To go anywhere that I please

Who am I?

Ha, you weren’t expecting that were you? I was always a fan of Jean-Paul Sartre, perhaps the finest exponent of existentialism. But not the only one. So (that’s for you Stuart), what is it to exist? Back in my formative decade, the eighties, there was much talk of the dignity of labour, and how work defined so many of our existences. Much concern too, that with mass unemployment amongst the predominantly male workforce we were about to have a crisis in the heads of millions of men.

I could do that.

Of course like any self-obsessed teenage (and beyond), I’ve had my moments. A few of them in the last three weeks as I balance the rational, logical business decisions with my own feelings of hopelessness and despair. I pulled myself together, don’t worry, and now I’m fine.

Don’t make a fuss.

Anyway, the lockdown is fraying, like that gear cable you look at and think, umm, not today, maybe when I get back, or on Sunday. And then one day, you pull on the brake and....nothing, and you wish, oh you wish. Today, out on my officially-allowed exercise I saw the following:

- A group of nine or ten men gathered around a table in Axbridge, pretending to social-distance (what a shit verb), whilst really they were there for a drink and a knees-up

- Quite a few conversations on doorsteps where again people were pretending to keep a safe distance, but really they’d just popped round for a chat

- Motorbikers in groups of 3-4+, with no panniers, boxes or rucksacks. They may have had medical appointments, but they sure weren’t going shopping

- Picnics. Quite a few of these, people parked up roadside chomping away

- Young people. Now I understand if you are 17 (I still do remember, no matter what Junior thinks) being apart from your mates is hard, being apart from your boyfriend/girlfriend is actually the end of the world. A lot of that.

There was more. It’s OK though, clapping and positivity can cure all ills, make up for the lack of testing, PPE and a plan for the relaxing of restrictions without catastrophic economic meltdown. Yeah, too much politics and not enough basic competence. 

So who am I?

Haven’t you worked it out yet? 

People.

And there are  too many pictures to post of the wheels I have followed over the years, great friends, colleagues, fellow travellers and strangers I have met on trains. Somewhere deep inside, you must know I miss you.

For all of those reasons I know that in a couple of years all that feeling of togetherness, Captain Tom, we’re all in this together and enjoying the stillness of the car-free roads, will be but a vague and distant memory. What matters then?

Your values, your compass and your ethics. Believe in a higher power if you want to. But draw on your DNA, those closest to you and your integrity. You don’t need to be able to go to the pub to be free. Or even to debate the regulations and how they affect the distance you can or can’t cycle. You are as free as you decide to be.

Never quite as it seems

Are you losing track of what happened when? I know I am. Junior asked me today when I last shaved and I had to resort to looking at a calendar, figuring what had happened when, the last day I was actually in a real office, to be able to answer. I still don’t know if I was right. Anyway, in case you are bored of boredom, and also fed up with Gary Barlow, and other tedious forms of entertainment, here is my quick guide to Lockdown 2020. In no particular order

Work. I don’t really miss the real office. Unlike the virtual one I’ve been inhabiting for the last whatever. I have just the right amount of social contact and have found my job to be easily doable from home. Meanwhile, it’s all be going on for ‘so long’ that people are already talking about creating better worlds, and the new normal. Like I said, whatever, never mind. I can’t see it happening, I think people have very short memories and will revert to type soon enough.

Music. I’m late to the Spotify party but it’s been a godsend. Just like the virus supposedly. Only more heart-warming. I’ve trawled musical memories and on the walks I’ve taken in the hills and woods that surround my house, I’ve delved into the musical memories, as well as allowing the playlist suggestions to take me to wonderful new places.

Roads. Largely devoid of cars, they have become a true joy to cycle on, if you can avoid the few maniacs who feel they’ve been given some kind of licence that permits excessive speed and driving straight out of a Bond movie. It does get a bit mind-numbing to cycle all these lovely routes and roads on my own, but as we have also been blessed with an abundance of dry weather, I’m not complaining.

More Work. More of it that I can handle. Which is unfortunate as I am now only officially working for three days a week, but it’s amazing how quickly we can all adapt to working without actually being in the same physical place. I suppose we just need to be on the same page or ballpark, albeit two metres apart. But I’m a fortunate son, as I have a job still, for which I am very grateful. If I can do things I like, put bread, or crisps or cream eggs on the table, that’s what matters. 

Facial hair. As mentioned earlier, it’s been about a month. My stated aim at the beginning was to look like a Viking. But actually, as my brain meandered into thoughts of head tattoos and eyebrow-shaving, I was reminded by a friend that it’s really a mixture of boredom and rebellion. A dangerous combination and all too true. It would also make a good album title.

Americans. I haven’t seen my cousins from Oklahoma in quite a few years. Decades actually. But we still exchange messages and the like. In the new normal, virtual way. They, at least, all seem to have their heads screwed on. But some of their fellow Americans, well, I look at the news of demonstrations against lockdown and wonder how they actually became top nation. I saw news that there had been  no school shooting in March, in the USA, the first month that was true since 2002. So I fact-checked it, and aside from a variable around how these things are recorded, it wasn’t true. Because there were eight school shootings in March 2020. Plus ca change and all that.

Virus. Pretty sure I had it back in late March. Classic symptoms, very easily shared with family despite attempts to isolate in the house -how ridiculous is that exhortation - and all passed “mildly” in a little over two weeks. Except we don’t know for sure, because there’s no testing, of either the antibodies, or the infection at the time. I’m not going to the political place now, but if you know me, you’ll know what I think. Where is it going to end? You need to ask? I am pretty certain of one thing, it’s going to be bumpy for quite a while, so I hope we can hold onto the kindness epidemic.

Books. A lot of Julian Barnes, I just love both his style and his substance. I’ve have a trawl of lots of cycling stuff as you’d expect and a surprising journey through early 20th century Irish history (Like I said, plus ca change). Late to the party, but catching up quickly is some general philosophy reference material - I was on a recap of Virtue Ethics tonight. I wonder what a book would look like with all four elements combined. Don’t write in.

I have no insights today, no hackneyed exhortations. Just the best version of my song of the moment. Take care of yourself and those around you. Be generous.

Let's fast forward to a few years later

I'm not going out for exercise tonight. I've been doing low-level intensity stuff for most of the last week, and I need a bit of a break. Slobbing on the sofa, that kind of thing.

Anyway, I have something to say, even if I can't say it. Even if no one is listening.

By all accounts, this is the biggest medical, social and economic shock to our society ever. Well, if you believe that you have no concept of history. I dare say that there were a few people around in 1348 who if they were still around now might argue the toss with you. But I get the point.

In recent memory anyway. Which means the last fifty years. Or eighty at a push. Maybe even 95 if you are being particularly obtuse. But the central point of my point is that in all the clapping, the crappy videos, (and yes, I know I'm as guilty as anyone), and the self-congratulatory emails about adaptability and the like, we seem to have lost sight of something.

We've forgotten how to be human. I know I have. The truth is that bad things happen and we get through them. Sometimes we make a fuss, and sometimes we don't. Whilst it is true that the NHS workers are doing a wonderful job, so is the bin man who goes out collecting our rubbish, not knowing if it's covered in virus particles. No one claps him at 8 o'clock on a Thursday night.

The woman in the Co-op serving her customers, with the risk one of them will sneeze all over her. The supermarket shelf-stacker, toiling away at all hours of the night so you can go and get more toilet roll. Or even the local council apparatchik, bravely sat in the corner of his spare bedroom, plodding away at his laptop, not knowing if his employers are going to make him redundant tomorrow.

I've been amazed at how quick some people are to judge, criticise and demonise the actions of their fellow citizens. Maybe everyone could do with a little bit more understanding now. More listening. There are encouraging signs, but we are not there yet. If there is really going to be something good to come out of all of this, I hope it's that.

The truth is, life is difficult for everyone right now, and all of us are doing our best to make sense of it, in whatever way we can. My way is Netflix and music. Occasional exercise, to the degree I'm allowed. Yours may be something else.

But if ever there was a case for not judging, it's now.

Enjoy your evening. Thanks for listening. Oh, and keep your hands clean.

Easy for you to say

Cycling and aggression seem to go hand in hand in the UK these days. I ride to work about once a week, and it's a rare commute that does not involve someone driving aggressively around me, or more usually casting some casual abuse in my direction.

But occasionally some interactions with the motoring public almost defy description and analysis. These was one, last Friday, that left me more befuddled than annoyed, and for once, there was no outright aggression. This time it was wrapped in a not-so-invisible cloak of passivity.

I was riding home from work, through a village called Nailsea. For once I was on a well-lit, quiet street, with few parked cars, two carriageways and (shock) a smooth surface. Topically, and topically, I was ablaze with lights like the proverbial Christmas tree, with lights, reflectives and hi-viz galore about me.

My on-bike Garmin sat-nav was doing glitchy things, so I pulled over into the side of the road, under a lamppost (for illumination), but also to make myself extra visible, to sort it out. The road was residential and quiet (Whiteoak Way if you want to look it up), and quietly fettled. A couple of minutes, and a couple of cars, had passed, before one drew up behind me and honked on her horn. I looked up, saw the whole road was clear, and gestured her to use the empty space on the other side of the road.

She pulled up alongside me, wound down the passenger window, and the conversation went like this.

"When I beeped you, there was a van coming the other way, and I couldn't get through"

"Well it's clear now"

"But I couldn't get through with you there"

"Well just wait then"

"But I have somewhere to be, I need to get somewhere to get to urgently"

"Well, you're wasting more time now talking to me"

"But I'm being very polite"

"Yes, and so am I"

"But someone might run into the back of you"

"I don't see why they should, you didn't! I'm well-lit, in a very visible place, there's plenty of room to pass..."

It was at that point that her time-pressure must have overwhelmed her and she drove off.

This interaction left me perplexed for days, and I chatted it through with a few people, all of whom had interesting perspectives on it. Maybe she'd had a bad day, and I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe I was looking at the situation differently to her, you'll find a lot of people who will say I should have got onto the pavement, which to be fair I could have done.

But in the end, whether the aggression was active or passive, it was still there, and it came, in my opinion, from a sense of entitlement. As in "this is my road, not yours, you get out of my way". It's something I think we have more and more of in our culture. Not just on the roads, although it's pretty bad there. But in many of our interactions, in shops, workplaces, and most prevalent of all, in our political discourse.

An expectation of our "rights", then drives all kinds of horrible behaviour, whether it be passive-aggressive, shouty trumpeting of self-righteousness, smug gloating about getting one over on others, or outright aggression and violence. All driven from this believe that if my rights are being challenged, someone else should be on the receiving end.

By contrast. Christmas Eve, cycling home (no Chris Rea jokes please), through Dark Lane in Sandford. A car driver patiently waited to pass me where most don't, until the road opened up and the way was clear. The car drove alongside and the window was wound down, and the woman in the passenger seat, exclaimed to me "Merry Christmas". So it is possible. Better.

A new decade is coming next week, my seventh. One that always seemed so far away. I'm not saying I always react in the way I'm preaching about here. But I'm going to do my best to do so from now on. Put me straight please if you see me displaying a sense of that entitlement, and not enough kindness, empathy and understanding. Our roads all lead to the same place and I believe we would be better off if we all realised that a bit more, and turned our paths away from the road we are on now. It's not a nice journey.

Enjoy your road.

 

 

Take me to that other place

I used to laugh at those circulars you get this time of year. The ones that attempt to tell you all about how much better other people's lives are than yours, but don't. What else is a blogger's end of year post but that?

Anyway, in times like these there's no real need for any of that. Most of us are so narcissistic that all of our witty. clever, erudite lives are all over various forms of social media. Believe me, no one is listening. So let me be quite clear, to quote one of our recent clutch of Prime Ministers, I'm doing this for me. Prime Ministers are like West Ham managers. They used to last for ages and now they come along faster than London buses.

I've been ill a lot this year. So fewer (thanks Stannis) kilometres on the bike than for many a year. But what with Everything that has happened around all of that, I'm feeling very optimistic about my cycling for 2020. I think I may have finally have kicked the habit of kilometres for kilometres sake, and the gym work I've been doing seems to be paying real dividends in terms of the metrics.

But. It's still about Joy. It has to be. I have won the lottery of life to be fair. Born at the right time in the right circumstances with a lot to be thankful for. As I'm fond of reminding people, none of us are going to live forever, I've had a pretty good life so far, and the overall quality, if not the elasticity of my face's collagen, seems to be going up.

I know that for many, many people life is tough, unfair, a struggle, sad, depressing, achingly lonely. I count my blessings. I also know that by and large, most people are doing their best to be kind, friendly and decent.

With the demise of Game of Thrones this year, it's hard to find heroes. But we actually don't need them. There is more that unites us than divides us, if you want to be. As a wise woman once said to me, "do you want to make a difference or just a point?"

And if Game of Thrones teaches us anything, it's that Dragons and big armies don't win you love or kingdoms in the end. So as an even wiser woman said to me, "Be Generous", because if you want it to be, every day can be a beautiful one.

Merry Christmas

Progress

For once a story about cycling, which I will get to in a bit. First, some context, which may not seem related, but, well, you know me...

If you are a regular reader you may have noticed I've upped my volume of writing of late. This is partly due to the fact that I am about to change jobs. Next week in fact is the official start date for my new one. With my son finishing his A levels, and other family changes, it has turned into the Mother of all transition periods, and the most recent posts have really been all about those. But this one, well, it will be about cycling.

If you've read this blog before you will know I had whooping cough in the late Winter and early Spring. It was an arse and I didn't really exercise for the best part of two and a bit months. Since I've got back on the bike, I have not ridden anything like the typical mileage I have done in previous years, and have lacked a bit of oomph for all sorts of reasons.

I hadn't factored in just how much fitness and strength I would lose, and I'm still not fully sure how much its caused by the remnants and ravages of the infection, and how much by the absence of work, and lack of application since I came back to the road.

There is one thing in particular that had started to become a bit of a thorn in my psychological side. I have yet to ride over 100 miles in one go this calendar year, something that is even more remarkable given the focus I placed on getting my Edington number up to a 100 a couple of years back. Most recent years I usually have turned in 15-20 century rides, so even more of an impact on my lack of fitness.

I've had a few near misses, a few bail-outs and last Saturday, a broken spoke from Martyn's rear wheel and a shortage of time meant we aborted almost before we got started. As I am in between days, having a week's holiday to break the two jobs apart, this week presented the ideal opportunity to have a crack at it, with no distractions.

More that that, the omens could not have been more heartening. A high-pressure system ushered in a warm spell of weather over the country, slap bang in the middle of my break, and the Tuesday offered up warm, but not unduly hot temperatures, with virtually no wind. More than that, I actually had a destination to get too. THe wildflowers near Stogumber are at the end of their time, and it was now or never for 2019. A round trip there could easily be made into a great century ride, with a bit of challenge of the QUantocks and Brendons thrown in.

To cap it all, it was a rest day on the Tour, I had little else to distract me, and I knew the weather would not last the week. It simply had to be done. And done on my own, with no distractions, much as I love cycling with my mates I could do this at my own pace, without worrying about when or for how long I stopped.

So 0830 I was off, down the hill towards the hills. But before I could get to them, I had to navigate the early morning traffic of the A38. And outside one or two schools, and a certain amount of grumpiness. But once that was out of the way, I bumbled along back lanes of the levels, weaving around to make the miles up and heading for my favourite cycle path. The one that takes you under the A39 to Bawdrip. I don't know why I love it so much, but on Tuesday it was especially lovely. As were the cheerful dog-walkers and others I passed on my way.

Bawdrip cycle path

The one downside of the ride (two if you count the return journey) was having to navigate Bridgwater. I tried to find away through a different part of town, but got lost, and ended up on the A39 anyway, so that didn't work. But once out into the country, the day continued on its lovely way. With one exception. The lorries. The Cannington area has become a route to one of the largest construction sites in Europe at the moment. It's a source on never-ending bemusement to me as a cyclist that we are building another nuclear power plant. I've just watched the series "Chernobyl", I know it was a drama, but it didn't exactly end well. As someone who knows how many headwinds we have out on the levels, surely wind turbines would be better?

After a quick diversion for the picture above (taken from afar), I had to get back on the main road to cross the Quantocks. I elected to take the easier but busier route through St Audries, but this did mean putting up with the traffic. There are a couple of steep bits, but I was generally able to keep up a good speed, especially on the downhills, so what is it that makes all those people overtake me, despite the solid double white lines on that stretch? There must have been about 3 near misses where impatience nearly caused an RTC with the oncoming.

Section 129 of the Highway code if you're interested. Backed up by Road traffic act 1988 section 36 and TSRGD regulations 10 & 26. You can quote me!

After a quite stop for a snack, in the very pleasant churchyard at Williton, it was onto Washford and onto the climb up to the wildflowers. You can read all about the fundraising here.

I could have stayed there all day, but contented myself with a brief rest after the climb, some snaps and taking in the marvellous views. The flowers will be back I'm sure next year. But until then, here's a sample of some of my pictures.



 

 



Lunchtime was now approaching so I pushed on down the undulating road to Wiviliscombe, which is an interesting place. You'll have to go there yourself to find out what I mean. I contented myself with a sandwich and drink from the Co-op, eaten on a bench in the small square, let's just say all the usual characters were on show!

 

After that it was on down to the base of the Quantocks at Bishop's Lydeard, before skirting around to Kingston St Mary and up the delightful valley and climb to the Pines café. Where for once, I received a friendly welcome and some much needed fluids. By now it was getting quite hot and I was tiring as well as very, very thirsty.

 

View from the Pines

 

A quick scoot down Enmore, through THAT place again, and back up the Bawdrip path. It was now seriously hot and I'd run out of water, so I headed for Wedmore to take advantage of the village shop, and my last stop of the day, for an ice cream! Only seven miles home and I'd done it. My first century of 2019!

 

So now my time of transition is at an end. I even have a plan. For getting fit I mean, the work plan will be done on Sunday night (only joking, really). Of course, this blog only ever uses cycling as a device to give me an outlet to get stuff out of my head so that I can move on. Which I am fully intending to do, there are lots of very exciting times coming along. I feel this week I have used one of my core competences to slay a growing monster.

 

A bit dramatic? Yes.

 

An exaggeration? Naturally, you wouldn't expect anything else.

 

But to all the pretenders and blaggers out there, the would-be tyrants and despots, remember this. I am not going gently into the night, and I never, ever, ever, give up.

 

Was this about cycling? You decide.



There is a light

Back in September 2018 I wrote this. It was superficially about cycling. But of course, as a friend said to me this week, my blog posts are full of coded messages and hidden meanings.

Mostly directed at, and hidden from, myself.

But it turns out my prediction was right. Something bigger has come along. My brilliant job in a great organisation turned out to have less lustre and grace than I realised, and a new professional challenge has come along to tempt me away. Before you ask, yes, a gold guitar is involved, as well as bright lights right in front of me. But as it turns out, I've been waiting to get home a long time.

Whisper this very, very quietly, I've found a friend to lend a hand to in return for grace. So I'm not letting it get away. Even if that doesn't ring true. So I'm off to pastures new.

Always the second chorus. Because I'm not a hopeless case.

I told a few of my cycling friends I was changing jobs, and told them it was for a fresh challenge. One, a Scouser obviously, said "what the bloody hell do you want to do that for?". Empathic lot.

It will be a wrench to leave behind so many great colleagues, but in this day and age you are only an insta or tweet away. You can't hold onto every little thing so tightly. In any case, my new base is about four minutes from my old one. So we have no excuses, if you don't keep in touch it's because you didn't want it that much anyway.

It's a new job, almost invented for me, so I'm packing a suitcase for somewhere none of us has ever been. It has been a wonderful eight years. But I've got to leave it behind.

Someone at my current place mentioned that it was the end of an era. Which is troubling. Sounds like someone old is now past it. Which is definitely not true.  That said, big and fragile as my ego is, not even I'm irreplaceable. No, I mean it.

Coming up in September I'm off to Bretagne to cycle a few byways with Monmarduman himself. Taking the ferry again, with the ship that stole my heart away. Overnight, in the darkness. On the cycling front it's been a quiet and somewhat frustrating year. But I have embers glowing for 2020, ready to turn into a conflagration. If you think you're done, you've just begun.

 

Because there is a light, don't let it go out

 

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