Chilworth

On Sunday my Lovely Young Wife and I went for a walk on the North Downs.

We started and finished at the Percy Arms in Chilworth. It's a bit of a chain pub and doesn't have much to recommend it. Least of all the terrifying price of their ale (£3 a pint!). What was interesting was the fact that they seemed to have more staff than punters and they (the staff) all sounded South African. Very strange.

We headed off through some pleasant woodland and crossed the river Tillingbourne before heading uphill and across open fields for about 1.5 miles. As this was the hottest day of the year so far, we were glad when we came to a shady tree.

After the farmland the path headed past Chantry Woods.

[What is a Chantry? There's a shopping centre of that name in Andover, near my office.]

The path headed inexorably up the downs - you've got to love the English language. Where else would high ground be called 'downs' - and we followed the North Downs Way to its high point at St. Martha's church.



There's been a church on this site for around 1,000 years, but this building dates back to the 18th Century. It's a bit remote and one wonders if they have much of a congregation on Sunday mornings, but the church's primary function was originally as a stop-off for the devout walking the Pilgrims Way from Winchester to Canterbury.

A very steep path then leads down from the church, for around a mile through more farmland, to the derelict and overgrown Chilworth Gunpowder Mills.



The mills are a fascinating place. Gunpowder was manufactured here for over 300 years until the workings closed in the 1920s. For most of that time they were one the most important industrial chemical works in the country. It's odd seeing them now, around 80 years later. Where once explosives were made, hikers now walk. And the canals, rather than carrying barges of saltpetre and charcoal are now full of laughing, splashing children and fathers building dams from discarded stonework, their trousers rolled up to their knees.

One scary indication of the size of the mill is that one accidental explosion caused the demolition of the tower of St. Martha's Church. A mile away and a couple of hundred feet higher up the downs!



Nowadays all that remains are some derelict buildings, some watercourses (some in use, some dry) and many large, heavy millstones. The ones in the picture were about 4 or 5 feet in diameter.

I took a few pictures, as you can see here, but there are far more and far better to be found on Flickr.

A Blessing. And A Curse.

Monk. What a great TV show.

If you haven't seen it, then I urge you to. It's up there with Columbo as one of the more intelligent TV cop/detective shows.

Adrian Monk is different because he has multiple phobias, obsessive-compulsive disorders and autistic symptoms which plague his life, but which make him uniquely able to solve cases that have the regular police stumped.






I think we all have bizarre behaviour like this sometimes. Mostly it's harmless.

For example, when I'm hanging out the washing I always have to use matching pegs. It doesn't feel right unless each item of clothing has pegs of the same colour. Or if they're wooden pegs, they have to be pairs of old ones, or new ones.

It's odd. But not a problem.

I'm pretty sure that it's the only 'compulsive' quirk that I have. Do you have any?

Goggle-Eyes

Why does watching TV have such a bad press from various 'intellectuals'?

Various people who decide that they are to be our arbiters of good taste and excellence in culture deem that watching telly is a "bad thing".

One of the problems I have with these people is the fact that the alternatives they come up with are usually no better than TV anyway. Let's face it, the alternatives to TV that these snobs come up with always involve theatre, opera or art galleries, for some reason.

Now, I love the theatre, as you probably know. Can't stand opera, but that's just me and I don't condemn those who do enjoy and understand it. But I really can't understand those stuck-up people who seem to insist that, somehow, "live" art-forms are better than television.

"Sitting in front of the TV for hours on end without moving rots your mind". Yet, these people don't mind going to the theatre to watch an interminable Wagner opera (which consists of sitting down for hours on end to watch the show, but you can't get up and get yourself a drink when you like - only at the interval, when Herr Wagner says you can finally move).

"TV is just mindless pap". Oh, and I suppose that no-one ever wrote a book that was mindless pap, or a play, or a film, or a musical (Andrew Lloyd-Webber, anyone?). And, I'm sorry, 90% of the modern art I've seen IS rubbish. A con-trick.

"TV is a one-way process. A passive medium. The viewer isn't engaged by it". Huh? I'm sorry, but when was the last time you went to the theatre or the opera or an art gallery and started interacting with the actors, or with the canvas. If you did that they'd throw you out of the place or have you committed.

I'm sorry, I just don't get it. Sure, there is a lot of mindless pap on TV that should never have been made. But there is also a lot of fantastic drama, comedy, documentary and uncategorisable stuff that anyone should watch and be edified by.

Don't tell me that Run For Your Wife is funnier than Seinfeld.

I don't believe that Cats is better than the Buffy The Vampire Slayer episode Once More With Feeling.

Do you seriously expect me to believe that Tracy Emin's My Bed has more artistic value than Twin Peaks?

Bereft

What are we going to do today? What are we going to do tomorrow?

I'm talking about the football, of course. For the first time since 9th June, there's no World Cup footie on the telly!

But I've got into a routine (go to work; talk about yesterday's matches with the guys; sneak into the break room to watch as much of the afternoon match as possible; go home; have tea; watch the evening game; go to bed; repeat) and for the next 2 days I will feel a little lost. I guess that my Lovely Young Wife and I will have to catch up on all the stuff we've been saving up on Sky+ for the past 3 weeks. She's got about 12 hours of Eastenders to trawl through. And we've still got to catch the last episode of Prison Break and the last couple of Lost.

[Does my life revolve around TV? Yes. It does. It has done since c. 1975 and it will do for a long, long time to come.]

OK, so we only need to wait until 4pm on Friday and it all starts up again with Germany v. Argentina. 2 days of Quarter-Final action. Then there's another break until Tuesday and Wednesday (Semi-Finals). Then another break until next weekend: The Runners-Up match and the Final.

By which time excitement will either be at a hysterical fever pitch (if England manage to get that far) or the country will be plunged into a pall of gloom (er, let's face it, this is the more realistic outcome).

Though heaven knows how we're going to cope when it's finally finished. What will we do for the long six weeks until the football season proper starts up again?

What Would YOU Do?

I would love to be able to jack in my current job and do something else.

I've worked in the IT industry since 1988 and I'm fed up with it. Partly because I haven't really progressed much. Oh, my salary is handsome enough, but I've been doing more or less the same job for almost 20 years.

Friends and colleagues over this time have moved on to new and exciting challenges every 2 or 3 years - accumulating responsibility or new skills or moving into completely new arenas as opportunities are presented to them.

Somehow, though, those opportunities have passed me by and now I'm sick of doing the job I do.

My main reason for being unable to move is, unfortunately, debt.

For one reason and another, at the time of life that many people have almost paid off their mortgages, I find myself badly in debt and still renting. Don't get me wrong; some of the blame is definitely mine. But through a combination of bad-luck and bad-judgement I find myself wishing, most days, that the National Lottery will provide a way out.

Of course, being in-debt means that I need as much salary as possible, so I stay in my current career, because I know that a change in career will mean a huge drop in income, at least for a few years until I prove my worth in that new job.

So - for now I am unable to contemplate a move to my "dream job". Which is good because, ironically, I don't really know what that perfect job is - but here are my current thoughts on what I'd really like to do with my life:

• Theatre Director.
• Something in Graphic Design - because I really enjoy designing the posters, flyers and programmes for our shows - though my drawing skills are rubbish.
• Film, Video or Sound Editor.

So - unless you fancy offering me a job doing one of these things on my current salary, maybe you'd better tell me YOUR dream job instead?

Pass the Ointment

Hooray. Dave, Sally and I finished the London 2 Brighton Bike Ride.

We each raised a ton of money - so thanks to everyone who contributed. If you haven't done so yet, you can do so here!

According to my bike's computer (yes, I'm that much of a geek) we covered the 54 miles in around five-and-a-half hours of cycling time, at an average speed of around 9.5 m.p.h. Although, what with stopping to take on water, sun-cream, burgers and lemon-curd sandwiches at regular intervals it actually took us more like 9 hours to do the journey.

[The overall time wasn't helped by the fact that we were moving very slowly, then stationary for about 30 minutes, due to a multiple pile-up requiring the presence of at least 2 ambulances. I hope those involved weren't too badly hurt.]

The lovely Mr Estall has contributed some fine words about the journey on his blog. And I've posted some pictures yesterday, during the event - I was too knackered to take many - plus a few more that I took in Brighton today while I recuperated (and My Lovely Young Wife browsed the many shoe shops and jewellers that the town has to offer). They're all in my London 2 Brighton Set on Flickr.

L2b ditchling

L2b ditchling,
originally uploaded by PTMoore.

47 miles into the London 2 Brighton ride and the slightest incline induces us (well, Sally and I) to get off and push. So you can imagine our trepidation at the thought of the 1.5 mile, 1:8 climb up Ditchling Beacon.

Mind you, Dave rode up the whole way - well done Dave - so I bought him an ice cream at the top!

L2b before

L2b before,
originally uploaded by PTMoore.

It's 8.30 am and we're waiting to start the London 2 Brighton Bike Ride at Clapham Common. Sally's cheerful enough - but Dave's grumpy. Even though he's just had a burger and a cuppa!

Braaaazil

The sight of Brazil's portly, lethargic, what-the-hell-am-I-doing-here?, buck-toothed striker in the game with Croatia gave My Lovely Young Wife and I some food for thought yesterday.

Was his lardy disposition caused by eating too many burgers? And if so, were they sold by a sinister looking clown called Ronaldo McDonaldinho?

"Go..."

"...And never darken my towels again" - Groucho Marx.

My Dad got me an Insult-A-Day calendar for Christmas. I thought it was going to be fantastic. A new word each day to use to insult some of my more cerebrally-challenged moog-like colleagues. Words like "twunt", "munger" and "spoon".

Instead it's full of witty epithets from the likes of Groucho, Dorothy Parker, WC Fields and Henry Youngman (who?).

Some of the insults though are crap. Not ineffectual or vapid. Just crap.

The worst I've come across was yesterday's. Not only was it rubbish as an insult, it could also be taken as a huge compliment. Which is a bit bad when you're trying to insult someone. Here it is now:

What can I say about Hilary Clinton? She is as honest as the day is long... in Antarctica!
-- Joan Rivers

Obviously the joke depends on knowing that the days in Antarctica are very short during the southern hemisphere winter. But during the summer, the days are very long indeed. So it doesn't work as an insult. It's rubbish.

You know - thinking about it, I'm quite concerned that I got so worked up about this. But it's got me back into the blogging saddle after a couple of weeks of inaction.

Quiet, isn't it?

After this week the run of Habeas Corpus will be over and I can get back to posting regularly here.

In the meantime, because I am so vain, I thought I would collect any reviews for the show in this post. I'm also posting them on my other blog, but as that one will be mothballed soon, I wanted to have them here for posterity too.

First review is in already. Of course, it might be the only review, but in case it isn't I'll add any new ones here as and when I see them.

Thanks to the lovely (but probably biased) Clare at Adventures in Amateur Dramatics for this lovely review.

Dave 'Delmonti' over at the Lobster had this to say.

Thanks to the fragrant Sandy Hurle for this contribution:

It was certainly not an amateur show! 'Twas thoroughly professional in all respects.

All members of the cast were entirely believable ... timing was good ... the script was learnt brilliantly with no missed lines (... none that I spotted anyway) and the set was stunning.

My only small criticism is that perhaps the ladies of the cast could have removed a few more items of clothing. (Just a personal, totally objective view ...).

NO, THE SHOW WAS BRILLIANT!*! WELL DONE TO EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU INVOLVED (Inc. The Director ... whoever that might be!).

If you're a masochist, you can also see many, many pictures of the show at Ian Olsson's website.

The report is also in from our NODA rep. It's too long to reproduce here, but you can see it over on the Habeas Corpus blog.

Lately, In Brief

Work.

Bikes.

Sleep.

Habeas.

Food.

That's all!

Busy Busy Busy

It's still all go in our household.

Bikes

Only 3 weeks to go to the London 2 Brighton Bike Ride. So if you haven't sponsored me yet, you've still got time!

Unfortunately, it's been raining pretty heavily and almost constantly since the last time I was out on the bike, nearly 3 weeks ago, so I haven't had a chance to do any extra training for the extra mileage that the Brighton ride entails.

Luckily the weather seems to have broken, so I'm going to need to get out a couple of times this weekend and make up for some lost time.

Acts

And rehearsals are continuing apace. Less than 2 weeks to go now until the play opens (7th June, since you ask) and while you can find more details over here I'm sure you'll be delighted to hear that it's all going really well. BUY TICKETS! All we need to do now BUY TICKETS! is cross our fingers and hope that our subliminal BUY TICKETS! advertising BUY TICKETS! brings in some extra tickets.

Films

Tonight sees the wake for the FantasyFilmLeague. In about 20 minutes, as it happens. I wasn't in at the beginning, but I enjoyed writing film review (from DVDs mainly) and getting up at 4.30am on Saturday mornings to appear on the David Lawrence Show and expose my awful lack of knowledge about films. I think that if only we'd got paid for it we would still be doing it to this very day. Ho hum!

Dan Brown? Pah!

I've stumbled upon an enromous conspiracy, of global proportions. Check out the evidence:

Moon River.
The Pink Panther.
Peter Gunn.
A Shot In The Dark.

All songs by famed American songwriter, Henry Mancini.

But take the right words from these song titles and you get the following anagram:

'Thrive or Top-Rank, prankish demon.'

This, surely, can only refer to the huge number of cinemas which became Bingo Halls in the 1960s and 1970s.

Obviously, the US tunesmith owned shares in the fledgling Bingo industry and used his string-heavy arrangements to drive audiences away from the movies.

I know I must be onto something, so later this week I'll be flying to LA to talk to Burt Bacharach. He says he knows something, and I need to get the information from him before he talks to the mute, albino orchestrator (Andre Previn).

I'm taking the precaution of putting all I know in a manuscript, safe in a bank vault, in case I don't come back. You'll recognise it by the beige cover with the title in Times New Roman:

The Mancini Code

Done it!

Yes, as you'll have seen from the pictures I blogged today, I managed to complete the Thames Bridges ride.

Thanks to everyone who sponsored me. I managed to raise something in the region of £750 for the Stroke Association.

A marvellous effort from everyone who contributed. Thank you all very much.

Thames Bridges Bike Ride 4

Sally and Dave - my riding companions for the day.

Thames Bridges Bike Ride 3

The other view from the start line. City Hall.

Thames Bridges Bike Ride 2

This is the view from the start line. Tower Bridge! Just to prove I did get to the start and I didn't just catch the train to Kingston.

Thames Bridges Bike Ride 1

On the train, on the way up to London for the start of the ride.

Note how the orange train livery matches my bike's.

Change

Apparently my Blogger template wasn't displaying properly in Internet Explorer (it was fine in Mozilla/Firefox). Mum let me know earlier, so I've changed the template. Hopefully everyone should be able to see it all now...

Why Oh Why?

The government argues that speed cameras reduce accidents and reduce the number of drivers who break the law by speeding.

If that's true, why don't they introduce serial-killer cameras? Eh? Eh?

Because it doesn't bring in enough cash to the left-wing councils, that's why!

Cash that they spend on intrusive and ugly CCTV cameras, spoiling our lovely towns. How dare they! Why can't they spend the money on crime prevention instead?

They should spend the money on more policemen to go out and arrest hoodie-wearing ASBO kids.

But we pay their wages so they'd better not arrest us as we drive our barely-one-quarter-occupied, enormous 4x4s round residential streets at 45mph. Anyway we wouldn't have to drive our brats the 1.3 miles to school if the roads weren't so dangerous.

Only last Christmas my husband (who's something big in the City) saw a film about a central-European immigrant gypsy in a brightly painted vehicle who snatched children off the streets with the promise of sweets.

If Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang teaches us anything, it's that we have to drown all these asylum seekers at birth!

Oh, hello nurse. Is that my medicine?

This message was sponsored by the Daily Mail]

You again?!

Two blog entries in one day? Has the world gone mad?

Probably.

Actually, I've just set-up the online sponsorship form for my 2nd charity bike ride of the year.

London 2 Brighton 2006 on Sunday 18th June.

This is the long one (for me). 60-odd miles from Clapham Common to Brighton, via some pretty villages, the North Downs, some busy roads, the South Downs, several pubs (hmmm...) and the fearsome Ditchling Beacon - the largest hill north of the Matterhorn. Apparently.

If anyone reading this would like to sponsor me, it's all for a worthy cause (British Heart Foundation). You've probably already donated to my Thames Bridges ride this coming Sunday and if so, you're excused. Everyone else - please dig deep. I need the encouragement of knowing that people are spending hard cash if I'm going to be going on 50-mile training rides in the coming 6 or 7 weeks...

So, please click on the link above, or over there (-->) in the sidebar.

Thank you!

Sore

Apologies for the paucity of posts of late. The play seems to be taking up quite a lot of my time.

And when I'm not busy doing that, I'm out on my bike training for the first of my two charity bike rides this summer.

Last Saturday I managed a creditable 29 miles. The ride itself is 32 miles, so I'm now confident I will manage it quite easily.

And this gives me a chance to introduce one of my favourite websites. It's the GMap Pedometer. Designed around the Google Maps API, it allows you to manually work out a cycling or walking route by double-clicking way-points on the map. Much better than using Google Maps own direction-finding software (or any other for that matter) as they all cater for car journeys only. With this website, you can wander off down footpaths or across fields, as you see fit.

And you can save your route as a link. Here's my route from the weekend: http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=169584

Pondering

Here are some questions that have been puzzling me this week:

• Why is the weather lovely each day when we're at work, but it pisses with rain at the weekend when we want to go out, cut the grass, hang the washing on the line, etc?
  
  
• Why am I able to get up in time to get to work for an early start (8am), but I always leave too late when I'm working the late shift (from 10am)?
  
  
• Why do window-cleaners put their cards through the door, touting for business, but when you ask them to clean your windows they never show up?
  
  
• Why are recruiment consultants deceitful, two-faced, workshy bastards?

Roll Up!

It's time for me to bug you with more requests to empty your pockets.
Yes, the Box Office is now open for Habeas Corpus, the play that I am directing.
If you can't be arsed to follow the links all the information you need is below. Rehearsals are shaping up very well indeed - all the cast are up for it and I think that the final results are going to be hilarious. I hope that you will come along and see the show - it should be very enjoyable.

Ottershaw Players present

Habeas Corpus

An hilarious farce by
Alan Bennett
(The History Boys, The Madness of King George, Talking Heads, Beyond The Fringe)

Rhoda McGaw Theatre, Peacock Centre, Woking, Surrey.

7th - 10th June, 2006 at 7.45pm

Tickets £9
(£7 concessions)

Phone: 01932 702091
Email: boxoffice@ottershawplayers.co.uk.

Cor. Luvverly!

While we were staying with Martin and Tracey last weekend, we had lunch at the Globe & Rainbow in Kilndown. Fantastic food. I had liver. I love liver.

It's odd though. Loads of people detest liver. Jon spent most of the meal making gagging noises because he had to sit next to me. But I really like it. The best meal I've ever had was goose liver - on the 87th floor (I think) of the Jinmao Tower, Shanghai. Fantastic.

I also love Marmite. Which is on a lot of peoples' hate list.

But I can't stand various things that most people seem to love:

• Tomatoes.
• Broccoli.
• Coronation Street.

I like spinach, green beans and mange-tout. I can't stand peas. What's that all about?


I don't like scraping the bottom of the barrel. But it seems that's what I'm doing with this post!

Easter Weak End

Four days off work. Yippee!

So why do I feel as knackered now as I did on Thursday? Let's examine the evidence...

Thursday evening: off to Kent to spend the evening with Jon and Martin at the pub quiz. We came 2nd! I drank 3 whole pints of beer (count them) and that's enough to get me pissed nowadays.

Friday: Stayed over at Martin and Tracey's in the very dark and quiet village of Kilndown and spent the day larking about with them, their kids Wills and Hattie, and with Jon & Lin and their new arrival, Emma.

[OK - she's not that new; she's a year old: but it's taken us FAR too long to get down there for a visit.]

Friday night: back in time to watch Sunderland hand the league champonship to Chelsea by holding United to a 0-0 draw. Bloody Mackems!

Saturday: Up early (ish) for a bike ride. 14 miles to Staines and back. But I did stop for an ice-cream at Penton Hook lock. Then back to do my accounts and get showered before The Wife's parents arrived for dinner.

Sunday: Nothing to do. A long lie-in. Spoiled by a support call from work at 6am. Balls! Then lunch at The Castle.

Sunday afternoon: a long drive in the countryside. It's official - I'm now an old man. My trilby and sticky-out ears are on order from Saga.

Monday: Up early (ish) again for another long bike ride. 23 miles this time, to Kingston and back. Walking like John Wayne for the rest of the day. Then round to mater and pater's for a spot of luncheon. Then back home to spend too much time updating the family-tree again.

Today: back to work. Bum!

Confused?

Back in the 1970s (I think it was) Helen Reddy sang:

"I am Woman, hear me roar."

I think she was getting confused with lions.

Famblies

Nan

I wrote about my Nan the other day. Unfortunately, she died two days later. I guess it was a blessing/release (and all those other platitudes we use to try to stop ourselves feeling upset). She turned out to have been a great deal sicker than anybody suspected when she went into hospital. And I know that we all have to go sometime, but I still think I'd prefer to pop off in my sleep, with no idea that I was even unwell.

Nan was a kind, generous person and we're all going to miss her.

Trees

The events of the past few days inspired me to start recording some family history. Nothing complicated (I thought at the time), just a record of who was who, when they were born, etc.

But our family is nothing if not complex (as, I suspect, is everyone's once you peel back the years).

I've already had an account setup at GenesReunited.co.uk - a site which you can use to record your family tree - so I logged in and started updating what was there and adding various grandparents, etc.

Trouble is, it's an addictive pastime. I seem to have spent most of my spare time over the past 3 days registering for various websites which hold census, birth, marriage and death records and scouring them for pertinent information. And the deeper you go the more you want to find out.

It really is an absorbing activity and I can understand why there's been such a surge of interest in genealogy in recent years. Nostalgia as a whole seems to be big business - and I'm not immune; I've ordered some books and software from Amazon to use when I get more time.

Mum commented that if I carried on at this rate there might be another divorce to add to the family tree, so I think I'll give it a rest for a bit and get into it again when I've finished directing Habeas Corpus.

Pedal Power

Training for the Thames Bridges Bike Ride continues apace.

Saturday afternoon was a lovely day, so I decided to go for a ride along the Thames towpath. My aim was to get to 6 or 7 miles before turning back.


In the end, I managed over 9 miles, before realising that this meant a round-trip of nearly 19 miles! But this mean that I did get to lovely Hampton Court Palace - with only 1 stop too!


Once at the palace, time for a quick lie-down on the grass bank overlooking the river. Very relaxing. Until I realised I was laying very close to a pile of dogshit. Yuck. So I moved and relaxed again for 10 minutes.


Heading back, the saddle sores started pinching and I realised I was riding into a strong-ish headwind. No wonder the ride out was so easy!

I also learned a lesson. Take money when you go cycling. I passed 3 pubs and 2 ice-cream vans, on a lovely warm day, while I was exercising, and I have no water bottle on the bike! I was gasping for a drink!

Never mind. A couple of stops on the way back, including a relaxing sit-down on a bench at Walton Reach, just by the temporary bridge which has been there for 40-odd years.


It made me feel good and happy that my training is back on schedule.

Photos taken on my phone - hence the shoddy quality.

Sadness & Guilt

My Nan's in hospital. Very ill. My Dad rang earlier because the doctors don't think she will last more than two or three more days.

She's been there 3 or 4 or 5 weeks - originally just a 'bad back', but that turned into a kidney problem and then they had her in a cardiac monitoring unit.

That was at least 2 weeks ago (or was it 3 - shit, the time goes past too quickly) and now I feel guilty as fuck. I was supposed to visit her the other week and I didn't make the time to do it.

After that, I thought she'd come out and was getting better. I heard that my aunt and uncle were around and the plan was to take Nan down to their home in Gloucestershire.

But I obviously got that wrong. And I never asked how she was. And nobody told me she was still in Kingston Hospital, deteriorating.

Fuck.

I hate sickness and death and hospitals, but I know I should do my duty and I will go and visit her tomorrow after work and I can only hope that it's not too late.

I love you Nan.

No More Whingeing!

Jobs

Yesterday's post was a little bit moany, wasn't it?

Though, thanks to Delmonti-man, I've made £500 from selling our office's Xerox machine on eBay.

Anyway, I've already applied for a new job. Less than 10 miles from home. Actually, it's about 3 or 4 miles from home, so that will be nice - if I get it.

One of the main criteria in the job spec was that the applicant should be able to speak Korean.

Is that a clue to the employer?

The agency said it wasn't absolutely necessary - which is a relief.

Bikes

The Thames Bridges Bike Ride is now only just over a month away. Eek!

Considering the amount of money which has been pledged on my completing the event, I'd better make sure I'm in shape for it.

I had deliberately waited until BST kicked-in before starting to train properly (not wanting to get squished by a truck in the dark, or anything). So on Saturday I managed a grand total of SEVEN (count them!) miles. And I had to stop twice to allow my jelly-quivering calves to recover.

{Next time I'll leave the trailer full of baby cattle at home; it'll be far less effort.]

Bear in mind that this Thames Bridges ride is 34 miles. I need to go 5 times further than on Saturday, and without stopping every two-and-a-half miles!

Tonight I'm aiming for 10 miles without any stops.

And if Dave ("The Silver Fox") Estall is reading this - Stop laughing, you sod!

Update:

Hooray! I managed:

10.2 miles in 51 mins 20 secs.
Ave speed 11 m.p.h.
Top speed 25 m.p.h.
Calories burned 221 (apparently).

My new bike computer is great! If only it could pedal for me too...

Oh, and I only stopped once - after about 5 miles. If you don't count having to push the bike up Brooklands Hill (it's a steep one!).

Now, if I can just do something like that, 3 times a week, one or two miles further each time, for the next 5 weeks - I should be ready.

Sulking

Yes, I am sulking today.

We had one-to-one phone conferences with our line manager today to tell us the outcome of our pay reviews. The upshot was - I'm not getting a pay rise.

After four years working here, I've had one pay rise. Which means that next April, I'll have been here for 5 years and only had any sort of recognition (i.e. more money) once. That pay increase was just around the level of inflation (3.5%).

I applied for my job when it was based in Reading. Now, I'm based another 25 miles further away. Which is around £25 per week in extra petrol alone. All in all, I reckon I'm now over £200 per month worse off (in real terms) than when I started this job back in April 2002.

[That's £100 for travelling and about £100 as wages have not kept pace with inflation.]

The mixed signals from management don't help:

My first two years in this job I had excellent appraisals - but I didn't get a pay rise. Year 3 was really tough and I was getting pissed-off at the lack of recognition, so my performance dipped - and I got a pay rise!

What's the message here? The company that I work for values mediocrity over excellence - that's the only assumption I can make.

So this year, I've just coasted. If my colleagues are reading this, I can only apologise, but we all know it's true. I just don't care anymore. So was my mediocrity rewarded? Was it buggery! Another year without a pay rise. Result - I now care even less than I did yesterday.

I think I need a new job. With a company that gives a toss. And less than 10 miles from home.

Wish me luck...

Hold it! Flash, Bang, Wallop!

I was reading a photography magazine the other day and was struck by how much processing gets done to pictures after they've been taken. But the article gave some great tips on how to do the same things to your own photos.

So I decided to have a go with a few of my own pictures - and took the liberty of playing with a couple that I found on my Mum's Flickr Photostream.

I was amazed at how easy it was. Most magazines tell you how to achieve results using Adobe Photoshop. But that's far too expensive for my wallet and I've always found that there are plenty of ways of achieving more or less the same effects in JASC's Paint Shop Pro for much less money (although it now appears to have been taken over by Corel!).

Here are four examples of the sort of thing you can do. It's all very simple indeed. Click on the photos to see them larger.

Avignon Sky

Before:
After:


River Thames at Sunbury

Before:
After:


Fishing on the River Vistula

Before:
After:

Kathleen in the Snow

Before:

After:

There are a few more examples in my Treatments set on Flickr.

Finally. I am Man.

Today I finally became a full-grown, adult man.

No, not my bar-mitzvah.

Rather, I just achieved one of those milestones which separates the men from the boys. A rite of passage which means that I am now qualified to drink strong lager from the can, while standing around at a family barbecue with my shirt off, proudly displaying my beer belly.

Yea 'tis true. For today... (drum roll please)...

I took delivery of my first skip.

Thank you. Thank you.

Now I can stand in the pub, supping my ale, holding forth about cubic-yardages and regaling my fellow quaffers with the riveting tale of how I had to guide the skip-lorry driver down the narrow lane so that he didn't demolish any garden walls.

And once that is done we will finish our pints and go out hunting deer; driving them over cliffs with pointed sticks before howling at the moon and smearing the blood on our bodies...

Ah. It's good to be a bloke.

Get A Move On

Yes, I'm sorry. I've not been around much, have I? It's not my fault.

I had to do some work away from the office last week, starting on Tuesday. It was supposed to be 1.5 days (2 at the max) stuck in a soulless building in soulless Hounslow, restoring a database onto a UNIX server.

It turned into 4 days (and several evenings, it felt like) of unmitigated hell.

But I'm not saying any more. I'm putting that subject behind me. Like toilet paper.

I've also been busy getting ready for the first rehearsal of the play I'm directing. Which was tonight. Yes, it went well, thanks for asking. Only another 10 weeks of rehearsals and we can put the show on for the delectation of the paying public. That'll be another week that I don't get any postings done!

So the occasion of my 2,000th visitor passes with nary a word, let alone a celebratory glass of Pomagne. Ne'er mind, eh? Maybe on the 3,000th.

Normal service will be resumed next time something pisses me off...

Oh, MaryB asked for the Worst Movie Remakes ever:

Perm any 1 from these 3:

• The Ring (awful US remake of creepy Japanese original).
• The Vanishing (awful US remake of scary Dutch original).
• The Postman Always Rings Twice (awful US remake of excellent US original).

TTFN.

You Know You're Spending Too Much Time On Your PC...

...When you only hear about a scandalous story from the family's past when you read about it (tantalisingly) on your own Mum's blog.

Ramble On

On a recent visit to Chertsey Musem I picked up a couple of leaflets entitled Runymede Rambles, published by Runymede Council. More recent research indicates that you can download the leaflets (though the quality is not as good as the original printed material).

So, this past Sunday, The Wife and I decided to do walk no. four. An easy 4 mile stroll around Ottershaw, Brox and Rowtown.

We started off in The Castle. Probably the best pub in the area (though I should keep that quiet, otherwise it'll get crowded and then we won't like it so much anymore!). Leaving the car in the car park at around 10.45am we planned to work up an appetite with our walk and return here for lunch before heading back home.

Pausing only to take pictures to document our adventure, we crossed the road and headed off down Brox Lane.

There are plenty of nice houses in the area - and some nicely extravagant price tags to go with them, no doubt. One day, one day, I'll be able to afford to live around here.

We headed down Brox Lane, past the thatched cottage and the private fishing lake where several men were cutting down trees and painting fishing jetties (or are they called 'landings'?).

The lane winds about before cresting a hill and looking out over acres of farmland. But even up here there were houses dotted about. It's a long old walk to the nearest bus-stop and the buses in our neck of the woods aren't too reliable, so you won't get about very easily from here if you don't have a car.

Trudging down the hill, past a mobile home park and some old farm buildings, brings us to Rowtown.

This is another leafy area and pretty area of the borough and we walked past the Bourne Valley garden centre, up the hill towards The Cricketers pub.

This is a pub that used to be quaint and snug many years ago, but last time I frequented it the place had been modernised and was full of families.

[Here's a hint for landlords, breweries and patrons alike: Pubs are for adults. Adults who like to drink and joke and swear and get away from kids. When you have children you have to make sacrifices and one of those sacrifices is having to avoid going into pubs with your brood! And anyway, what happened to the law which forbids children under 14 entering licensed premises - I don't remember it being revoked...] Rant over!

The footpath behind the pub took us across to Hare Hill Open Space (an awful name for a lovely patch of woodland and meadow), then across busy Murray Road and across some fields of horses and over another hill with a tiny copse of trees atop it.

From here the view is down across St. Peter's Way (leading to the M25) and over the office buildings (including EA's European HQ) to St. Peter's Hospital. Although, as you walk along the footpath the occupants certainly try to freak you out by staring at you in a most threatening manner...

A mad dash across the road (the local authority don't seem to have provided for pedestrians here - it's a terribly American state of affairs) takes us into Homewood Park. This is an area which used to be called Botley's Park, after the large palladian manor house whose grounds it once was. Then, before the war, St. Peter's Hospital was situated here. Now parts of the area have been re-landscaped and prestigious offices (including the one mentioned above) are set in a verdant parkland with streams, ponds and huge fir trees. It's all slightly artificial, but very nice nevertheless.

Skirting around the manor house brings us to Stonehill Road - the main road from Chobham to Chertsey if you don't want to negotiate traffic lights and roundabouts. This is what I see in my mind when I think of Surrey woodland. Although it's probably as artificial and managed as Homewood Park when you consider that most of the trees simply hide a prestigious golf and country club from the sight of those of us unable to afford membership!

A left-turn up Foxhills Road brings us to Ottershaw Memorial Fields - the start/end point of the walk if you're following the leaflet properly. Which we weren't.

We walked across the playing fields - being careful not to get involved in a game of football inadvertently - and entered the mature woods at the top of Ether Hill.

Down the other side of the hill, through some thick mature woodland and across Chobham Road. To our right was Ottershaw Chase; another ancient thicket of trees. Past more large houses (one named the Gatehouse was very charming indeed) and we plough on uphill, emerging at Christ Church on the top of Timber Hill.

Now we're on the home stretch. We crossed the road to the car-park and entered the woodlands down the hill, picking up the footpath back to Brox Road and our destination: The Castle.

With a warm welcome from John, the landlord, a pint of London Pride and some great food, it brought an enjoyable couple of hours walking to a hearty conclusion.

Bits 'n' Pieces

Too Quiet

Sorry I haven't been around much. We've been rehearsing a show; but it's not one that I'm allowed to mention in public because it's so rude that we can't have all-and-sundry turning up to be offended. So - sorry - unless I know that you've got a filthy mind I can't sell you a ticket.

My Mummy

She's not been well, bless her. But she's better now. She must be or she wouldn't be complaining that I never took her chicken soup. But now she's preparing for her stage debut at the weekend. This from a woman who said she'd never set foot on the stage, no way, not in a million years. Good luck!

Pointless Game

Here it is - the most pointless game on the Internet.
Found at Money Saving Expert.


EDIT: Oh, OK then. Here's an example of one of the songs we'll be singing this weekend. Please look away now if you're easily offended. Blame Mary and Allen otherwise! The words are ours; the tune will be recognisable if you've ever seen The Pirates of Penzance:

When a felon's not engaged in fornication,
Or fiddling with a fellow felon's bum,
He can while away the hours with masturbation,
But a policeman's knob is not a happy one.
We are hedged about with tiresome regulation
And uniform too thick to cop a grope;
Inside of which I'm stiff with agitation.
A policeman's knob is throbbing without hope.

Chorus:
Whilst pornographic folk are having fun, having fun
A policeman's knob is not a happy one (happy one).

When the enterprising burglar's not a-bonking,
When the cutthroat isn't occupied with clap,
He loves to be the centre of a threesome,
And thinks himself a lucky little chap.
When the coster's finished jumping on his sisters,
He likes to tan his scrotum in the sun.
And so my sad refrain it kinda lingers;
A policeman's knob is not a happy one.

Lyrics by Graham Botterill, Music by Gilbert (or is it Sullivan - I can never remember!)

Writers and Bands

I think that more authors should start rock bands.

Of course, they don't listen to anything I say, but if they did they might want to come to me so I can tell them what names to use:

• Nick Hornby and the Range.
• Stephen King Crimson.
• King Kurt Vonnegut.
• The Hunter S. Thompson Twins.
• The J.K. Rowling Stones.
• Grahame Greene Day.
• Virginia Howlin' Woolf.
• Thomas Mann's Earth Band.

I'm sure you can do better than that...

Musings

Muslim Violence

I know that the worldwide events aren't representative of all Muslims. But, I really don't understand how anyone can whip up a crowd to burn buildings and murder people simply on the basis of a supposedly 'offensive' cartoon or two. It seems to me, more and more, like someone is stirring up trouble deliberately.

Music Views

Thanks to Jonathon for popping by yesterday. I checked-out his music review blog, Bloody Awful Poetry, today and I commend it to you as a fine example of music writing.

My Velocipede

My quest for sponsorship has gone mad! I've raised well over £500 in just five days. At this rate, by the time I do the ride (14th May) I'll have raised over £8,000. :-)

We Have a Winner!

Woo! And, indeed, Yay!

I won a competition.

As a member of the Pete Collective (see the banner in the top-left corner of this page) I entered a competition to win a 'Pete On Board' mug. And I won!

The last time I won anything was a box of 60 tea-bags at a girl guides' raffle. I was trying to win a girl guide...

For supreme divvy picture evidence of this fantastic prize (the mug, not the tea-bags) you can look over here at Flickr.

That Friday Feeling

The fine organisation for which I work has no lack of people who can be guaranteed to ask daft questions on a regular basis. And why do unexpected requests for complicated documentation always come in late on a Friday afternoon - attached to a note mentioning that the customer needs an answer by the end of the week?

Add to this the fact that the local pub, round the corner from our office, has a new, guest beer on-tap. It's called 'Swing Low'. And it's lethal! Only 2 pints at lunchtime, and I've been useless since.

Which all means that my brain has been completely drained of all thoughts and I had no idea what I was going to write. So instead you have to put up with reading an inane ramble.

"What's new?" I hear you cry.

Bastards!

One delightful thing to report. You will have seen my begging letter for sponsorship on Wednesday. Well, my target of £100 was blown away in a matter of hours. The total raised (in less than 2 days) is nigh on £400, which is quite remarkable. People are so generous, it takes my breath away.

So I've raised my target to £500.

The only worry I have now is when I attempt the London to Brighton Bike Ride in June. I have a feeling that my acquaintances will be all sponsored-out and I'll have to resort to panhandling to raise the necessaries. I'm not sure what sort of deviant sexual practice panhandling actually is, but it don't sound pleasant!

On Yer Bike!

OK, well, I'm definitely not right in the head.

A couple of posts ago, I mentioned that I was thinking of signing up for a couple of charity bike rides.

Well, the confirmation of the first one has come through.

I'm going to be doing the Thames Bridges Bike Ride, on behalf of the Stroke Association, on 14th May this year. 32 miles. Argh! I need to get training.

Mr Estall is to blame!

Anyway - obviously I'm not doing this for the benefit of my health. Well, I am, but I'm also doing it for charity. So please cycle over to my JustGiving page and donate away. Please. Any donation - however big or small - gratefully received.

Thank you.

Some Funny Things About Poland

The Polish word for "lamps" is "lampy". This I find incredibly amusing, for some reason. I spent most of our holiday singing songs to myself, in praise of a cartoon character called "Lampy".

A. Blikle is a famous coffee-house. It's on Nowy Swiat ("New Street") in Warsaw. Their coffee is fabulous, their hot-chocolate with khalua is fantastic and their cakes are divine. However, the dessert which I just had to order was the New Orleans Jazz Banana. Yes, you read that right. Jazz Banana. It's not every day that you discover a brand-new euphemism for the penis, so I've been making as much use of it (the euphemism) as possible for the past 2 or 3 days. This one will never wear out (oh, stop it!).

The Polish language has too many letters. English has, what, 26 letters. Which is not enough for all the sounds we need, so learning English is very confusing. The Poles cottoned on to this many years ago and invented 47 (approximately) new letters to represent each sound in their language. So, why the hell does each letter still represent a completely different sound depending on its context? There's a letter that looks like an 'e' with a little tail on the bottom (there's probably a way of showing you - but I can't be arsed to figure it out). In the middle of a word it makes an 'en' sound. But if it's followed by a 'p' or a 'b', it makes an 'em' sound. And if it's at the end of a word it makes an 'eh' sound! What's the deal with that? And don't get me started with the 'L's that have crosses through them. At first, I thought it was an issue with dyslexic signwriters...

In private, Polish people speak Chinese.

Yes. It was a little chilly.

Warsaw

So we got back (late - thanks BA) from Warsaw. It's a lovely little city. You can wander around the main sites in the center of town in a day, easily.

But with the average temperature at -10C while we were there (day and night) it was dead cold. But very pretty in the snow.

The mix of olde worlde middle-European architecture, with the occasional stern pieces of social realist buildings and sculpture from the Cold War period makes Warsaw a fascinating place to visit.

It also helps that even the most exclusive restaurants are affordable if you're used to the prices we pay over here!

All in all - a fantastic few days. You can see some pictures of our adventures here.

This IS a Blog you know

Yes, it is - so here's a real, live link to a web-page!

A good friend of mine has started a family-oriented site. Their idea, it seems, is to try and build a massive web-scrapbook of faces. The ultimate aim is to get 1 Million peoples' faces on board. Mosey on over to www.1-million-faces.com to get an early look at a site that's sure to be a big hit in the future...

"And Yes, Brrrr, It Is Quite Chilly For The Time Of Year"

Sorry it's been quiet of late. Been rather busy.

And it'll be quiet for a few more days yet - The Wife and I are of to Warsaw (in Poland, not the West Midlands) for a few days of freezing our extremeties and snowball fights (Hmmm... I love advocaat).

It's pretty damn chilly over there (-16C? Shit!). So I hope they sell vodka!

In other news:

In a moment of madness I agreed to Mr Estall's suggestion of taking part in some charity bike rides. The first one is in May, so I'll probably start training in, oh, May probably.

You can follow Mr Estall's Cyclopathic blog here, 'cos I won't be doing a training log or anything like that, unless something interesting happens. Like falling off and getting maimed by a big lorry.

See you next week!

Me Bad Boy

Yes, I was very bad today.

The past few weeks I've been going down to the local Top Golf driving range. My pa, ma and sister introduced me to it.

I've played a few rounds of golf with friends before, but as I've never had a lesson I tend to lose a dozen balls before I get to the 4th tee. Golf therefore becomes just a long walk carrying a heavy bag of ironmongery.

But this Top Golf thing really makes practising your swing much more interesting. A couple of quid for 20 balls and when you hit one of the large (20 yards across) targets on the range you get points depending upon how accurate you are.

After a few weeks I was going down there on my own and playing 4 or 5 games (~100 balls) and getting more accurate all the time.

So (finally getting to the point) today I went and bought a set of clubs for myself. Yes, I know. I've got no money!

OK - they only cost £99.99. They're probably not the world's best clubs - but they're 100 times better than the old tin ones I had from Argos about 10 years ago. And when I managed to hit 8 or 10 balls around 250 yards, with the big driver, and pretty straight too, I thought that it wasn't a bad investment.

[Damn! I used to take the piss out of my boss for being a big golf fanatic. Arse!]

But - I really don't have money so I'm doing the sensible thing and selling a bunch of stuff I don't need anymore.

First, my archery gear. If my old scorebook is anything to go by I haven't shot for 5 years. I do still love the sport, but the acting and directing takes up all my time so all those times I keep saying "I really must rejoin Woking Archery Club and get shooring again" is just wishful thinking.

So down to Quicks with all my gear. My old mates Peter and Brenda work there on Saturdays. Peter runs the thriving second-hand business for my old club, so I'm sure that he'll be able to sell on my kit to someone who will make more use of it than I have.

Secondly, I've had a bunch of scuba diving gear which was used extensively on my first honeymoon, five and a half years ago, and only once more since then, about 3 years ago. So that's come out of the garage and will be out on eBay, just as soon as I'm sure it's not all been nibbled by mice.

Really, there's no reason to have warm-weather dive gear in this country. Dry-suits are what you need. And it costs a bomb to take your own gear abroad. So I'll just keep my PADI certificate and mask and fins and borrow everything else from the dive shop next time I go.

Wordyrappinghood.

Inspired by the BBC's new Balderdash and Piffle show, I thought I'd share some new word meanings which have yet to find their way into the OED.

Irony: (adj.) The warm feeling of a nice, crisp, freshly ironed item of clothing. "Hmmm... I was freezing, but this shirt's nice and irony."

Shanty: (n.) A song which is only sung after drinking enough beer and lemonade.

Cahoot: (adj.) The call of an owl with hiccups.

Replica: (n. rare) One who slobbers on a travelling salesman, or "Rep". By extension, a prostitute or escort.

Gravitas: (adj.) The state of a person's bottom when they haven't been to the gym for several months.

Pander: (v.) To receive money from someone who wants to have sex with your large black and white Chinese bear.

Tacky: (adj.) Similar to a nail or pin.

Welfare: (n.) The price of a bus ticket to the well.

Refugee: (n.) One who hides in the dressing-room after a match because they turned down a perfectly good appeal for a penalty.

Bustard: (n.) A small bird with no father.

Help Wanted -- Enquire Without

If you're a regular reader here (or if you've just stumbled onto this post by mistake) please can you do me one HUGE favour.

Nip over to my other blog (that's right, just here) and take a look at the poster designs. Then use the comment system there (not here) to let me know which poster you prefer - the one which makes the most impact.

Market research such as this could add an extra 5%-10% onto our audience figures come June!

Thanks for voting!

Tesco Writes Back

Tesco have replied to the email I sent them in complaint about the events which I outlined yesterday.

Here's what they say:

I was concerned to learn that you and your wife were approached by our Security Guard due to your wife having her hood up. Please accept our apologies for any upset and annoyance caused.

I have spoken with staff at store who have informed me that this rule was brought in some time ago, due to problems the store encountered with the young community whom most of them were 'hoodies'.

As it is a problem trying to detect these unworthy customers due to the hoods, the store put this rule in order. Although it is not a policy and is not displayed in our store, they do have the right to refuse entry to anyone they feel are not genuine customer. However, we expect our staff to use their initiative as the decision is down to the Security Department.

Please be assured that your comments will be passed to our Store Manager who will be asked to discuss this matter further with his Security Department.

I suppose that we've got to be happy with that. They've apologised and they've explained themselves and they've promised to talk to their security staff. And they replied promptly, which left me a little non-plussed.

That said, I'm amazed that they can't tell the difference between a crowd of hoodie-clad, chav troublemakers, and married couple in their 30s (or a five-year old, as evidenced by Delmonti's comment).