Monday 22 December 2008

Being friends?

Sorry, its boring I know, but another diary post has to be gotten off ones chest...

The big BDay night went well up until the final hour, which saw another argument between me and AnnE. She and DPSyc had come up to the Stol and we were all gunna stay on the floor around a friends house. D still didn’t know that we had been seeing each other – A had said previously that she didn’t want to tell him to avoid any house awkwardness. This was bothering me a bit as it meant we were still not open in the house- she would, for example, scurry out of my hug if she heard D coming down the stairs. Most of my better friends knew about us and I thought this weekend would be a good time for him to find out. Anyway, AnnE had arrived first. I made an effort to look after her, kept an eye out to make sure someone was with her and went over and talked to her if she was on her own. The drink flowed and eventually everyone seemed to be having a good time. I had gone up to the DJ to ask him to play The Killers' Mr Brightside at midnight as my Birthday came in, but at the last second decided to leave it to fate. 10 minutes later everyone is laughing at me as I do a fucked off dance to Maria Carey's version of All I Want For Christmas Is You. A and I suddenly find ourselves alone – D was off somewhere so I grab her and we have a really good kiss. I hug her and everything feels great.

Much like the young guy in the police drama, who is doing his last drugs bust before heading back to Law School to support his young family, it is all too predictable which way it is going to go.

We dance some more and D comes back. I back off and get my drink. The songs pass and I get bored. I eventually ask her if it’s a good time to tell D about us, but she cant hear me. I grab her hand and take her to a corner, but she still cant hear. I take her outside, where she can hear, but doesn’t listen to me and thinks im being jealous like last week* and having a go at her for dancing with D. I explain I only want to be alone with her so we can kiss, but that I also think its time we told D so we wouldn’t have to be secret. Probably 5 or 10 minutes pass, but we are not progressing. The floor seems to shake a little as she says that its over between us.

I protest but shes sure. I ask for a reason. She says that people always split up. She doesn’t want to fight with me and that if we keep going out we will split up and it will be awful. I was so nice to her last week when she was ill that she realised she doesnt want to lose me. She only wants to be my friend as friends can last forever. I tell her that’s stupid and that people do stay together - that people definitely don’t stay together if they break up before they’ve had a chance of going out properly. Shes asks me to name 5 couples who have stayed together and I give her them without missing a beat, but it does no good.

People start leaving the club, walking past us as I try to talk her round. Toast walks past with some friends and gives me a knowing look as we low five goodbyes. D comes out with Meg and C-Unit. I say to them all that me and A have been going out, but that she has just dumped me. I count at lest 4 tumbleweeds blow past. I turn to D and say 'sorry I didn’t tell you sooner'. They suggest we go back to the flat. I go to get my coat and Anne comes too. She says she doesn’t want to lose me as a friend. This hits a nerve and I tell her to fuck off. We get back to the guys and I check my watch, its 2.35 – ten minutes until the last night bus back to my folks’ house. I say im going to get it, and that D and A should go back to Meg’s as planned. I walk off but A follows me. She doesn’t want to leave it like this. As the kebab queues diminish, and the last few drunks leave the street, it goes on and on. She doesn’t give a better reason than not wanting to lose our friendship when we break up further down the line, even when i suggest a few to her. We soon stop communicating. The layers of arguments become so thick that we are barely touching the cake.

Thinking about it now, she is probably right – we have argued or talked about arguing more than we’ve had fun over the last fortnight, and that isn’t really the foundation for a long term relationship. I can see that logically, but in my heart I still want to make things work out. If she really wants to be friends so much she shouldn’t have kept trying to pull me this year when she was drunk and I was seeing the Twin and LEA. Even when we talked soberly about getting together there was no mention of the friends-being-lost problem. Meg asked me the next day if she thought it might be the case that she was only interested when it was secret and exciting. I hadn’t ever thought that, and don’t really now, but the last paragraph, at least, paints that picture.

What is blindingly obvious is that there are other reasons that she is not saying. I would really like to know them, just so I can take them onboard – they might help me out in the future.

The next morning I wake and feel wholly rubbish. I look around my room and recognise my bedroom as the one at my parents house. The memories of the above flood in and I hope it’s a bad dream. I remember walking A back to the flat and then walking about a park in Clifton wondering where it had all gone wrong. Eventually I got a taxi home and had a good chat with the driver about what had gone on. The texts soon start rolling in from around the country from friends wishing me a happy 30th and hoping that I had a good night out. Among them is A saying shes ‘sorry very very sorry’. I pin some hope to this and over the next day and a half we exchange a few texts- me asking if we had really split, her replying that she was sorry. I eventually phone her to ask her if there is any future for us. I need to know. She says that there isn’t after what I said. I don’t remember what I said but she doesn’t want to go back over it.

So here we are again. Dumped twice in 3 months. I had made a resolution last year to make a greater effort with girls, to take more chances, and it has worked well. But its not a nice feeling to get dumped, especially for a shit reason. Everyone said it was a bad idea to go out with a friend and a housemate, and my current hesitation to head back to the flat serves as fairly conclusive proof that everyone was right again. Despite this, under the same circumstances, I think I’d have to do it again – You’ve got to try these things out for yourself.

There are, however, some positives. I only slept 3 hours on Sat night worrying about this. I managed 5 hours last night, and with the definitive closure gained in conversation today my head feels a lot less like a Spectrum trying to load up Vista, so I might well do the 8. I got over LEA – I certainly dont hate her anymore – and ill get over AnnE. I haven’t even cried this time. Maybe we can even be friends. Don’t get me wrong- I will miss the hugs, and id like a better reason off her when I see her, and I really hope she tries to pull me again at some point so I can tell her to fuck off - but it is obviously for the best if she doesn’t want it, so I will get my shit together and move on. I can plan holidays now, ive got some motivation to train hard and I will not have to worry about her or her problems so much. The biggest positive was realising my friends will be there for me. Meg and C unit took me out the next day even though I barely said a word and C was completely open and philosophical on his previous lost loves as I gave him a lift home. JB and Barbie were on the phone to me straight away and Pman made me laugh out loud for 5 minutes with this text (following on from a ‘cheers for coming, I got dumped at end’ - type effort from me);

We both had a brilliant time! Sorry about AnnE but my brief assessment was nice tits, bad attitude so I think you’re better off without. I hope you don’t somehow get back together and end up married now.

The blogTV show, ‘Living with my ex in the same flat’ will begin in the New Year.

Merry Xmas y’all.

*her dancing and flirting with some cocks last week were The Truth - star of the last post.

Monday 15 December 2008

Errors and issues (featuring The Truth).

For fuck’s sake.

I had a massive row with AnnE at the weekend. It was no fun whatsoever. It was preceded, predictably, by far too much drinking. At the time the issues seemed so huge that they dwarfed any chance we had of staying together. The truth was so big and scary that when it crawled out of its lair I was petrified and couldn’t look it in the eye. Every action I attempted to make it go away just seemed to feed it's strength. I talked about it with The Captain as it loomed large over both of us at 3am in a takeaway, but we failed to make it go away.

The Truth followed me home and featured heavily in the row, which i am not very experienced in, and have no desire to gain any more.

Then, in the cold light of a two day hangover the truth was pathetic. It had shrunk to the size of a spider I could crush without even realising. It still made me jump a little when I saw it (it was spider after all, what was it doing in here?) and it had a flicker of power to worry me about our future. But in comparison to the beast i had seen last night it was minuscule. Nights out can get silly – out of control before you realise what has happened.

We talked a bit about the way we remembered things going on but it was hard work for us both. I remain slightly concerned that she is not as serious as me about going out – she infers that she doesn’t want things to go wrong between us because of the house, where as in comparison to her I couldn’t really give a fuck about the house. In my darkest moments I worry she feels trapped ‘seeing’ me as dumping me would make the house awkward, but I hope she is stronger than letting such things drag out. In our warmest moments, which are (well, were) the vast majority, it still feels great and more than worthwhile. I am (well, was) falling for her.

I guess, like everyone else, we could go either way. Time has it in her hands.

Tuesday 9 December 2008

The criminal’s address.

Our first house party went quite well. The flat by the sea has been threatening to open its doors ever since we have moved in, but the summer came and went with nothing but clashing dates, and the idea’s momentum was burnt out. DPsyc turned it around when one of his course mates, Zil, had a birthday coming up and was reluctant to do anything for it. He stealthily Facebooked, emailed and called up her old and new housemates, some friends and coursemates, and we all stood together in the darkened lounge while Zil came up the stairs. Her illusion of a few quiet drinks round ours then out into town were shattered with the sharp sounds or party poppers and shrill voices of SURPRISE!

Then it was all over. I had felt more tense than I had hoped, and spent a fair bit of time in sight of some undergrads that I feared might be in danger of breaking, or puking on, some stuff if left unchecked. We played a good party game where you have to pick up a piece of card off the floor using only your mouth, and only your feet can touch the floor, but there were some bendy girls who were better at it than me. I chatted to a guy from the Wakeboarding club, who by chance was also one of Zil’s new housemates. The land of the Plym is a very small place. Then I left on my drive to A’s and Veggies for the Grim8 – a race I had entered at the last minute – and stayed at theirs for the rest of the weekend.

On my return late into Sunday, DPsyc told me that his car had been ‘done over’ sometime on the Friday night. He had called the police and they had informed him that he was one of 12 who had reported something missing or broken from their cars over the Friday/Saturday night. We were later to learn (through a variety of unreliable sources) that a ‘Druggie’ who was new to the area had been out stealing things that could be shifted quickly in exchange for his next hit. What a fucker. DPsyc’s side indicator bulbs were gone, his wing mirror glass removed, his lock destroyed with a screwdriver, but this unsuccessful entry attempt had led onto his back window glass being smashed – even though there was nothing in the car to steal.

Amazingly, the police called back to say that some of the items had been recovered. The guy had apparently been caught, and some of the items, including DPsyc’s side indicators were found. These were returned in a sealed evidence bag, which was obviously some sort of mistake, as it had the address of where they were recovered from, in fact they had the exact location, ‘On coffee table, front room’ of where they were recovered from. The address was about 20 houses down from ours. I once did 6 months work at the Crown Prosecution Service and remember they were incredibly paranoid about sending out witness statements to the defence, as each one had to meticulously checked for any hint of a location as to wear the Witness might be from. Each one had large bits blacked out, and were checked several times by different people before they were posted. The police here obviously didn’t care too much about giving out this guys address to the one of his victims. The guy himself is probably too smacked of his head to care about anything.

I was quite angry about the cars that got broken – thousands of pounds worth of damage – all for one individual who has gone wrong. I don’t know if I should feel sorry for him, or if it’s OK to feel like I do, that he should be put in jail for a long time. I understand that that isn’t really the solution, but I struggle to see what is. We half-to-quarter-joked about what we should send him in the post, or what we should put on his doorstep at 4 in the morning.

Im still not sure.

Tuesday 18 November 2008

Pants

I check my watch and its time to leave. I have to get showered, changed, parked and walk up to the quiz, all in 30 mins. Hopefully ill have a spare 5 minutes to get some dinner in on the way.

I am rushing as I enter the changing rooms and take off my faithful Senegalese football shirt. I hunt in my bag for some shower gel. I take off my shoes, socks and shorts and am just about to take of my pants and head for the showers when I recognise Tom Daley. Plymouth's golden boy (well, golden in the 8th, rather than 1st place in the Olympics sense) is also in the changing rooms. This fact confuses me slightly and I’m not sure what to do, but end up staring at him, my mind matching his real life face with TV memories from Beijing. He catches me looking at him so I feel compelled to combat the rapidly increasing awkwardness and say,

‘Oh Hiya!’

pointing at him with one hand and giving a thumbs up with the other. He is polite enough to reply and nod while I continue the crap conversation;

'So you're back into training now then...'

'Hope everything is going well..'

'Did you really fall out with the other synchro guy?..'

But something is wrong. Suddenly I'm very aware of my lack of clothing. His voice is saying the occasional word but his body language is saying ‘stop talking to me this is very uncomfortable.’ I imagined afterwards that the dialogue in his head was saying , ‘A sweaty man has rushed into the room, taken most of his clothes off and then has suddenly started talking to me. Get yourself out of this situation.’

So that was the day I spoke to Tom Daley in my pants.

Tuesday 11 November 2008

Krypton Fish Amazon Factor

By some mysterious, and numerous, quirks of fate, not to mention a series of unlikely events I find myself lying in bed with AnnE. We embrace as a hangover stamps noisily around my body and I dare to dream of contentment in between short dozes and long thoughts over investing and getting dumped. Once bitten twice shy, and all that.

The past few weeks have been messy. I’ve drunk more than I have in years, partly because there are no races to prepare for but mainly because there has been a busy social calendar and I feel like I may as well get involved. This time last year I was off to Brazil with work for 6 weeks, and had arranged my 3 week holiday straight afterwards, so I missed the current seasonal change to cold dark evenings with leaves on the ground. This year I seem to be busier at work than ever, and yet still find myself wondering what my next challenge should be. Common sense seems to indicate I should get the current one finished first.

I entered the new series of ITV’s 'Krypton Factor' on a whim, and got an interview, but couldn’t make it through work commitments. They phoned up on a Wednesday and were like, ‘Ooo, could you come up to Cardiff on Friday morning’ and I was like, ‘well maybe if you'd given me some warning, but I've got work on Friday.’ So they tried to re-arrange but it wasn’t to be. In a similar vein I am also writing an application for a BBC wildlife series, but suspect that this one will be slightly more competitive. I hope that tales of my trip to Brazil might count for something and I can get an expedition out to combine filming some fish, maybe giant freshwater stingrays, with doing some more fieldwork for the current work project. You’ve got to have a dream, right?

AnnE is lovely, but, I’m dont feel able to rush into anything this time. I’ve gone from living in different cities to the previous two girls I’ve ‘seen’ to living in the same house as AnnE. Its not that awkward par se, but sometimes on a bland Tuesday evening you just want to veg out and not have to make an effort. I think ill miss the excitement of dating, as I see her a lot at the house so the time is not that special. That said, we are having a ‘date’ tonight to see the new Bond flick, so we’ll soon figure out how we feel. Speaking to a few mates I don’t think housemates getting together is as uncommon as I first thought – I can now think of 3 at least – all of which went/are still going long term.

Time will tell.

Thursday 16 October 2008

Very apt...

I've just had the craziest week,
Like a party bag of lies, booze and then deceit.
And I don't know why I want to voice this out loud,
It's therapeutic somehow.

So I'm moving to New York cos I've got problems with my sleep,
And we're not the same and I will wear that on my sleeve.
So I'm moving to New York cos I've got issues with my sleep,
Looks like Christmas came early, Christmas came early for me.

I put one foot forward and ended up thirty yards back,
Am I losing touch? Or am I just completely off the track?
And I don’t know why I want to voice this out loud,
It’s therapeutic somehow.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZTEN359V8pI

(...apart from the moving to New York bit)

Tuesday 30 September 2008

Oh. (Dumped)

Oh.

Still no news from LEA. No text. No message. I hate myself for doing so, but I check her Facebook. She is definitely back, its full of loads of shit updates. Whats going on?

I email her at lunchtime, ‘Hey! Are you back?’

She replies, ‘Yeah’

Nothing else. One word. Not even a full stop.

Oh.

This is not good.

I don’t reply.

The afternoon passes.

I walk home, and decide to go up round the Hoe. I pass a bench looking out over the sea and sit down to think. I look to my right and see another bench. I suddenly get a memory. That bench, this location, has some history. It’s the bench I sat on about 9 years ago, under what feels like similar circumstances, when I had just split with my Uni girlfriend. At this moment (well, lets not lie, about 1 minute after id set off again) I get the text.

'Blah blah blah are you free for a chat blah blah blah blah I'm finding more than friends weird and holiday made me realise that. Don’t want to loose you as a friend thou blah blah blah blah'

Oh.

So that’s it.

My mind whirrs. I'm gutted, but it’s some sort of relief to know at least. My brain kicks out these thoughts, in this order, over the next 5 minutes:

1. Does that mean she’s shacked up with some cunt on her holiday?
2. What am I going to do with the tickets I bought for us to go and see Tim Minchin on Sunday?
3. I cringe at the thought of sending her a FaceBook message while she was on holiday saying that I missed her loads.
4. What / How has (this) gone wrong in such a short space of time?
5. I don’t think I want to be friends with her. Ive seen a different side and cant go back.

I get home. I decide to run away from the problem. I run for 2 hours. I did 1¾ hours yesterday, so I’ve just set a new record for the most running I’ve ever done in 2 days – about 30 miles.

I feel more angry than distraught.

But I still cry a little bit.

My thoughts sway between two schools. The ageing 3-belt champion idea is to call her up and launch into her; tell her she shouldn’t be so fickle, shouldn’t fuck about with peoples feelings, and should have told me before she went on holiday. But this is not me. The undefeated young challenger idea is to try and rise above it – we were good friends once - we've got lots of mutual friends. Maybe, probably, in a week or two ill be grateful for doing so if I bite my lip now. I decide to not reply and let things set in for a day or two.

Then I get home and change my mind. I think I should send her a text or else she might call me and I don’t really want to speak to her. At first I write:

‘WTF?! Youre so weird. You shouldnt fuck about with peoples feelings’

But during typing it the predictive text only found ‘duck’ instead of ‘fuck’ and as I was trying to solve it the screen suddenly said ‘Sending Message.’

Panic!

I press every button on the phone 34 times in one second and thank fuck it cancelled the sending. Phew. I’m not sure what LEA would have made of ‘you shouldn’t duck’ Maybe she would have taken it as a threat – ‘don’t you fucking duck bitch when I shoot at you!’ - Or maybe not. I think back to when I finished with the Twin and got a blank text through; I guess she wasn’t quite so lucky with the cancelling.

Having read the text back it sounded a bit jovial, a bit matter of fact. I want her to know she has hurt, but I don’t want to write an essay. I change it to;

‘Oh. Understood. I am gutted. You shouldnt be so fickle with peoples hearts’

No Reply.

Good.

Now I'm in my room listening to Damien Rice and Arcade Fire, typing this. I made some freezer bolognaise but cant eat it. I try to phone my mum (she doesn’t know about LEA) as it would be nice to have a chat about nothing in particular, but she is engaged for three tries.

Oh.

Without wanting to sound too fickle myself, I’m looking forward to ‘Amazon’ tonight more than ever. Ive heard that they go to Manaus in one episode, the city I stayed in for 6 weeks last year.

I hope AnnE and DPsyc are not downstairs as Ill have to tell them and it will be rubbish.

Dumped.

Oh.

Friday 26 September 2008

The Sport and The Girl(s)

Rubbish. Ive left too long between posts again. My boss has come back from Oz so ive been busy catching up with the stuff I should have done while she was away but was watching YouTube for most of the day.

Bristol half marathon was a lovely day out. I ran with my friend J for a few miles, then he pulled away from me and I never saw him again until the end. He finished 1 minute in front of me with little training, which was ever so slightly annoying, but I did do my best time for Bristol by 1 second which cancelled out any disappointment. Another friend was 40 seconds in front of me, and his brother did under 1 hour 20 seconds, which is a ridiculous time. I enjoyed the day, and despite the even shitter than usual goody bag, it is a treat to run around the closed off city streets which have so many childhood memories.

I saw LEA on the Friday night before and had an OK time at the cinema. We watched Rocknrolla which was quite shit, and she was very tired throughout the evening. She then bailed on coming to the race, and then I couldn’t get in contact with her in the evening so had to head back without seeing her. I was, at the time, convinced something was up.

Last weekend I did a posh gym triathlon. It was very funny. DPsyc, my housemate, is a member there and noticed a flyer on the wall advertising a sprint triathlon. It turned out to be a 5k exercise bike, 3k outside run and finally 10 lengths of a 20m pool. I turned up and had a look about the place, which emerged to be incredibly nice. The huge aircon room full of machines and weights, the aircraft hanger of indoor tennis courts, the spa, the pools, the everything. But with hindsight, maybe it was too nice. I don’t think id be able to properly train in such nice surroundings- id be wanting to sit down and have a coffee rather than busting out some running. Anyway, I made my way to the ‘Conservatory’ where 8 exercise bikes were lined up. I’ve never really had a go on a proper exercise bike, so had a quick warm up while I was waiting to start. It doesn’t really bare any resemblance to road cycling but is quite good fun. The distance goes down faster by either increasing your pedalling speed or by increasing the resistance. I just got my cadence to about 100 and then dialled up the resistance to what I felt like I could keep going for 5k. I ended up doing it in 7 minutes something, which was in second place, about a minute behind some old guy who had gone out hard and looked like he was really struggling to stay upright as he negotiated down the steps to start his run. I caught him up on the run and was about 20 seconds behind him as he started his swim. I eventually overtook him on the last length of the swim and so won my heat by 4 seconds. I got an email with the results on the next day and it turned out that I had finished second overall. That’s my best result ever, by miles, which was truly exciting! And just shows that if you want to get fit, and nice comfy gym is not the place to do it.

LEA has been on holiday for the past week or so, which has left me lots of time to both reflect on what is happening between us and avoid kissing other girls when drunk. Two feats which I have achieved with some pride, but, it remains incredible how much more interest I am attracting having told people im now ‘seeing’ someone. Its like you are flagged up as an acceptable catch when you’re seeing someone else, while you get pased over as potentially dodgy when you’re single. I think I might write this up as a post, if I can just find some time to waste at work.

Good weekends to you all.

Monday 15 September 2008

Written on Friday, posted on Monday...

Hungover, I am, again, after Pub Thursday. There are no stories from the week so it will be a diary post today.

Wake boarding was cancelled last night due to it being too windy. We went down to the centre but the sea was really choppy and the two experienced guys both thought it would be rubbish, so we drove home and moaned about the weather. It has, apparently, been the wettest two consecutive summers ever in England. It feels like the summer has been stolen, but southern Europe has had better than average sunshine, so maybe not. It is made worse by not having a holiday to look forward to this year. There is no Brazil trip (though maybe next year…), and I haven’t booked another holiday as am really struggling with funds while trying to save up for a new car. I think once I get switched into winter mode ill quite enjoy it, but at the moment my body wants to lie in the sun, but the weather is so cold we have had to put the heating on.

This morning I have been reading a lot about the LHC and am quite interested in its results, despite not fully understanding the finer details of what is going to happen. It is by far the biggest and most exciting science experiment ever made. There is a really good science podcast on the BBC (here) the current episode of which is all about the LHC. If you have any science geek genes whatsoever you’ll probably enjoy it. I’ve just tried to put a clever status on my Facebook saying that the LHC was not as complicated as my HPLC (which is constantly going wrong) but it kept on crashing so I gave up.

This weekend brings the Bristol Half marathon, which is my last race of the season. I’ve lost a little bit of enthusiasm for training over the final few weeks, but am still hoping to run a PB, and will be gutted if I don’t get under 1h30m. My run training has been slightly different this year as ive done a lot more easy pace long runs (~20K) and occasional short sprints, as opposed to only running my usual 10K type distances. Ive also been playing 5-a-side footy once a week which I think is brilliant for speed training, but I guess we will see on Sunday.

Im back to the homeland tonight, so have got another date with LEA. Things are going ‘alright’, which is a step down from the first few weeks, but I think this is mainly because I haven’t seen her for 4 weeks. The reasons why, and the consequences of which can be analysed (and have been, by my head) for hours with few conclusive answers turning up.

Friday 5 September 2008

What am I?

The familiar sensations come back to me as I walk into work. My legs ache, like all the toxins from last night have migrated down into my calves. My mind whirs as I flick through the memories of last night. I turn on the radio in my phone and plug in the earphones. The music sounds different. It has stopped being background noise. The tunes kick down the door to my mood and overpower my senses. I smile and sing. The songs mean nothing to me but my eyes are welling up. I feel euphoric as a thunderstorm soaks me and rain and tears run down my face.

Weird.

I get a sausage bap, a coffee, and retire to my office. I write this post. My legs still ache.

I’m hungover.

Monday 1 September 2008

Wakey Wakey!

Yeah I went Wake boarding last night. Do you see what I’ve done with the title there?

A few of the guys from work go every week and there was a spare place on the boat so they asked me to come along. My only concern about doing it was getting injured as I’ve got the ‘Stol Half Marathon in 2 weeks, and I have seen quite a few of the first timers hobbling about the day after with a whiplash or crooked neck from a wipe out on their first go. I’ve always fancied giving it a try though so it seemed too go a chance to miss, and plenty of time to recover if it did all go wrong.

I’m really glad I decided to go too, it’s Fantastic Contraption-esque in how much fun it delivers and was a great evening. I think it was worth the £10 fee just to have a drive around Plym sound for a few hours, and we even had a hint of sunshine (which has been extremely rare this summer):



I got a lot of advice from the regulars on how to get standing up, which, apparently, is the most difficult part. Waz went first and zoomed around both sides of the wake and even pulled the ‘Michael Jackson’ pose, which as you might imagine involves your right hand grabbing your crotch and shouting something that sounds like ‘Shaaa-mon!’

It was soon my go and I sat in the water, legs bent, touching my arse with my heels as I’d been instructed. The boat pulled away, and as instructed I didn’t fight the rope, and tried to let the boat pull me up. After about 0.5 seconds I was in a desperate fight with the rope and boat didn’t seem to be pulling me anywhere but under the water. After about 1 second I was going head first, doing a quite convincing impression of a basking shark as gallons of water went into and swilled around my mouth, and then with no gills to escape from it all went down into my stomach. Not a good start, I thought, as I coughed it all back up again. My second go achieved a similar fate, and I was probably on about my tenth go before I eventually managed to get standing, then changing direction, and then crossing the wake before taking a dip. Looking back now I think I got too much advice at the start and did the best when I just pulled myself up on instinct rather than doing everything I had been told. On my last go the driver, Tam, gave me a ‘circle of death’ which is a first timers initiation involving him driving in a circle as fast as he can, everyone on the boat shouting ‘C-O-D!’ ‘C-O-D!’ as loud as they can, and me spinning wider and wider on the rope, going faster than I can, right up until doing my second impression of the evening, this time of a skimming stone that had been thrown by a professional stone skimmer, as I bounced over the water crooking my neck and giving myself whiplash.

Today I’m having to do that thing when you have to turn your whole body to look a different way, which is quite annoying, but nothing a nice rest won’t fix. I'm now wondering if I'm cool enough to pull off describing myself as a 'Boarder.

Probably not.

Thursday 28 August 2008

Hello world.

What with the Olympics and Fantastic Contraption, I have lost quite a bit of Blog momentum and not posted for a while. This leaves the frequently encountered problem of whether or not to back date a brief history of all that has happened (not a great deal) or write a post on one specific thing and loose any sense of continuity. I have decided to do neither, but to include this paragraph as some form of justification.

One thing that has been very slowly emerging as some form of success of late has been my project at work. We got the fish breeding relatively quickly, but it has taken an age to get them successfully raising their young, rather than deciding to have a kiddie midnight feast. I have spent hours and hours in the aquarium recording what is going on in terms of the parent-parent and parent-offspring interactions which is reasonably interesting, but leaves me with a lot of spare time. Cue my latest craze of photography and playing round with the settings to try and get a decent photo of the parents with their young. It has proved difficult, the biggest problems being the low light and shooting through the glass and into water. However, a high n value, rather than any great skill has served me well and I’ve had a few reasonably decent results. It’s just a shame that the colours darken up quite a bit during their parental stages:







Friday 8 August 2008

Diary time

So here we are again.

I called the Twin and felt quite sick as she answered in chirpy spirits and giggled down the phone to me. She was driving with The Other Twin so I said we needed to have a chat and asked when was a good time. She called back later and I said what I had rehearsed in my head – that I was enjoying seeing her, but that I didn’t see a long term future, so it was probably better to stop seeing each other. It was quite awkward and I didn’t enjoy it at all. I got a blank text from her about 10 minutes later which said ‘Nothing to display’ which I wondered if was her saying she had no emotion to display to me, but I later experimented and found out that it’s what gets displayed if you send a completely blank text. I thought about her debating whether or not to send me a text and then accidentally pressing send. Ive heard nothing since that text, so I hope she’s good and really wish her well.

The ‘split’ was the sum of a few parts. I’d had a chat to a friend, GR, while canoeing, who I know speaks to the other Twin. She was asking what was happening and I said – we saw each other every few weeks and it was going ok. GR asked if I wanted to be ‘with’ the Twin and I didn’t really know. She said that I should either get together properly or not see her at all – that we had passed the point where it was OK to casually see her. After thinking about this I agreed that she was right, maybe I was being a bit selfish. Another friend said I was ‘using’ her which I think sounds harsh, but there might be some truth in it. I think the bottom line is that I was happy casually seeing her and didn’t realise she was now needing more commitment.

I listened to ‘Everybodys Free (To Wear Sunscreen)' and took some life instructions from it: ‘Don’t be reckless with anybody’s heart’

The same weekend me and LEA got on really well. Over a bbq we drank some wine, chatted, flirted and later on had a bit of a cuddle before bed. I went back to my tent and wondered if I should have gone for more, but then woke up, thought ‘oh my head hurts’ and didn’t think much more about anything. On my way home I got a call from Barbie saying LEA had spoke to him, that she thought I had tried to kiss her goodnight and she had shied away and was now regretting it. Barbie said I should come back to Bris and take her out for a drink and chat. I was half way home and had to do 2 hours in the aquarium so said I couldn’t, but that I would call LEA later on. About 30 mins later a got a text from LEA saying she really liked me, was worried about breaking our friendship etc etc but would I like to go out.

I thought about this all the way home, usually with a big smile on my face. I called her and said I felt the same and arranged to go back to Bris the next weekend. She’s now coming down here tomorrow.

Things seem really good.

So far.

A Tradegy

When I was at Uni up north I used to play 5-a-side football for a staff team. We were generally older, slower and less fit the whipper-snapper undergrad teams, but we partially compensated by having a greater experience of the game and better organisation. The team was quite an interesting mix. We had the local MP in goal who was excellent at debating with referees about their dodgy decisions. I used to play midfield with a chef from Barbados, right behind our striker ‘Fletch’. He was a particularly interesting character – a scouser, an ex-monk, and now a religious studies lecturer. He apparently used to be the monk with the thought of the day on the 90’s breakfast TV show ‘The Big Breakfast’, but I can’t find anything on Google to back this up. We had an average season, but not knowing many people in a new town I really enjoyed playing and having some banter with the guys. Fletch organised a Christmas meal, and everyone, particularly Fletch made me feel part of the team and we laughed and joked our way through that evening and the next season. Eventually work dictated that I move away and I rarely, then never, saw the team.

I got sent a link to a Facebook group I could check the latest season’s results, and I heard that promotion was on the cards and that Fletch had got married and just had a little girl. Then last week I heard that Fletch had been to Australia on a conference, and had died from a heart attack.

Time and distance apart had softened this blow to me, but it’s always a horrible shock when you hear of someone’s death, especially someone who was so young and had just started a family.

'A Tradegy' just doesnt seem to do it justice.

Wednesday 30 July 2008

Sardines

We had been driven up river, floated, paddled and swam down to the campsite, and everyone was now making severe dents into their BBQ, beer and wine supplies. Someone suggested a game of ‘Sardines’ which involves one person hiding in a set area and the others trying to find them. The twist is that when you do find the hider, you join them (ideally without anyone else seeing you) and this continues until the last person is walking around on their own. It can get quite scary in the dark on your own, particularly if you play it in a closed fairground, which we did. After the first game it was decided that everyone should pair up, as the dark and ghostly horse faces on the carousel were making everyone jump, giggle and then reach out for some nearby reassurance. In the second game, LEA (with whom there is some history) and I had to hide. We ran off into the dark as 12 other 25-30 year old adults got into a huddle and counted up to 60 out loud. We found a carriage on the carousel that was made to look like a pair of the ghostly horses were pulling it around. We managed to fit under the seats where we faced each other, both giving out prods and tickles in an attempt to make each other laugh out loud and give away our position.

That was when it turned slightly scary.

But funny.

The fairground owner, a gypsy, came over and told some of the hunters that ‘this area is closed’ and ‘you should all leave right away’ The hunters took him seriously, but didn’t want to abandon the game. The Gypsy came over to the carousel and stepped up onto it, about 5 metres from where we lay. The whole metal base lurched over slightly under his weight, then clunked back up to level. We heard his footsteps as he traced a path across the carousel, then it lunged down and bounced up again as he stepped off. We heard the hunters calling out our names and telling us the game was over as everyone had to leave the fairground. We then saw J come over and he spotted us, dived into the carriage and started giggling with us, all in about 5 seconds. We whispered in the dark about what we should do, and were about to get up, when we heard someone else coming over. A couple came and stood right by the edge of the carriage. They began kissing, and for a horrible moment I thought they might come and sit in the carriage, but instead the girl got up on the horse pulling our carriage and the guy took some photos of her. The really strange thing for them, when they have a closer look at the photos, will be the 3 pairs of legs and feet visible in the background of their secret fairground elope.

The Gypsy came over and moved them on, ‘its really not safe for you here’ the really sounding severely intimidating to me, but probably more than it was meant to. I suddenly had visions of him pretending to have not seen us and start the carousel up, turning the speed up more and more until we flew out of the carriage and exploded on the concrete.

But he didn’t. We heard him walk off again and then made our escape back to the tents, laughing like kids all the way.

There is plenty more to this story, particularly parts involving LEA which will be explained later. I need to speak to the Twin tonight and call time on our involvement, the thought of doing which has been occupying my head for 2 days and is making me feel sick. I am a coward.

Friday 25 July 2008

The week that was

Sunday was the Plymouth Olympic distance Triathlon. I did a new pb of 23 mins for the swim, which A's had bettered by only 4 seconds, though i didn't know this until i got to transition and he was still there, putting on his cycling shoes. Its amazing how much faster a wetsuit makes you swimming; 3, maybe even 4 minutes over 1500m compared to the pool. The bike was one hill after another so felt like I was only ever either flying down, or struggling up a gradient, and didn’t ever really settle onto my tribars and power out some speed. I caught up A’s at 18km and had a brief ‘Hey’ ‘Hows it going’ as I went past. The run was fine for about 3k, but then I began to feel the early onset of cramp in my quads after going up ‘Murder’ hill. This seemed to clear on the flat, then flare up again on any up hill sections, though it never stopped me completely. Mind games I think. I crossed the line in the sunshine some 11 minutes quicker than my time last year. I really feel that I'm making progress and I think if I train hard this year I could make it into the top 20 next year. Great day.

Monday, one day later than Craig David, I chilled.

Tuesday I had my MOT. Everything on the exhaust seems to have become completely knackered. They managed to weld the manifold, but I needed several new hose bits and a new catalytic converter, not because it was knackered itself, but the pipe next it was corroded beyond a weld-repair. With a few other bits and bobs and the labour it was £580. I debated whether or not it was worth paying this out, but my dad convinced me it was. I wasn’t so sure, but went with his judgement. I'm going to save £200 a month this year and buy a new car next year. At least that’s the plan. In the evening I went fishing and finally caught some fish - 4 mackerel to be precise and I eat them for dinner. I caught one on a pink sand eel lure, and then 3 on some feathers.

Wednesday night I went surfing after work with two friends from work. It was predicted as 3-4 stars on Magic Seaweed, but the blue sky and sunshine had larger stakes in my decision to go. We went to Polzeath, which is probably the nearest north coast break, and it was really clean surf, if a little busy. I got out after about 90 minutes and had a look around the rock pools while I waited for the others to get out.

Thursday night the housemates and I discovered yet another reason why the flat by the sea is the best in Plymouth. We have joined the local Tennis club, which cost the mind bogglingly pitiful sum of £15 for the year. The tennis court is grass, but a little bit rubbish, but out behind the court there is a bowling green, another big grass area and a BBQ. It overlooks the sea and is absolutely beautiful. I couldn’t believe there was no one there, and the groundsman later told me that it rarely got used, which seems ridiculous. It’s like having a massive garden for £15 a year.

Friday night (tonight) I'm off back to Bris for a BBQ with friends before we head out on a canoeing trip. We get driven upriver by the canoe company, paddle/float our way down river then camp for the night and then carry on the next day before getting picked up and driven back. Sounds simply wonderful to me.

Thursday 10 July 2008

Have I been in the aquarium too long? How have I missed this sneaking up?



(and here)

Wheres the hype? Frenzy? (and ultimately dissapointment?)

Plus for all you Porno Pants fans, heres a rare glimpse of them in action...


Tuesday 8 July 2008

PP: Episode 8

Bournemouth Tri was a wash out. The swim got cancelled due to some waves which didn’t really compare to those we swam in at Bude. The wind was quite bad though, and both the Sprint and Olympic events got reduced to a 5k 20k 5k duathlon (run bike run). We had travelled over to Bournemouth on the Saturday, found our £23 B&B and guessed how long it had been since the rooms had been decorated; the latest estimate being 1985. At 5.15 the next morning my phone did its light up, vibrate, then beep alarm routine and we quickly showered, eat as many Weetabix as we dared and wheeled the bike down towards the seafront. The news of the swim cancellation came as no surprise and we racked our bikes and moaned about paying so much money out only for the race to be thwarted by a bit of wind. JC went off at 6.30, DC at 6.40 and A’s at 7. I had an hour to kill until my ‘veteran’ wave went off, which I spent cheering the others on as they came and left the transition area on their various legs, and warming my hands under a drier in the men’s toilets. I didn’t spend as long as I wanted to in there though for fear of the Porno Pants + Mens toilets + hanging around equalling some unwanted gay event that probably would have been worth blogging about. Both the run legs were the same out and back along the promenade and the bike was an undulating dual carriageway, all under the supervision of a relentless wind and rain. I hit 60km/h down one hill with the wind behind me, then struggled to average 20km/h on the way back with the wind and rain in my face. I must have sworn 20 times as rain dripped off my helmet and face and the puddles splashed up over my legs and filled my shoes. I sprinted the last 200 m and gritted my teeth as the wind sand-blasted my legs and I swore another 10 times.

Plymouth Olympic is in 2 weeks. I think if it rains then as well I am going to have to give some serious consideration to emigration.

Friday 4 July 2008

Bude Shoreline Triathlon (Porno Pants: Episode 7)

The water surface turns the suns light into visible rays, which penetrate to deep beds of kelp and rocks below. Both of my ears are water logged and there is little sound. I turn my head to breath and my right ear and eye break the surface. I see a flash of blue sky, some bubbling water and something of the dark shape that is the guy in a wetsuit next to me. The water in my ear clears and I suddenly hear a harsh churning of sound which just as quickly gets muffled again as my head turns back and ear goes under the water. This cycle of looking at the bottom, turning to breath, seeing some sky, ear clearing then blocking continues for about 5 minutes as I head out towards the buoy. The rocky bottom begins to get split up by lines of sand and eventually the dark aquamarines of the start have become completely saturated by the white sand. The water too becomes murky as the increasing waves pick up the sand and give it a smoothie-making blitz. By the time I arrive at the buoy the protection of a sea wall to my left has reduced to nothing and the full force of the surf is pounding us. Staying upright and breathing is becoming difficult, which I’m forced to give priority to above swimming for a few seconds. I manage to get to within 5 metres of the buoy and tread water for a bit, waiting for a space amongst the bodies to join in their migration around it and in towards the beach. A wave washes the buoy close to me, and for an instant I think I can make it around, only for the same wave to wash me backwards to from where I had just come. The wave passes and the buoy springs further back on its chain, now 20 metres away. I try again with similar results, and decide its best to just swim the long way round it than mess about playing dodge-buoy.


The swim at low tide- the buoy that caused all the trouble is just about visible

The rest of the race went well. I made it around the bike course with no crashes(!) and marvelled, and then checked out the two women who overtook me during the race - one on the bike and one on the run, after starting 5 minutes behind. The first was the eventual winner, Flora Duffy, who will be competing in the Beijing Olympics representing Bermuda, and was a proper little hottie with a very nice bike. The other was Helen Parkinson, who, it turns out was World Quadrathlon champion in 2006, and was a very tall hottie with a very nice behind. Both of them were going too fast to get a proper ogle at though.

***********************************************************************************

The summer of SMARTBuddy sport continues in 2 days with the Bournemouth Olympic distance tri. The only thing of note is my first progression to the world of being 30: The race is split up into age groups, and they take your age from the 31st December, which is after I will be 30. This means that I will have to start in the ‘old persons’ 30 years old and above group, and I have a ‘30’ in the age column next to my name in the start list, whihc is both untrue and unfair. Worse of all is that A’s is in the 18-29 group, and will start an hour before me so we won’t be able to race in ‘real time’ and will have to just compare times afterwards.

In summary, I’m upset about being nearly 30.

Tuesday 24 June 2008

Half birthday

My good friend A’s had his birthday at the weekend, which falls on the same day as my half birthday. For those not in the know, your half birthday is 6 months after your whole birthday. I only started celebrating my half birthday because it rained on A’s whole birthday parade, but its stuck, and once you start down the road of diving up the birthday year, various fractions of quarter, sixth and twelfth- birthday fragments are all available as excuses to get some cake in. It’s also nice to have a day in the summer – the longest day – to do some birthday type stuff, rather than having a day in the winter (the shortest day of the year – curse my luck!) when everyone’s already made plans for a Christmas party and can’t make it down the pub.

We had decided to do the Croyde Aquathlon, which is a Triathlon without the cycling bit, so I didn’t have any excuse to wear my new Porno pants and packed only ‘normal’ running shorts. We set off for the coast, put up our tents and watched in horror as the clouds swept in and began to rain on both of our various birthday fraction parades. The damp Saturday morning continued to keep any high spirits in check and we ate Weetabix in large units in the hope they would see us through the forthcoming efforts.

The sea was quite flat, the briefing anything but, and the enthusiasm of the race organiser made me smile. I struggled into my new swimming wetsuit and everyone pointed and laughed at my apparently strange shaped right knee. Ive never noticed this peculiarity before, and think it’s just an artifact of wearing the wetsuit. I wondered if I should put on my latest gadget - some mask-type goggles for the run to the sea, but feared they might steam up too quickly. I decided to hold them in my hand until getting into the water, and when the mini fog horn thing sounded, I set off in a crowd of rubber clad bodies down the beach. I went off to the left of the pack so as to get some clean water to swim into. I’ve been in the mix of the swim start before and once was definitely enough. The water felt quite warm on my head, and it was fine to get straight into the swimming rather than flail about doing breaststroke thinking ‘Ooooh it’s a tad chilly isn’t it?!’ We swam out to a big orange buoy, back in to a man on the beach then out and back around another buoy, making a big ‘M’ shape.

Check out my dodgy shaped knee!

A’s was just finishing getting changed when I arrived in transition and bid me farewell, shouting ‘take your time’ as he left for the run section. I wrestled my wetsuit off and trainers on, then followed him some 30 seconds later.

My back with A's in the distance and some very young looking race officials!

I remained this distance behind him for the whole race, never quite making any headway into the gap between us. I crossed the finish line and heard someone heaving, and looked over to see A’s puking up some of the extra Weetabix that hadn’t been required in beating me.

Well done mate.

Next stop in this summer of multi sport events is the Bude Sprint Triathlon on Sunday - and that will definitely be a porno pants outing!

Tuesday 10 June 2008

Who my parents were

I had a trip home the other weekend. I pulled the car up onto the drive and looked at the lounge window to see Mum and Dad waving me in, just as they always do, even when I arrive late. Mum had made some multi-grain bread and a fruit cake, as she has for the past 4 visits, all stemming from an off the cuff remark about quite liking them 5 months ago (my Nan did the exact same thing with Welsh cakes for a decade). Dad is eager to show me his new iPod and is grateful for me posting him the software to get it up and running on his computer. He hasn't quite grasped the magnitude of what 80GB is though, bless him, as he has only put 2 or 3 songs from each of his 16 albums as he 'doesn't want to fill it up with rubbish.'

I settle in with a cup of tea, and we have an hour or so of chatting about how I've been getting on at work and what the family have been up to. My parents both show smiles and flashes in their eyes as they talk about how much 'the boys' - my nephews - have grown up. Myles (my 5 year old nephew) had apparently seen me running the London marathon the previous week, which was a surprise, as I had been severely hungover in bed at the time it was on. He had seen a tall blonde guy (I later worked out to be the American Ryan Hall) and had decided that it must have been me. I'm happy with this, as have recently been compared to Peter Crouch (again) and Johnny Rotten (oh dear), both of which are a level down from America's premier distance runner.

Anyway, I digress.

Dad had made a new collage of photos in the study. He does this quite a lot. There are collages of my holiday photos, my sisters wedding, and old family photos scattered all around the house. He has made a photo area under the stairs, and there must be 50 pictures there, so tightly packed that its hard to take them all in. Dad once found a picture of his mum when she was in her 20s, taken just as she was about to tee off from the 18th hole of their local golf course in Bathampton. The next week he was up there pulling the same pose, on the same tee, but some 60 years later. The next Christmas all of his siblings got a framed version of both pictures, which dad just couldn't smile enough at as he gave out.

The study collage is a little more interesting though. It's old photos of my mum and dad. There are a few photos of their wedding which I've seen before, but some new ones of them camping, my dad surfing, and playing the guitar. In an age of waterproof digital cameras and several attempts, I've never got a photo of me surfing that is as good as this one. Maybe its the black and white, maybe i can, or would like to see shades of myself in my dads youth, but they're the most interesting photos I've ever seen.

In one, my mum and dad are sat having a BBQ by the sea, which is my favourite ever pastime. My dads car in the background with the boards on the roof is the coolest thing I've ever seen. There is one of dad in a garden, with his sister and his old 8ft Bilbo fibreglass long board that I can just remember being in the loft when i was a kid. I remember stories they have told me which are suddenly more real with these pictures to illustrate them. I start to see pathways through their life to mine; memories of being a kid, sitting on the work bench while my dad fixed the car and told me every step of what he was doing - he probably learnt those skills on the car in the picture. My mum is unrecognisable, with long brown hair, looking away from the camera, probably a bit shy. It reminds me of my group of friends camping, and some of the girls being shy of a camera - I wonder what my mum was like at this young age. The photos are long before me or my sister came along, long before there were the pressures of parenting and paying the mortgage. They're just a young couple on the beach, but the same young couple who went on to become my parents, who made me, who moulded my character, to who I owe everything that I am.

I think about these pictures a lot over the next few weeks. I think about how I'm much older now than they were at the time, and what, if anything this means. I think about how much older they are now - my dad is 60 next year - and try not to think about how frail and old they currently looked with a picture of their prime to compare to. Most of all I think about the fact that they wont be around to ask me about work, or bake me multi-grain bread forever and I vow to make more of an effort to make them happy and proud.






To Mum and Dad, I love you

Wednesday 4 June 2008

Voilà la conversation dans le camping

The memories of having a BBQ on the beach, with a sunset and friends stood around, nobody quite able to imagine quite how nice the moment is, will be the overriding memory of the trip.


There was lots of wine, of course, and several downpours that tested the smiling resolve, but certain hours in a holiday, and in your life just stand out from the rest.

The campsite was deserted, with maybe as few as 15 of the 200+ pitches taken, and 6 of those were filled by the tents we had just about managed to squeeze into our rucksacks. The beach was a 2 minute walk away, and unlike Le Grand Plage in Biarittz that we later visited, there were no other tourists around, so miles of golden sand in either direction was ours. We spent the days eating baguettes on the beach, trying out our school book French (much like Ant) that we remembered from Tricolore 1. We walked or bussed to a few different beaches and took in steaks and mussels, complete with miniature crabs, in some restaurants far too posh to be wearing sandy board shorts.


I also had my new compact camera, which when combined with my waterproof bag-type-thingy enabled me to get a few OK shots of some of the locals ripping the waves apart.


Then before long it was time to head back home to the inevitable post holiday blues, and sit in my room wondering if I should give up my job and go travelling. Writing this a few days later, I'm back in the groove and happy again, but it is slightly concerning how rapidly I flit between states of mind.

Similarly, the girl situation has become more complex. I had hoped that the Biarittz trip would consolidate or rule out things with The Twin, but neither has really happened, and for a variety of reasons I’m not sure where we stand, and if that place is even in the same country as to where we should be standing. I think my eyes have been opened to the fact that I’m probably not ready for a serious relationship – but I’m unsure as to whether that means its OK to keep seeing the Twin every two or three weeks, or if it would be a better thing to do to call time on it.

Anyway, this isn’t supposed to be a tribute blog to Adrian mole, so onwards we go. I’ve got the small matter of an Ironman-distance swim this Sunday which I feel hopelessly under prepared for, but am looking forward to seeing family and friends back in the homeland. June has arrived – not one minute shall I waste.

A Bientot.

Friday 23 May 2008

Much like my Blog: crap name, good content.

Off to see Them Is Me tonight. My cousin who used to sing in the band Reef has started writing again with the Bass player Jack. Theyve got the drummer from their final albumn, after the original guy left Reef and is now in Kubb. The guitarist has also played with lots of cool people, so heres hoping they can put some good tracks together.

Like this!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7fIDbk8--js

Ill be singing this while im on Holiday next week!

Monday 19 May 2008

Porno Pants: Episode 6

I’ve just set off on the swim and my left goggle is filling up with water. I swear at the goggle for leaking and at myself for risking changing the lens before the start. I do a length with my eye shut and wonder if I can carry on like this- its only 12 more lengths to go. Then the goggle becomes completely full and looses all semblance of suction with my eye socket. They come off my face but are held onto my head by the grey swimming hat im wearing. Soon the drag of the goggles pulls my hat off and I have to grab them both with my right hand. I try to swim with them in a clenched fist, but it doesnt work so I have to try and open open a few fingers to get some grip on the passing water.

It is not going to be a good day.

About 18 mins later and, ive made it out onto the bike leg. I’ve been cornering well and have overtaken a few guys just by not breaking so much on the bends. I go down a steep hill and see a yellow ‘Caution Cyclists! Bend’ sign some way before the bottom. I slow down and easily make it around a modest corner, and curse the organisers for warning me, slowing me down, for a nonexistent danger. A few more K’s past and I am hooning it downhill again. A ‘Caution Cyclists! Bend’ sign flashes past, and I half heartedly apply a little pressure to the brake. Then, all of a sudden, there is a very sharp bend. I force the break-pads onto the front rim, and begin to slow down, but with every turn of the wheel I am getting closer and closer to the verge. When I reach the apex of the corner my brain has made some complex calculations based around the rate at which im approaching the verge, the curve of the corner and the rate at which I’m decelerating. It has come up with the conclusion that im fucked. I get an unfamiliar sense of resignation to my fate, and I close my eyes and brace for what is about to happen.

I open my eyes and Im laying on my back, in a ditch, my head facing up the hill. I hear a groan while I wait for my senses to deliver a damage report. Nothing comes in. I stand up, see my bike lying in the road about 5 metres away, and suddenly panic that there will be other cyclists coming down the hill wanting to use the bit of road that my bike currently occupies. I walk out and get my bike, which seems, much like my legs, to be in good working order. I feel my left shoulder, which has a slight ache, and my hand returns with a few thin lines of blood on its palm, but nothing major. I decide to carry on, so clip into the pedals, wonder how they became unclipped in the crash, and pedal on up the road. Two cyclists overtake me, and I start removing bits of grass and mud from my brake levers, water bottle holder – my water bottle is missing – and front derailleur.


(My shoulder grazes this morning)

Another 10KM done now. I’m not hurt from the crash but my brain whirrs through the possibilities of what might have happened. The adrenaline in my system and gratefulness for another chance to race combine to give me extra momentum and I force the pedals round and round, zooming along the flat. The final hill looms large in front of me and I grit my teeth as I get out of the saddle to get it over and done with. Then disaster. A horrible "CRACK" and I look down to see my rear derailleur and chain having an untidy party where they shouldnt be in amongst my back wheel.

Fuck.

Fuck fucking fuck.

I get off and have a closer look. There is no hope - the rear mech has snapped in two.

(My rear mech this morning)

I try to push the bike, but it won’t even roll along because of the chain in the wheel. I can’t run in my cycling shoes, so take them off and clip them into the pedals. Then I put my bike on my shoulder and run up the hill. I get to the top and realise my bare feet are hurting from the tarmac, and I ask some spectators how far they think it is to the finish. The general consensus seems to be 5 miles, which I consider running with my bike, but my bare feet, and the state they’d be in for next weekend’s Half marathon make me realise my race is over. I swear again, not wanting to concede defeat and sit on a wall, deflated. A spectator offers me a lift back to the start and I gratefully accept – what a generous man – thank you. He drops me off at my car which I break into (my key is in the sports centre) and put the bike in.

That leaves a 200 m walk up the road to the race transition area. As I approach, the race stewards and two policemen come running over and ask me if im ok, and if ive been mugged for my bike. I explain that Im OK and have just crashed out. They ask me where I crashed and I say on a bend at the bottom of the hill with the Caution Cyclists – Bend sign, but they don’t really catch on to my irony. I walk back through the crowds in the race village and see people tapping their friends shoulders and point at me. I look down and see im bare footed, bleeding from my back and have red scratches and grazes on my left leg and arm. I go to the organising tent and tell them what happened, then get my stuff out of transition and buy some lunch.

‘Chalk it up to experience’ my dad says later that night. And I have.

Tuesday 13 May 2008

What is right, wrong, complicated and simple?

Its difficult to say sometimes. It feels like only a few weeks ago that everything was rosy with The Twin. I made a special trip into town to buy new pants and condoms- a trip that occurred rapidly after a

"Hey are you coming down this weekend?"

"Yeah ill come Sat night and stay..?..?" conversation.

Then a few weeks later and not much is happening. The holiday to Biarittz is looming and the novelty and spark remains present, but the distance our homes are apart often makes the spark difficult to see, or at worse, even notice it is there.

Plus, there was another girl incident.

I went to a BBQ with AnnE, the new housemate, which turned out to be a good laugh, a few too many beers and a lot of things to think about. I set out to only have a couple of drinks, but quickly found myself getting through 6 cans, and AnnE began supplying me some of her bottles. Then there were a few shots, and we set out into town. AnnE had touched my shoulder a few times early on, made some eye contact during the BBQ, but at the time I put it down to her being friendly; looking after me as I didn’t know anyone there. Then the contact got more often and more obvious, leaning on me in the hallway while we waited for the others, an arm through mine as we walked into town, grabbing my hand as we entered the club. I was reasonably drunk by now, AnnE had drunk a few, and the other girls were ‘Mortal’ as the Geordie among them so amusingly described. It soon became obvious, even to me, that AnnE was directing the touching and laughing to end in a kiss. A few times she put herself right in front of me and gave me the look, but I broke away, surprised, flattered, confused. She asked me about The Twin- is she my girlfriend? I replied that she wasn't - that I wasn't sure what she is, or was. With hindsight, I should have said that yes she was, as it probably would have made it a more straightforward evening. I didn’t, of course, and the looks carried on to the point where a few times I had to kiss her on the lips then make a point of it only being a peck, with no hanging round waiting for tongues. The dancing and flirting continued and reached a point where I thought I have to either kiss her or tell her not to do it anymore. I pulled her off the dance floor and said something along the lines of,

"I really like you, and part of me wants to go for it, but there are some reasons why me and you kissing here in Jesters (the nightclub- rough as a bag of spanners) tonight is not a good idea. I’d really like to kiss you now (pause, smile) but I don’t think it’s a good idea. We live together, and I’m not really sure where I stand with The Twin, or what’s right and wrong here."

(if only there was a transcript of what actually came out of my mouth so I could compare!)

She seemed fine with this, and although probably a bit embarrassed, a weight of expectation was lifted from us and left us to enjoy the night a bit more. We danced to The Killers, drank a few more, had some banter with the locals and watched from the sidelines as her friends got tagged by the young guns of Union Street. Then we were walking home, holding hands. Then she pulled my hand and arm up around her shoulder. At home we sat on the balcony for a bit and I threw a prowling cat some dog biscuits. There were plenty more opportunities for a kiss, we were close and comfortably so. The boundaries becoming blurred once again. I thought in my head that I still didn’t think anything should happen, so I stretched a bedtime yawn and headed upstairs. She came over for a last hug before bed, and I gave her another brief kiss on the lips, not letting anything more happen. It was goodnight, then the next thing I knew I was awake with a hangover that bent my spine.

My other housemate, DPsyc, and me were heading out at midday to watch the start of the Artemis Transat - a single handed sailing race from here to Boston. AnnE had been out playing squash, but joined us later and there was a slight awkwardness as she came over and sat down. I asked her if she had made it up for squash, even though I already knew that she had. She confirmed what I already knew, and said she wasn’t hung over, just tired. I’m not sure if she means to include the extra meaning included in this statement.

I decided not to tell DPsyc about the nights events, as I’m not entirely sure what he’ll make of them, and maybe AnnE would feel better without me gossiping. I don’t feel like I’ve done anything wrong - in fact I'm quite pleased with myself for both having a girl like AnnE throw herself at me, and for me doing the ‘right’, or if not, sensible thing of not sleeping with her. Later in the evening we sat down and watch Indiana Jones cheese it up in the Temple of Doom, but there is no mention of the previous evening's activities.

There has been complete radio silence with The Twin for 6 days, which does leave me with a lot to think about.

I think I did the right thing. But you never really know until hindsight has taken a good look, do you?

Thursday 8 May 2008

I went out looking for prawns and came home looking like a lobster

So yeah, I did the classic British thing of losing the T-shirt at the slightest sign of sun and got roasted. Good fun day; catching prawns for my friend’s project, lunch on the beach and a quick snorkel. It was a shame the water was still a tad nippy for comfortable head holding under, but i did manage to see my first ever Greater Pipefish in the wild, which was a surprise as I thought they were a bit more tropical. They look like a seahorse that someone has straightened out:



I need aftersun.

Tuesday 6 May 2008

Fun in the Sun

I haven’t ridden my bike in anger since the Plymouth Triathlon all those months ago. The tyres still have a mud coating from that day which reminds me of the wind and rain that howled past my ears on that so-called summer day of July last year.
A late entry to the Taunton Triathlon in two weeks, and a few more race entries for June and July have pushed the motivation to train on my bike up higher than the level of continuing the Band of Brothers marathon I was enjoying 40 minutes ago. I pump up my tyres, fix a hand pump to the frame and throw a spare tube, some pound coins and a nutri-grain in my little bag that sits under my saddle. I take the front door key off my bunch and wrestle the bike down the stairs, through the doors and out onto the street.

I’ve never really been a natural on the bike. When I lived in Lancaster I once vowed to do a whole year of riding to work, and managed it, often swearing under my breath the whole way in as I battled the rain, snow and howling wind. That year of riding at least five times a week definitely made me feel stronger going up hills, but in races I’ve never felt confident I can compete as well on two wheels as I can in the swim and the run. On days like to today though those competitive thoughts get left behind, and I settle into the saddle, enjoy the sun and cool air and let the smiles take over I as eat up the concrete. I catch the ferry over to Cornwall and set off up a huge hill which doesn’t reach the top of the local land until 15Ks are showing on my computer. I pedal round this clifftop road for a bit and stop once or twice to take in the view of Whitsand Bay and Mount Edgecombe. My thighs ache with the new strain put on them, but I feel alive and enjoy the hurting. Eventually I feel the need for speed and head off in direction of the downhill. My destination, the sea and ferry is visible way out in front of me, all bathed in glorious May sunshine. I race downhill trying to push the numbers on the computer up above 60 km/h. On a steep open section, where I can see there are no cars or corners coming up, I get them up above 70km/h - genuinely exciting stuff - and I try not to think about what would happen if I fell off.

I get back on the flat and quickly after that back to the flat, put my bike in the dining room and wobble upstairs to change. I put on some running shorts and trainers and hobble downstairs and try to get into a jog. My legs are still in cycling mode, so it’s hard to get a long, straight stride going as my muscles still want to go round in crank sized circles. After a few Ks they’re just about being normal again and I head back home.

Really enjoyable day out in the sun. It feels like summer already. Tomorrow I’m making the most of my job and having a fieldwork day at the beach. Life is once again sweet!

Wednesday 26 March 2008

Yey (4 weeks after) Easter

So the Blog has been neglected of late. I got invited to write a bit for a book chapter at work, so have been making my head hurt by working long days and nights, trying to make sense of the piles of books and papers from the 1980s on my desk. It is just about done though now, so I'm back doing a Friday afternoon post. (The chapter title, just in case you're interested is dangerously specific and boring, but includes something about fish mucus and its role in osmoregulation. A friend quite accurately pointed out that its one thing I should never bring up at a speed dating night -should I ever go one one.

I have partially written two posts that will now never see the light of day. The only one of note was about the Easter trip (Easter!? yes it was that long ago!) where I made some comparisons between last years trip and this years, and further more about my life becoming a series of annually repeated events. I did take the time to upload some photos of the south Devon coast, which I may as well keep in...

A rainbow:


The bay from Start point:


Start point lighthouse:


...which were all very nice. Otherwise there has been entry to some good multi sport races, a lot of running, then a knee injury, then a lot of swimming and now a chlorine allergy.

Overall post report:
C- must do better

Better is on the way

Monday 17 March 2008

Bird, Hand, Bush, etc

I sprint through the car park rain and then laugh with the reception girl about how heavy the downpour has been. I scan the room and see the familiar faces are at the bar. On my way over I notice that everyone is wearing a suit and am glad I decided to dust off the Vietnamese silk and do the same. My friends see me coming and wait, expectantly. The recognition of their faces washes a recollection of my previous life over my senses. I get memories of previous laughs and achievements, and think back gratefully for fate giving me the chance to become friends with the faces I see before me now. Its fantastic. There are a few handshakes and a few nods, lots of smiles. The conversation begins a little formally but soon slips through the whats and whens of current work and finds its way into a pile of giggles and previous stories. Over the next 9 hours we have canapés, lunch and dinner, all washed down by drinks supplied by the free bar. I laugh so hard my eyes water, we make promises to arrange more meetings over the summer and take turns to talk our way down the paths our lives have taken since we all lived in that city up north.

At 9.30 its time for me to make my goodbyes. I’m sad to leave prematurely, but the group is beginning to fragment and sleep, alcohol, or both, has a strong grip on the remaining members. I drive off into the rain that has not relented all day, but my mind is not yet preparing for sleep. A random set of texts has made my destination a bar in town where LEA is out with some friends and has invited me to pop in to say hi on my way home. This is the first time I’ve seen her without the presence of our mutual friend, which adds an edge of trepidation as I park the car and run through the rain and shrieks of the city. I’m not entirely sure what I’m doing here, not sure what I want, or expect from this meeting, but my presence here is undeniable. I fear for a moment that the bouncer has not taken a shine to my overdressed attire, but a slight nod beckons me past a group who are in a vocal dispute with the cashier.

LEA is, as always, exceptionally friendly and seems glad to see me. We talk, flirt a bit, occasionally bordering into quite a lot, but my soberness remains in charge. After 2 drinks I say I’ve got to leave and I hug goodbyes to the group. LEA gets her farewell hug, but before I leave she says she is walking me to the door. Now we are on our own with another hug and a kiss on the cheek but the hug remains in place longer than it might. We have a brief conversation about the coming weekends Easter trip and another kiss. This one lands half on lips, half on cheek, and like the hug before it, also lingers for a moment longer than was originally scheduled. In my head I was going for the cheek again, but may have got drawn slightly off course by some gravity-laden eyes. This is dangerous ground. I pull away and pretend I hadn’t just read anything into what had happened.

Now i’m running in the rain for the third time today. I’ve got to get home and sleep before the Bath Half Marathon tomorrow but my mind runs a blur with what I could Vs should have done earlier on. At half midnightish I get a text that I expect to be from LEA, but turns out to be from the Twin saying shes drunk and is wishing me luck for the race.

Decisions.

Sunday 9 March 2008

I have finished...

...downloading and watching Prison Break. Its worth a watch, but is no 24. I have become slightly frustrated by the fact that the writers’ strike in the US has stopped both Prison Break and Heroes in mid series. I always assumed (quite naively, admittedly) that the writers would write the scripts for the whole series before they started filming. The reality seems to be that they write it on the hoof, giving them the flexibility to kill off old, and bring in new characters as the ratings demand.

...all the hard training for the Bath Half Marathon this Sunday. Just a few sprint intervals to do this week and I’m good for another go at getting under the magic 1h30mins.

...giving my first lecture. 10 years ago I was an undergrad in the same lecture hall. Last Weds I was teaching at the front. A nice moment.

...a year of blogging. Probably a month or so more in truth, but I was definitely in Hong Kong this time last year and remember writing about it, so I’ve made it through a whole year. Go me.

...over analysing what is happening / going to happen with the Twin and am just trying to enjoy what does and does not happen. ‘Date’ #4 last weekend of a slowly developing, but at least partially promising ‘relationship’.

...hoping that I will get someone into my room before the end of the month. The flat by the sea has worked out, but at the cost of two weeks with both rents. Thinking back I seem to remember saying that id happily do this if we got to live there so I guess I will get over it. The room mate hunt worked well to get a very promising 'random' into the flat, but has so far been unsuccessful in getting someone to take over my room at H-Bombs.

...laughing at Bristol Rovers 5-1 defeat to West Brom in the FA Cup. Just.

...this post.