There was no sunshine at all today. Good news for vampires, Edward from Twilight would be able to wander around merrily without worrying about people noticing the bizarre diamondy stuff on his face. (Fact fans will find a whole discussion about this on Yahoo answers).
On the plus side, there was no rain either - however I cycled to work in a pea soup like fog that I could actually feel dripping on my head now and again. Still, not rain as we know it. So, the fact that Zoe's Sunshine on a Rainy Day came on really had no consequence weatherwise.
So why am I talking about the weather? Because today, is officially the start of the winter cycling season. This is based on two indicators, neither of which are verified by the Met Office:
1) The muffs are on. Yes, my '360'* Cincinatti Bengals ear muffs are on my head whilst cycling and are probably staying there for a while....
2) Speaking of ears, I have red wine coming out of mine. Red wine is to be drunk in winter, and I am in red wine squirreling mode.
Don't get me wrong, this is not something I'm moaning about. This is only my second winter of cycling, and I have a few tried and tested winter cycling 'secrets' now that I'll share shortly. My winter cycling tips have occured as a result of a scene resembling the Steel Magnolias Julia Roberts/ Orange Juice/ hairdresser incident. I came home, just about fainting, close to tears and had to be force fed orange juice Julia Roberts style by my other half, all because it was sooooooo cold.
So now I:
1) Wear gloves that were recommended on a Canadian ice cycling site.*
2) Keeps the muffs on. My muffs were from a nice lady in America from Ebay, but you can get them from Amazon.
3) Keep moving. Clearly you stop if you reach a junction or if an object twice your size appears in your path, but otherwise don't dawdle. Hills are your friends when it's cold, they keep the blood going.
4) Get whoever's waiting for you at home to have a nice cup of tea waiting. If no one's waiting fo you at home, just keep a glass of red wine by the door, so you can neck it when you fall into the house. One of the perks of living alone would be that this is deemed perfectly acceptable to the other non-existent members of your houshold.
Now you're warmed up, it's back to Zoe. Having just watched that youtube vid I can't believe how dated it looks. I have just rediscovered the song thanks to The Orb present impossible oddities 3 CD epic album. My favourite fact about this 1990 (dear god, I was 13!) song is that it was used on the advert for the Amiga 500.
*Clearly I mean '180s'. '360s' would be a headband.
**Wow what a great TV programme this would make. Ice Road Cyclists. I'm in.
Monday, 21 November 2011
Tuesday, 2 August 2011
Dancing Barefoot
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.
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.
Saturday, 23 July 2011
After hours
I have been working late quite a lot lately. This means that in order to get home in time to cook tea, I need to whiz by a particular supermarket on a particular council estate on my way home (it's best not to name either the supermarket OR the council estate for fear of retribution). I have to do all this in record time. I cannot pass go. I cannot dawdle. I must know what I want and remove it swiftly form the shelves and into my basket and pay the nice lady on the till.
This particular evening (not overuse of word 'particular') I am cycling home on the work's Brompton (yes we have an office bike - all the jokes have been done, beleive me). The Brompton stands out somewhat in this neighborhood. Imagine a hog roast at a Bar Mitzvah and you have some idea. I leave the supermarket and head to the Brompton.
"Is that one of them folding bikes?" a man asks, both him and his Staffordshire Bull Terrier trying to make eye contact. "Yes it is," I reply, eyes firmly engaged on Kryptonite bike lock.
"Are you trying to get fit?" He asks.
"Something like that." I reply, with a lighten the mood girly laugh.
"Why - has someone told you that you're fat?".
I have one leg over the office bike. "No." (again a lighten the mood smile).
Staffie owner suddenly looks mad. "Have they?" he growls. "Has someone told you you are fat?". He looks very angry. He looks like he wants to defend me against the person that's called me fat, except no-one's called me fat and he doesn't even know me anyway.
I reassure this complete stranger nutjob that no-one has told me I'm fat, and scoot away on the Brompton. "Becuase you're not, you know!!" he shouts after me. I am relieved, not by nutjob's 'not fat' claim, but by the fact the Brompton and I have escaped. I ride home out of the council estate, through middle class suburbia,and out of the other side blending in as best someone who now feels slightly chubby and is on a very small bike can.
On the way I listen to 'After hours' by We are Scientists. It is 'After hours' and I'm late home again, but at least I've got a funny story to tell when I get there...
This particular evening (not overuse of word 'particular') I am cycling home on the work's Brompton (yes we have an office bike - all the jokes have been done, beleive me). The Brompton stands out somewhat in this neighborhood. Imagine a hog roast at a Bar Mitzvah and you have some idea. I leave the supermarket and head to the Brompton.
"Is that one of them folding bikes?" a man asks, both him and his Staffordshire Bull Terrier trying to make eye contact. "Yes it is," I reply, eyes firmly engaged on Kryptonite bike lock.
"Are you trying to get fit?" He asks.
"Something like that." I reply, with a lighten the mood girly laugh.
"Why - has someone told you that you're fat?".
I have one leg over the office bike. "No." (again a lighten the mood smile).
Staffie owner suddenly looks mad. "Have they?" he growls. "Has someone told you you are fat?". He looks very angry. He looks like he wants to defend me against the person that's called me fat, except no-one's called me fat and he doesn't even know me anyway.
I reassure this complete stranger nutjob that no-one has told me I'm fat, and scoot away on the Brompton. "Becuase you're not, you know!!" he shouts after me. I am relieved, not by nutjob's 'not fat' claim, but by the fact the Brompton and I have escaped. I ride home out of the council estate, through middle class suburbia,and out of the other side blending in as best someone who now feels slightly chubby and is on a very small bike can.
On the way I listen to 'After hours' by We are Scientists. It is 'After hours' and I'm late home again, but at least I've got a funny story to tell when I get there...
Thursday, 9 June 2011
Be my Yoko Ono
Oh the Barenaked Ladies, what a fabulously humourous and talented bunch of Canadians they are, and how much am I looking forward to seeing them at Hard Rock Calling in a couple of weeks...
This is another one that gets me bike dancing, head bobbing, shoulders going as I zoom home on my new Schwalbe Marathon tyres courtesy of the Bike Park in Leicester!
If you haven't heard this song before - check out the video and while you'll there check out this random song, which was supposed to be 'Yoko' until the YouTube poilce hunted them down - captions are rather funny...
(By the way, this song is worth a listen for the mad yodelling part alone).
Back to cycling, and as I arrived home this evening I saw two lads in shirts and ties chaining their bikes together on the corner. Hold on, young, smartly dressed men on bikes....this can only mean...MORMONS! The Yoko song has a line that's: 'To have you hanging off my ankle like some kind of ball and chain' and frankly it reminds me of these lads. I have lost count of the times these two have chained their little* bikes up at the end of the road and gone a knockin' on people's doors. I wonder, do they knock on the same doors every week? Do people give them shit? How does it feel to have a door slammed in your face? Do they feel like Yoko Ono did?
Still, this is Leicester, a city of religious tolerance of course. And by my own defintion of religious tolerance I mean an inward roll of the eyes detectable only to those who know me closey, and not answering the door to mormons etc, cos it's better to ignore than offend. And by etc I also mean those dirty looking gentlemen selling unecessary plastic items too...
*for 'little' read normal sized mountain bikes actually.
Follow @leicesterlizzie
This is another one that gets me bike dancing, head bobbing, shoulders going as I zoom home on my new Schwalbe Marathon tyres courtesy of the Bike Park in Leicester!
If you haven't heard this song before - check out the video and while you'll there check out this random song, which was supposed to be 'Yoko' until the YouTube poilce hunted them down - captions are rather funny...
(By the way, this song is worth a listen for the mad yodelling part alone).
Back to cycling, and as I arrived home this evening I saw two lads in shirts and ties chaining their bikes together on the corner. Hold on, young, smartly dressed men on bikes....this can only mean...MORMONS! The Yoko song has a line that's: 'To have you hanging off my ankle like some kind of ball and chain' and frankly it reminds me of these lads. I have lost count of the times these two have chained their little* bikes up at the end of the road and gone a knockin' on people's doors. I wonder, do they knock on the same doors every week? Do people give them shit? How does it feel to have a door slammed in your face? Do they feel like Yoko Ono did?
Still, this is Leicester, a city of religious tolerance of course. And by my own defintion of religious tolerance I mean an inward roll of the eyes detectable only to those who know me closey, and not answering the door to mormons etc, cos it's better to ignore than offend. And by etc I also mean those dirty looking gentlemen selling unecessary plastic items too...
*for 'little' read normal sized mountain bikes actually.
Follow @leicesterlizzie
Monday, 6 June 2011
Super Furry Cyclists
It's almost like when 'Baby ate my Eightball' came on then all these people doing crazy things on bikes come out the woodwork.
First up on my way home I see a group of four lads cycling and sharing a joint, passing it from person to person like they are just sat in someone's living room rather than cycling along at 6 O'clock kids and families all about, then I see an old guy, suited up like he's just finished work at Legal and General, cycling along no handed, with his hands folded behind his back pretty much the length of Forest Way. When I get home my (insert name of female relative here) calls and tells me that she's just seen a couple of lads on bikes nick some massive statues out of the neighbours garden and ride off with them. Mad.
Anyway, this last weekend Leicester played host to the Building Cycling Cultures conference. I didn't go, due to various obligations to partner's various obligations to other festivals going on in Leics at the time, but by all accounts it was a good show, attracting folk from all over, including cycling bods from New York.
Anyway, over the weekend (I am told) one of the points of discussion was an article in the Guardian helpfully entitled: On your bike? Not likely...cycling is for children, study finds. (For some reason the online version has a different title, like the Guardian know that online stuff is around for a lot longer so they need to tread more carefully).
The jist of the article (if you can't be bothered to follow the link) is that the majority of the population view bikes as 'children's toys or for lycra clad hobbyists' (these by the way are the Guardian's words, not the study's. There are a few things I find annoying about the way this story is covered in the Guardian:
1. The negative way in which the story is presented - most people won't get past the headline or the first para, so just read the bad bits.
2. The Guardian are normally the biggest cycling advocates - they promote cycling as a means of transport, whereas other papers never mention cycling, or in the Times' case it's a nice thing to do for a Sunday afternoon jolly. I know they have to give a balanced view, but lets face it, they don't normally.
3. The final line is a plug for the Guardian's new book 'Cyclebabble'. They now that only cyclists will be interested beyond paragraph three, becuase by then non-cyclists will be laughing at the lycra clad bit and sniggering. So they get their book in!!!!!! The bloody cheek of it.
I do sincerely hope they are wrong. Studies aside, when I am out and about in Leicester I see the difference - it's visible, there are tons of cyclists on the roads and paths and they are not all wearing lycra. At the weekend we were out and about in Bradgate Park area - we saw people cycling to the pub in Cropston, to the Open Gardens event and to Stonehurst Family Farm in Mountsorrel.
People are cycling in Leicester, and they are loving it!
First up on my way home I see a group of four lads cycling and sharing a joint, passing it from person to person like they are just sat in someone's living room rather than cycling along at 6 O'clock kids and families all about, then I see an old guy, suited up like he's just finished work at Legal and General, cycling along no handed, with his hands folded behind his back pretty much the length of Forest Way. When I get home my (insert name of female relative here) calls and tells me that she's just seen a couple of lads on bikes nick some massive statues out of the neighbours garden and ride off with them. Mad.
Anyway, this last weekend Leicester played host to the Building Cycling Cultures conference. I didn't go, due to various obligations to partner's various obligations to other festivals going on in Leics at the time, but by all accounts it was a good show, attracting folk from all over, including cycling bods from New York.
Anyway, over the weekend (I am told) one of the points of discussion was an article in the Guardian helpfully entitled: On your bike? Not likely...cycling is for children, study finds. (For some reason the online version has a different title, like the Guardian know that online stuff is around for a lot longer so they need to tread more carefully).
The jist of the article (if you can't be bothered to follow the link) is that the majority of the population view bikes as 'children's toys or for lycra clad hobbyists' (these by the way are the Guardian's words, not the study's. There are a few things I find annoying about the way this story is covered in the Guardian:
1. The negative way in which the story is presented - most people won't get past the headline or the first para, so just read the bad bits.
2. The Guardian are normally the biggest cycling advocates - they promote cycling as a means of transport, whereas other papers never mention cycling, or in the Times' case it's a nice thing to do for a Sunday afternoon jolly. I know they have to give a balanced view, but lets face it, they don't normally.
3. The final line is a plug for the Guardian's new book 'Cyclebabble'. They now that only cyclists will be interested beyond paragraph three, becuase by then non-cyclists will be laughing at the lycra clad bit and sniggering. So they get their book in!!!!!! The bloody cheek of it.
I do sincerely hope they are wrong. Studies aside, when I am out and about in Leicester I see the difference - it's visible, there are tons of cyclists on the roads and paths and they are not all wearing lycra. At the weekend we were out and about in Bradgate Park area - we saw people cycling to the pub in Cropston, to the Open Gardens event and to Stonehurst Family Farm in Mountsorrel.
People are cycling in Leicester, and they are loving it!
Sunday, 29 May 2011
Magic day...
Somtimes you just have one of those days but in a good way, and Friday 27th May was no exception.
It was the day of the annual Phoenix Bike Ride, where staff from schools bring 400 kids into the city centre on their bikes to watch bike films at the Phoenix. I rode in with a school from Thurmaston, and I have to say it was awesome (to use an american phrase which I usually hate!). I set off on my first leg at 0745, and 6.5 miles later (along the fab Riverside/Abbey Park/Space Centre route out to Watermead Park and beyond to Thurmaston. Then back into Leicester with the kids, watch some films, have some photos with councillors etc, then back out to the school. One of the big points of this is to show the kids (and adult helpers!) how easy it is to cycle into the city centre (Leicester).
Anyway, kids safely back at school, my work here is done and it's off to the Western>. I love this pub, it's kind of been our surrogate Pump and Tap, since the Pump was famously knocked down to build a swimming pool for De Montfort University. By the time I get to the pub and ctach up with various colleagues I've done 27 miles on my trusty Merida Glide.
A pint of beer later and I am persuaded to join various colleguey types on Leicester's Critical Mass (monthly bike ride around Leicester, attracted over 170 cyclists last month. I'd never heard the term Critical Mass until a couple of months ago - you'll have to check out the facebook page to read about its philosophy...
The ride attracted at least a couple of hundred people anyway, and took us on a route round the ring road, past the Space Centre (for only the 5th time that day!!!!) and ended up with several circles round the clock tower, which was akin to being at the eye of a storm - virtually imposible to escape once in the middle of it! There's some fab photos on the facebook page.
Ended up at the Criterion. I asked the bar man what bottled lagers they had, as they didn't serve Sol (which I'd ask for). He grumpily told me they had over 300 bottled lagers, so I replied that something light would do. Anyway he plonked an opened bottle of Desperado (a tequila laced mexican beer) in front of me. Not sure I needed a tequila laced beer at that particular point in time but went with it. Cycled home after just the one (only being a good girl because Twickenham looming the next day). Magic by Ladyhawke was the first song that came on, and yes - it had been a magic day...
Cyclometer showed 35 miles when I got in. Slept like a baby - flat on back, woke up in exact same posiition ready for the rugby.
It was the day of the annual Phoenix Bike Ride, where staff from schools bring 400 kids into the city centre on their bikes to watch bike films at the Phoenix. I rode in with a school from Thurmaston, and I have to say it was awesome (to use an american phrase which I usually hate!). I set off on my first leg at 0745, and 6.5 miles later (along the fab Riverside/Abbey Park/Space Centre route out to Watermead Park and beyond to Thurmaston. Then back into Leicester with the kids, watch some films, have some photos with councillors etc, then back out to the school. One of the big points of this is to show the kids (and adult helpers!) how easy it is to cycle into the city centre (Leicester).
Anyway, kids safely back at school, my work here is done and it's off to the Western>. I love this pub, it's kind of been our surrogate Pump and Tap, since the Pump was famously knocked down to build a swimming pool for De Montfort University. By the time I get to the pub and ctach up with various colleagues I've done 27 miles on my trusty Merida Glide.
A pint of beer later and I am persuaded to join various colleguey types on Leicester's Critical Mass (monthly bike ride around Leicester, attracted over 170 cyclists last month. I'd never heard the term Critical Mass until a couple of months ago - you'll have to check out the facebook page to read about its philosophy...
The ride attracted at least a couple of hundred people anyway, and took us on a route round the ring road, past the Space Centre (for only the 5th time that day!!!!) and ended up with several circles round the clock tower, which was akin to being at the eye of a storm - virtually imposible to escape once in the middle of it! There's some fab photos on the facebook page.
Ended up at the Criterion. I asked the bar man what bottled lagers they had, as they didn't serve Sol (which I'd ask for). He grumpily told me they had over 300 bottled lagers, so I replied that something light would do. Anyway he plonked an opened bottle of Desperado (a tequila laced mexican beer) in front of me. Not sure I needed a tequila laced beer at that particular point in time but went with it. Cycled home after just the one (only being a good girl because Twickenham looming the next day). Magic by Ladyhawke was the first song that came on, and yes - it had been a magic day...
Cyclometer showed 35 miles when I got in. Slept like a baby - flat on back, woke up in exact same posiition ready for the rugby.
Monday, 23 May 2011
Cycling through the Seasons of Love
WARNING - IF YOU'RE EASILY OFFENDED THEN LOOK AWAY (Later in this blog I'll be quoting from Team America World Police)...
My friend S is doing a Bike Ride from Leicester to East Coast vacation hotspot Skegness in a couple of weeks for Help the Heroes and asked me if I'd go on a ride last Saturday for 'practice'. On the way to Glenfield, I was cycling up Letchworth Rd when 'Seasons of Love' from Rent came on. It is the only song from a musical that's on my Blackberry (honest) and there's many places I cycle that I would be a touch embarrassed to have a song from Rent blaring out - but not the middle class haven that is Letchworth Road, it's a Letchworth Road kind of song.
The thing is - I can't hear any song from Rent without thinking of the Team America World police spoof of it 'Lease' with the world's most unpolitically correct song 'AIDS'. The words are in fact almost unprintable, so on second thoughts I'm reluctant to post them on this blog. The spoof of Rent is not big or funny(weeeellll....) or clever (actually, it's quite clever in a purile way) but if you want to check it out on YouTube then I won't tell anyone...
Anyway, S and I managed 18 miles (me a further 4 to Glenfield and back) despite the fact my neck was a bit dodgy and I couldn't look left. S had to constantly ride on my right, and look left at junctions.
For the record, my neck has now completely seized up which is a bit shit. Ironically I have just spent the last half an hour on the phone to Ticketmaster complaining that they have booked me a disabled space for Stevie Nicks at Hard Rock Calling when I said general admission. Maybe they knew something I didn't.
My friend S is doing a Bike Ride from Leicester to East Coast vacation hotspot Skegness in a couple of weeks for Help the Heroes and asked me if I'd go on a ride last Saturday for 'practice'. On the way to Glenfield, I was cycling up Letchworth Rd when 'Seasons of Love' from Rent came on. It is the only song from a musical that's on my Blackberry (honest) and there's many places I cycle that I would be a touch embarrassed to have a song from Rent blaring out - but not the middle class haven that is Letchworth Road, it's a Letchworth Road kind of song.
The thing is - I can't hear any song from Rent without thinking of the Team America World police spoof of it 'Lease' with the world's most unpolitically correct song 'AIDS'. The words are in fact almost unprintable, so on second thoughts I'm reluctant to post them on this blog. The spoof of Rent is not big or funny(weeeellll....) or clever (actually, it's quite clever in a purile way) but if you want to check it out on YouTube then I won't tell anyone...
Anyway, S and I managed 18 miles (me a further 4 to Glenfield and back) despite the fact my neck was a bit dodgy and I couldn't look left. S had to constantly ride on my right, and look left at junctions.
For the record, my neck has now completely seized up which is a bit shit. Ironically I have just spent the last half an hour on the phone to Ticketmaster complaining that they have booked me a disabled space for Stevie Nicks at Hard Rock Calling when I said general admission. Maybe they knew something I didn't.
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