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!!