy's day stuff this year - maybe the Union Jack and St George flag are no longer the sole property of the BNP and other such extremists but can be worn with pride by all English people everywhere.

Talking of busy, if the last couple of weeks are anything to go by, it's going to be a long summer. I've already done two races in two weeks (G2 Revolver report coming soon) and I'm spending the weekend at Enduro 6.

I don't even have time to unpack these days, but that seems to be working in my favour. Bags of snacks are still strewn across the kitchen floor and almost everything else I need should still be in the car from last weekend. My kit bag resides at the top of the stairs and every time I walk past a piece of used, muddy, smelly kit comes out and is thrown into the washing machine, being immediately replaced by a new fresh piece of kit that had been lounging on a radiator for an unspecified length of time. So apart from sundry day clothes and essentials, I'm pretty much ready to go at the drop of a hat. Very handy when I only seem to be spending an hour at a time at home.

Better go. Lots to do before the weekend!

Don't Panic

As I said the other day, it's not very often I talk about work, I don't often have anything to talk about seeing as my job entails watching TV - no really, it does. But we have our fair share of fun and maybe our unfair share of cock-ups: like the time we accidentally put porn to air during the Richard Littlejohn show; or someone sat on the machine and rewound Coronation Street whilst it was on-air; or the time we switched out the local news rooms too early, at the very moment the news presenter was chatting to the director about the affair he was having (that one made the newspapers).

The problem is, is that if normal people make a mistake, press the wrong button, pop to the toilet at the wrong time, then maybe they'll miss a phone call, or send an email without the intended attachment. If we make a mistake, millions of people see it.

That happened this morning. I pressed the wrong button. The studio PA did the usual countdown to the local news and instead of doing nothing (which is what we do now, due to aforementioned cock-ups of switching out loose-lipped news readers), I pressed the button (which is what we've done for the last 10 years).
"What did you do that for?" exclaimed my colleague, Jodie.
"I don't know," I said.
"What do we do now?" she asked.
"I don't know!" I said.
"How do we get back?" she screamed.
"I don't know!!" I screamed back.

Panic was in the air. "Two minutes left on the news" said the studio PA. Right, two minutes to save our arses from the diabolical mess we were now in. We looked at each other with a look that said "you bloody idiots, I can't believe it, what are we going to do, I don't know, hold me, help, I'm glad you're here, pull yourselves together" all in the space of a nanosecond.

"One minute on the news." The PA was counting down to an imminent catastrophe with her calm and unwaivering voice of doom, still oblivious to the chaos we were in.
Jodie threw in her suggestions and like a chess grand master (ahem) I assessed the impact of each possible button press - nothing so far. "30 seconds..." came the voice. Frantic typing put an event into the electronic schedule that would buy us some time - "3, 2, 1..." I pressed the button and we were back.

But we weren't! But some channels were, and some weren't. More frantic button pressing and all looked good. Numerous phones rang and were all answered with "yes, we know, bit busy right now". Our makeshift would only get us out of jail for so long, 3 minutes in fact; the time we had to the next commerciall break. Lose one of these and you're in big trouble!

The PA rang, my hands were shaking and my voice was quivering, still unsure what we were going to do. So far, the viewer at home would hardly have noticed there was a problem. In reality, we were in a mess, and our next actions would either save our bacon, or land us right in it. This is where professional studio crews really come into their own and my garbled explanation of what was happening didn't even phase the PA.

We made the decision to use the backup tape for the next commercial break, realising we would lose commercials (that alone is way more than my annual salary, never mind the fines incurred!), put makeshift events into schedules, pressed emergency buttons and were basically flying by the seat of our pants. "Two to the break." I pressed the button. Please God, let it work. It worked! I could hear Luke Skywalker in my head, "almost there, almost there" as he's flying down the centre of the Death Star.

Calm and collected we knew what we had to do and got on with it, reloading schedules, checking and double checking automation information, events, timing, durations, everything in fact. We might come out of this ok if we could just hold it together for the next 3 minutes and 53 seconds. "Ten on the break...2, 1..."

The GMTV studio sting came up, on all the screens, on all the channels, across all outgoing lines, on all the satellite boxes - it worked! We'd made it! We were back on track! A nervous sigh of relief. And only 30 seconds worth of commercial losses with minor collateral damage on the programme - jesus, how the hell did we manage that?!

Manic giggling ensued. That could have gone a hell of a lot worse and been a complete disaster. But we'd somehow saved the day, somehow. Bizarrely, through the initial panic and not doing anything, we'd saved ourselves. And through that moment of panic, we'd reached a state of calm, clear headed thinking.

Another story to add to my (long) list of 'times I've taken the ITV off air'. Oh you wouldn't believe how many times that actually happens! Professnioial? Us? Yeah, course we are...

Happy Anniversary!

There's been a flurry of activity down here over the last few days finishing off some bits of DIY in a vain attempt to stop my house looking like a building site/laundry room. It's been a whole year since I bought my first house and I had big ideas of what I wanted to do and how long it should take.

A year of racing, travelling, holidaying and generally faffing about somehow got in the way, as well as an enforced 'do nothing' couple of months when I had a chest infection. (This cunningly came right at the point where everything was waiting to be sanded or stripped - the very things that had caused the chest infection in the first place!) So everything just sat, static without progression, just waiting to be prepped for it's final stage of decoration.

By the time I was well enough to start again, I couldn't be bothered. The motivation had gone. Realising that excusing the state of my house with the line "I've only been in a couple of months" was starting to wear a little thin, as well as becoming rapidly untrue, I decided to get on with all those fiddly little jobs.

So, in April 2007 my list of jobs consisted of:
1) decorate master bedroom
2) fit new kitchen and decorate
3) extend bathroom and fit new bathroom suite
4) decorate second bedroom for visitors
5) do the garden

Right now, my list of jobs consists of (and this is massively abbreviated and generalised because somehow every time I finish a job I create 3 news ones!):
1) Finish decorating master bedroom and paint door and door frame. Patch up scrapes etc
2) Finish painting kitchen, woodwork and fit new door etc
3) Get carpet for second bedroom, finish decorating.
4) Start bathroom
5) Stare hopelessly at the massive task that is going to be keeping the garden under control again this summer whilst racing, travelling, holidaying and generally faffing about.

Hmm, best laid plans and all that. I think I'll just open another bottle of champagne to celebrate the fact that I actually managed to get a mortgage and buy a house - which doesn't seem to be that easy these days - and continue to write my enormous and ever-growing list of jobs to do.

Another one bites the dust

Day 20 went ok. I had to wait in for a delivery so spent an hour on the turbo. The couriers had said they'd be here between 7am and noon, so obviously they turned up at 11.55, great! As I'm on night shift, it was time to go to bed after that.

Day 21, Thursday - this is where it all broke down. I'd arranged to fly up to Edinburgh for the day to visit Endura. So having got up at 6pm Wednesday evening and worked a full night shift, I drove straight to the airport and caught a flight to Edinburgh Thursday morning. We spent the day discussing womens cycle clothing and trying on the Endura womens product range.

My 6pm flight home was slightly delayed and then traffic meant I didn't get home until 20.15 - I had to leave for work again at 21.05. That left a maximum of 50mins ride time, never mind having to get changed, showered etc. Scuppered! Failed. There simply weren't enough hours in the day.

Still, 20 days in a row is the most riding I've done in a long time. And I might start again in April, we'll see.

A Stolen Day

It seems I've been on the go now since the start of February - yes I've been on holiday, but it was hardly relaxing, and when I've not been at work I've been dashing around the country, or grabbing an hour on my bike, digging the garden, digging trails, painting, sanding, fixing, cleaning etc. Every moment of every day is filled with something I need to be doing and a never ending jobs list.

Today I phoned in sick. Around 8pm last night, with the prospect of getting up at 5.30am this morning, my body finally gave up and told me to sit down and shut up. So today was an unexpected free day, a stolen day, a void in time and space.

Not surprisingly I woke up late, around midday. I had nothing planned and no jobs laid out as I wasn't supposed to be here. I decided I would ignore the jobs list pinned to the notice board; I would continue to step over the pile of junk in the hallway; the bare wooden skirting board and half stripped doorways wouldn't bother me; and my email account simply didn't exist. Today would be my day, to do what I wanted to do.

And so endeth my day. With nothing done. (Nothing of note anyway.) And now I'm ready to enter back into the chaos again, refreshed and rested, satisfied with my Stolen Day.

Time To Get In The Game

So three days of being really very ill (how come I can camp rough at 4000m in Africa for two weeks, weeing into a hole in the ground whilst standing on who knows what with no running water, eating 6 day old food that's been carried up in sweltering temperatures, using hands ingrained with filth, and feel fine, but get a stomach bug from my first meal on the friggin' plane! Top Tip: Don't fly Kenya airlines).

Anyway, three days feeling ill, two days intense DIY desparately trying to finish my kitchen and two solid days work; (well ok, two 16 hour shifts with a late night drinking session in the middle that went on long enough to make going home a pointless exercise) All of this has meant that I never quite got round to starting my "30 in 30" challenge that a group of friends are doing at the moment.

Basically the "30 in 30" challenge is to ride at least one hour a day for 30 days and March was the chosen starting month. I'd pretty much written it off by now, seeing as most people are on day 6. But having read the various blogs and comments from people doing it, plus the fact that I haven't been on my bike for three weeks, I've been spurred me on to start tomorrow!

That's right! You read it here first - I am starting my "30 in 30" tomorrow, first thing! Straight out of my lovely, warm, cosy, comfortable, soft, snuggly, relaxing, restful, hardly-been-slept-in-for-3-weeks-in-favour-of-a-sleeping-mat-on-a-frozen-mountainside-and-oh-my-god-how-I've-missed-you-,-I-promise-I'll-never-go-away-for-that-long-ever-again-ever bed...(sigh)

Ahem! Sorry, I digress... Er, right, yes, hang on... oh yes, "30 in 30", starts tomorrow!

Wish me luck!

Disclaimer: The author of this blog reserves the right to totally renege on any promises, resolutions or statements made at any point during his or her ramblings and this document in no way constitutes a binding contract. In the likely event of adverse weather conditions, the probability of reneging on such promises, resolutions or statements is greatly increased and the author cannot be held responsible for her actions of staying in the item previously and henceforth known as the 'bed'. All rights reserved.

Is now a good time to mention I'm giving up alcohol for the rest of March as well...

Jambo! Mambo!

Finally back from my adventures in Africa and many a tale of success to tell. February really has been a fantastic month. It was great to ride up in Todmorden again with all the friendly old familiar faces, share a beer and generally catch up without having to type at 100wpm! Chipps's 40th birthday ride was slow and relaxed, as was expected, and made all the better for his sisters homemade coconut ice - I haven't had that since I was a child!

The cold, crisp weather highlighted the hills in all their Calderdale glory. It also meant I was freezing and the ambling pace was hardly sweat inducing. I managed a quick coffee for a final few chats before having to drive home Saturday night to catch the plane Sunday morning - I have to say leaving was quite hard. I just don't get to ride with those guys enough any more and I see CG (G as in Chris) about twice a year if I'm lucky.

But there's no better excuse to leave a group of your best mates in the whole wide world having fun and getting drunk gearing up for a hell of a session, than catching a flight to Africa to fulfill a life long ambition; as excuses go, I reckon it's a valid one.

And so to the big story: actually you'll have to wait for that as I've got hundreds of photos to sort through and the garbled ramblings of a daily hand written diary to decipher. It'll all be up on the adventures page very soon. Needless to say, it was ace! Here's a summit day taster:

Pancake Day!

Hurray for Pancake Day! I love Pancake Day (as well as Christmas). It was pancakes with kiwi fruit and mango this morning, pancakes with the customary lemon and sugar for lunch, and a proper dinner followed by - you guessed it - pancakes! With a variety of toppings including chocolate spread.

I fully intended to go for a ride at some point, but the weather was totally rubbish and I got side tracked with painting, tidying, web stuff and er, making pancakes.
I have a feeling that this weekend is going to hurt as I'm nowhere near as fit as I hoped I was going to be. Doh!

Unlikely phrases...

Popped out for a ride this afternoon in the low winter sunlight. Only 20 miles, but it was a lovely gentle spin along the quiet lanes of Hertfordshire with a little bit of exploring thrown in - a few lanes and tracks that I'd never been down, just to see where they come out and which bits of bridleway they could link together.

Trail spotting mode was on maximum scan, with a huge amount of potential around for the next time I get Surly out. Home, tea and cake on the sofa and as I stood up to close the curtains the stunning sunset actually made me stand at the window and look out on the world whilst uttering:

"And the sun sets on another magnificent Hemel Hempstead day!"

I wonder just how many people in the world have ever said that?
Sunset pic for reference by the way, just so you don't think I'm completely mad:

Happy Birthday To Me!

Yay. It's my birthday today. Another year older. Though somehow I feel like I've aged more than a year this year. Why? Because of this:
This was one of my birthday presents, and no, it wasn't just one of those presents a random relative buys you because they don't really see you that often and have no idea what you like or what you want so get you something they feel you should have - I actually asked for this!

At some point earlier this year I think I might have grown up - I bought a house, I started DIY, I set myself a budget, I had a training regime, I prepared for races, I even gave up drinking for a while, and I started gardening. I actually became rather sensible. (I only went on four holidays! How sensible is that?!)

But no more! If 2007 was a year of sensibleness, 2008 is going to be a year of immaturity; bring on the spontaneous trips across the country for coffee, bring on the stupid bike rides where we barely escape with our lives, bring on the all night drinking sessions. Being grown up is too dull and boring for me - even if it is cheap. There's so much to do before I'm 30 and I can't do it on a budget...

Christmas Indulgence

I love Christmas. I don't know why. I just do. And I find everything quite magical around Christmas - the decorations, the lights, the carol services, the markets, the atmosphere, everything is just brilliant at Christmas.

And this weekend is always particularly good. For the last couple of years I've been away for a Christmas/Birthday treat weekend with my Mum. We've been to Brussels/Bruge, Copenhagen and this year we decided to stay in good old London town (because I'm skint from doing up my house). The weekends involve cramming in some culture in stunning cities of Europe; Cathedrals, museums, old buildings and the like, but basically revolves around the sumptuous Christmas Markets! Mulled wine, mince pies, cakes, gaufres, chocolat, gluhwein, glog, cookies, biscuits, venison sausage, kase, vin chaud - if it's sweet, yummy or alcoholic, we'll try it. If it's sweet, yummy AND alcoholic, we'll take a box of it! It's a weekend of pure indulgence. When it doesn't matter what you eat or drink, or indeed how much it costs, as long as it's good and it's Christmasy.

So I'll just pop into the kitchen and warm up some more homemade mulled wine on the stove, heat up a brandy laced mince pie and pour over the Cognac cream. Best open that next box of liquer chocolates as well, the night is young. I love Christmas.

Brain Melt Day

I had one of those days yesterday, you know, where everything is just that little bit more difficult and you can never quite remember what you were supposed to be doing. I think it's because I was distracted with the idea of going back to work.

It started with the post. I had a couple of letters to send. Now, I may or may not have put a stamp on one of the envelopes, but that may not matter because I may or may not have included the cheque in one of them, and I may or may not have signed that cheque anyway. I'm not sure, I got distracted.

Then I started to tidy up. Half way through tidying up I noticed the sun glaring through the smudged hand prints on the window. I put down the polish and duster - which are as yet to be rediscovered - and got out the white vinegar and newspaper to clean the windows. I subsequently misplaced the top to the vinegar bottle which is now making my whole house stink! Yes, it is that potent.

I gave up trying to do anything soon after this and sat down with a coffee and a creme egg. But who cares, it's CHRISTMAS!!