Bad luck comes in threes.
Bad Luck Part 1:
Sunday and I am cycling home from Glenfield. At some point there is a high speed collision between my face and a wasps ass. The wasp gets stuck UNDER the strap of my cycle helmet and decided to sting me to let me know this. It hurt. As I am on the verge of tears, a very lost looking Somalian man decided to ask me which way the 'Downtown' area was. I explain through gritted teeth with wasp stung cheeks (this is not a good look like bee stung lips believe me) that he is about 3 miles away and it would be a 40 minute walk. He starts the walk, and I ride home cursing the wasp.
Bad luck part 2:
MOnday, and I cycle to Anstey then walked to Cropston with my family for a few jars and half price steak at the Bradgate Arms. I do not realise that we are taking the cross country route, and my flip flops do not really cut the mustard when walking over fields etc. On the way back I notice I have some bizarre toe pain thing, and my foot knackers the rest of the way. My steak is nice though, if you're after the silver lining.
Bad Luck Part 3.
It's Tuesday and I wake up with extreme toe pain. I cycle to work (cycling, thankfully involves no impact therefore provides releif from toe pain). My Blackberry and Patti Smith work together to make sure that 'Dancing Barefoot' is the first song that is shuffled at me as I ride. It's not even the Alison Moorer version which is an example of a cover superior*. The pain is so bad that when I get to work I cycle to my first meeting (in another office block at the large building where I work - 0.21 miles away accoring to my cyclometer). There's no way I can walk there. At lunchtime I go and see a Foot Specialist in Anstey (by bike of course). I am in such a bad mood now that I don't play music. The jury is still out as to whether the toe is sorted after this visit, as by now I have taken so many painkillers that I would dance barefoot if somebody asked me. At 5:30 I remember that Mr Sainsburys is deliverying our groceries between 6 and 7 so I leggit home. On my return I take a call from a very jolly sounding lady called Trish who tells me that Mr Sainsburys has broken down, and will not make it to us until 9pm.
Dinner is reduced drastically from the planned Seafood Gumbo, to frozen cod, chips and peas. The peas are currently residing on my toe to try and reduce the swelling.
*Cover superior - when a cover version of a song outshines the original. Doesn't happen very often but examples include Jeff Buckley's cover of Leonard Cohen's 'Hallelujiah' and (arguably) Eva Cassidy's cover of Fleetwood Mac's 'Songbird'. Incidentally, many people think that these versions are the originals, and don't realise they are covers.
Showing posts with label cycling. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cycling. Show all posts
Tuesday, 2 August 2011
Wednesday, 13 April 2011
You could be my Silver Springs
Cycling down Nevanthon Road to Minehead Street, a part of my journey from work (and my journey through life, 'cos it's where I used to live, to where I live now) was today my 'Silver Springs' (the town in Maryland after which this rather gorgeous Fleetwood Mac song was named.
Just when the opening keyboard notes come on, I relax even more - it's that kind of song. And yet bizarrely, Silver Springs is one of the most intense songs I've ever heard. It's essentially about a woman (let's call her Stevie Nicks) screaming at a man (Lindsey Buckingham might be a good name for him) about how she's going to follow him and the sound of her voice will haunt him, and he'll never get away from her. But somehow, combine this song with a downhill bike ride after a day full of meetings and you've got an MP3 version of yoga.
Writing about Stevie Nicks today is a bit jumping on the bandwagon, because it seems that in the US she was on Oprah with Joan Jett and Pat Benatar. Stevie even 'trended' on twitter this evening which is rather fabulous, but I've liked Stevie far longer than Oprah viewers and tweeters. One thing I like about Stevie is that she doesn't drive, which in America is a bit like not knowing the national anthem. She hasn't driven since 1978 simply because she never went anywhere alone which, when you stop and think about it is a fairly mind blowing idea.
As I am sailing home on my Merida Glide, Silver Springing my way along - the concept of never being alone doesn't compute, sometimes when you are cycling it's the being alone that makes it so chilled out.
And so maybe I am not only recommending cycling to the masses I'm recommmending it to Stevie Nicks, because if she's lived without a car all this time she ought to get herself on a bike - if only so she can be on her own for a bit. I did try and google Stevie Nicks and bikes (you never do know) but it's seems that to Ms Nicks, a bike is a Harley Davidson (Stevie in Radio Interview:"I mean what is more fun, really than being on the back of a Harley Davidson, driving down the freeway to a Bob Dylan concert?").
I really can't imagine, but she's kind of pissed on my 'cycling is great' thing from a great height.
Just when the opening keyboard notes come on, I relax even more - it's that kind of song. And yet bizarrely, Silver Springs is one of the most intense songs I've ever heard. It's essentially about a woman (let's call her Stevie Nicks) screaming at a man (Lindsey Buckingham might be a good name for him) about how she's going to follow him and the sound of her voice will haunt him, and he'll never get away from her. But somehow, combine this song with a downhill bike ride after a day full of meetings and you've got an MP3 version of yoga.
Writing about Stevie Nicks today is a bit jumping on the bandwagon, because it seems that in the US she was on Oprah with Joan Jett and Pat Benatar. Stevie even 'trended' on twitter this evening which is rather fabulous, but I've liked Stevie far longer than Oprah viewers and tweeters. One thing I like about Stevie is that she doesn't drive, which in America is a bit like not knowing the national anthem. She hasn't driven since 1978 simply because she never went anywhere alone which, when you stop and think about it is a fairly mind blowing idea.
As I am sailing home on my Merida Glide, Silver Springing my way along - the concept of never being alone doesn't compute, sometimes when you are cycling it's the being alone that makes it so chilled out.
And so maybe I am not only recommending cycling to the masses I'm recommmending it to Stevie Nicks, because if she's lived without a car all this time she ought to get herself on a bike - if only so she can be on her own for a bit. I did try and google Stevie Nicks and bikes (you never do know) but it's seems that to Ms Nicks, a bike is a Harley Davidson (Stevie in Radio Interview:"I mean what is more fun, really than being on the back of a Harley Davidson, driving down the freeway to a Bob Dylan concert?").
I really can't imagine, but she's kind of pissed on my 'cycling is great' thing from a great height.
Friday, 11 March 2011
He's on the phone
Two nights ago I had propped up my bike against our house, while I nipped through the house to unlock the front gate and bring my bike in. I've done that every time I've cycled anywhere, since the summer of 2007 - so thousands of times - and never given it a second thought.
This time though my girlfriend M heard a bit of noise outside, popped her head out of the door and caught a hoodie (complete with face scarf no less) and his mate wheeling my bike away. Cheers.
M saved the day with a 'Scuse me!' and the hoodie made the walk of shame back to our house and handed over the bike. Thank god as he was virtually unrecognisable with his hood/scarf combo - wouldn't have been able to pick him out in a line up. Girlfriend 1 - Hoodies 0.
Anyway the point of this is that I enjoy cycling so much that that won't put me off. I cycle loads, and in the last year I have pretty much been a year round cyclist over the last 365 days - and by that I mean at least one bike ride a week even in sub zero temperatures. I have my tunes playing loud (headphones are a bit dangerous, right?) and I'll always find that there's a song that stands out from my journey.
Today it was St Etienne and 'He's on the Phone'. St Etienne are one of those bands who may seem a bit talentless, and directionless - one minute they're doing Euro pop, the next minute Cod Reggae. But they came to Summer Sundae (http://www.summersundae.com/) a couple of years back, sandwiched between Bombay Bicycle Club and the Charlatans if I remember right and I have to say - they were wicked.
Sailing along on my bike, the sun was out - and yes - I was freezing my tits off, but with 'He's on the phone' blasting out I could almost believe it was summer again. And somehow I don't reckon my hooded bike thief will need quite so many layers on...
This time though my girlfriend M heard a bit of noise outside, popped her head out of the door and caught a hoodie (complete with face scarf no less) and his mate wheeling my bike away. Cheers.
M saved the day with a 'Scuse me!' and the hoodie made the walk of shame back to our house and handed over the bike. Thank god as he was virtually unrecognisable with his hood/scarf combo - wouldn't have been able to pick him out in a line up. Girlfriend 1 - Hoodies 0.
Anyway the point of this is that I enjoy cycling so much that that won't put me off. I cycle loads, and in the last year I have pretty much been a year round cyclist over the last 365 days - and by that I mean at least one bike ride a week even in sub zero temperatures. I have my tunes playing loud (headphones are a bit dangerous, right?) and I'll always find that there's a song that stands out from my journey.
Today it was St Etienne and 'He's on the Phone'. St Etienne are one of those bands who may seem a bit talentless, and directionless - one minute they're doing Euro pop, the next minute Cod Reggae. But they came to Summer Sundae (http://www.summersundae.com/) a couple of years back, sandwiched between Bombay Bicycle Club and the Charlatans if I remember right and I have to say - they were wicked.
Sailing along on my bike, the sun was out - and yes - I was freezing my tits off, but with 'He's on the phone' blasting out I could almost believe it was summer again. And somehow I don't reckon my hooded bike thief will need quite so many layers on...
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