World turned Upside down

There’s not much cycling in this one either, but next time, I promise!

It’s been quite a month.

Obviously, the roller coaster of the relegation battle, now successfully, if somewhat anti-climatically concluded. We are clearly a good team, we took all six points off the Blue Filth, and four from Salford United. But most of the time the team looked like they couldn’t be arsed. But I’m really not complaining.

I know there’s all this COVID stuff going on too. I have watched the news when I couldn’t avoid it. In fact, I am watching it ever more closely now Spain has been cut off again. I, naturally, the voice of doom (as my kid brother rightly labelled me yesterday) was very pessimistic about our chances of cycling in the Cevennes in September, until abracadabra all the countries Johnson liked suddenly became just fine to travel to. I was, no am, getting all excited again, with books about Camisards, and maps of new landscapes being pored over.

Now I’m wondering if it’s going to happen again. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst. Just like being a West Ham fan, so I’ve lots of practice.

Then there are all these masks to be worn. I first thought this might be a good look.

But then someone made the comment that it looked kind of “Creggan estate” circa 1975. So instead I’ve gone with the standard white low-grade builders, with nose piece. Still gets the glasses steamed up, but less controversial.

Back in the Autumn of last year, I finally had confirmed what I thought I knew already, namely that I have some hearing loss. About 35% in fact, no doubt genetic and age-related. But is was the spur to investigate hearing aids, and enable myself to actually hear the shouted instructions from other parts of the house. My first attempt were vanity-related in-ear buds. Looked great, and I could hear very well but unfortunately gave my ear canals eczema. For I am a sensitive soul, with many allergies.

With masks becoming ubiquitous, I could hear even less, especially as all people under 35 seem to be mumbling all the time. But with lockdown over, if you keep Two metres apart in your social bubble, with social distancing, using common sense, or one-metre plus in pubs as long as it’s less than four hours and pay contactless, in a one-way system, and make sure the mask covers your nose, I resolved to get some hearing aids I could actually use.

Phonak - remember them? Turns out they weren’t just a cycling team with a slightly dubious reputation (didn’t they all?), they make hearing aids. With hands-free Bluetooth and a lifetime guarantee. Obviously a Bono Vox one would have been perfect, but Boots Hearing Care don’t do them. Gone with Phonak instead, there’s an app too.

Actually they are great, Not only can I listen to Spotify and take phone and Zoom Calls through them, I can hear things I forgot existed. Indicators are particularly loud I have just discovered. But there are some things I still don’t want to hear. Nothing political, something every cyclist will understand. I’m certainly not going to ride a bike with them. I’ll hear creaks and clicks from the bike that will drive me insane.

I have already had Covid-19, confirmed by obvious symptoms back in March and a subsequent positive antibody test. I’ve been giving blood for 30 years, having recently passed 50 donations, so I fought through considerable NHS bureaucracy and intimate questionnaires about my sexual history (I kid you not) and booked an appointment to give plasma.

All was going well, During the donations, except the needle was quite big and hurt a bit as the machines did their thing Took my plasma, and returned my platelets and red cells to my veins. But something wasn’t quite right and I told one of the team I felt a bit odd, and then, bam, next thing I know I’m coming round, upside down, (as the donation “chair” had been pivoted to get blood back to my brain) and with three sets of very concerned-looking eyes looking over the tops of their masks at me.

Most likely explanation was some kind of reaction to the anti-coagulant that they use in the process. Once my lips had stopped being blue (apparently) and colour had returned to my cheeks, I was allowed to go, having managed a paltry 150 ml of plasma. Not enough for medicinal purposes, but it will be used in their research into antibodies in Covid-19. Best of intentions and lets hope for the best, while we, ...no I won’t say it.

All I was left with was this nice bruise under my scars. I don’t want to put anyone off donating plasma, it’s rare to have a reaction. My existing list of allergens is long, this is just one more thing for me to avoid, but you are unlikely to have a reaction like this. I’m looking forward positively.

To the new football season, a life of Zoom calls and less driving, and some time in deep France.

Let’s hope we get there, stay rubber-side down, and don’t need the services of the Cevennes Health service, with or without anti-coagulant.

A gold guitar

I went out for a walk last night, something I’ve been doing a lot of since the Lockdown started. Instead of the usual random choices from Spotify, this time I chose my companion. “Songs of Experience”.

“The end is not coming, the end is here”

Now I know it’s a metaphor, and I know what a lot of people think about U2. But. My brother and I often talk about what it must be like to have done your best work by the time you are 31, and know it’s almost impossible to get any better. Great for him and me, because in Achtung Baby, there is a multi-layered library of musical and lyrical completeness. Don’t bother arguing.

But. With Songs of Experience, now nearly 3 years old by the way (which in the 80s would have felt like another era, but now, just feels like yesterday), I think they’ve made their second best album.

“Every grand illusion, I would win and call it losing”.

Anyway, the walk was a short one. Just three miles around my block. Things to see beyond the sublime.

Although it was a lot greyer than that last night. But you get the general idea. Idyllic countrysideness. I also had to get back in order to torture myself by watching West Ham lose to my/our arch-rivals. Or “The Blue Filth” as I like to refer to them. I can’t write their real name, children might be reading.

And it was torture, because this was one of those rare occasions when our players could be bothered. It’s never the despair, always the hope. Which made it all so much worse. Denied a good goal by the wonders of modern technology. Went behind, unusually went in front only to predictably squander the lead. Defeat now looked certain.

But Holy Shit, wonder of wonders, a stunning move of incredible beauty, and my now favourite Ukrainian bangs in the winner.

Mayhem in the Mendip Rouleur household. 

Of course we are not safe from relegation. We’ll probably lose to Them for the next 10 times in a row. But last night that didn’t matter, for once the double had been done and someone, somewhere was as unhappy as I was happy.

Being deeply, passionately in love can never be explained. It’s a love that lasts a lifetime, from when you are five to when you are fifty-five. And beyond. It waxes, wanes, becomes more measured, involves anger, tears, frustration and loads of bad emotions too. But it will never leave me.

“If the moonlight caught you crying on Killiney Bay

Oh, sing your song

Let your song be sung

If you listen you can hear the silence say

"When you think you're done

You've just begun"

I wrote about this album nearly two years ago, peripherally when I came back from the Cent Cols. I knew change was afoot, and sure enough it has come to pass. But even as I was changing jobs last year, I never imagined all of this. 

“If there is a light

We can't always see

If there is a world

We can't always be

If there is a dark

Now we shouldn't doubt

And there is a light8

Don't let it go out”

Now. Times have been tougher. But not much for many of us in our western, privileged cocoon. But everything is relative, and a viral pandemic causing massive global misery and economic carnage is not the actual end of the world. But for many it feels close. But it needn’t be. Really.