Ten rules for cycling on ice

I rode to work yesterday, and it sure was cold. Only marginally warmer today, but it was enough to tempt me into the wilds of the country lanes around the airport. Big mistake.

Reminded me of the time back in 2006 when I dislocated my shoulder after crashing on the icy descent of Burrington Combe. The shameful part of that episode was that I was on a mountain bike at the time, still being a few months away from purchasing my first proper bike. I'm sorry, I didn't know any better then.

So I decided to invent my own Rules. You never know, they may go viral, I can start a cult internet site, people can argue if they are meant to be followed slavishly and get all high and mighty or self-righteously annoyed, and meanwhile I'll be selling spin-off (it's a good joke but you don't get it do you?) merchandise and writing a column for an arty, but little read cycling magazine.

1. If there is any hint of ice, don't go out unless you have to. And then, only in a car, preferably a Toyota 4x4. Stick to the indoor turbo trainer or Watt bike, or invent the steam engine. Yes I know it's related, that's why I put it in. Far too dangerous to ride, only a stupid person would.

Or go walking instead, but not running, which you should only do if being chased. Although I was chased by a big fuck-off dog on Sunday, fortunately I was on my bike, and it's amazing how the watts came from nowhere on a tide of instant adrenaline to double my speed before you can say Di2.

2. If you are stupid and decide to ride, make sure you go on the internet first, find the routes that your local authority purports to grit and only cycle on them. Keep everything crossed though as there is a fair probability that you'll crash anyway. But only an idiot cycles on unsalted roads.

If they are gritted, the salt will wreck your drive-train and all other steel-based parts, particularly if it's wet or muddy too.

3. If you are an idiot and insist on taking to the back roads make sure you only cycle on those that are very straight. The Romans knew that turning the handle bars of a road bike to go around icy corners leads to a tumble. Which is why all their roads are straight.

4. If you find yourself on an icy road, never ever use the brakes, unless you want to wreck your collar bones, or work on developing new rotator cuffs.

5. Do not go downhill. At all. You will soon start to glide over the ice at speeds that even Cav can only dream of, and find yourself in an over-crowded A & E department if you are lucky. If unlucky, you will soon find out if there is or isn't life after death.

6. Do not attempt to cycle up any hills that require you to stand up and pedal. Your back wheel will soon become your front wheel, or it will just spin endlessly as you grind to a slow stop, and topple over onto the nearest Citroen Saxo.

7. If cycling in the dark, make sure you switch off your lights. Otherwise the illuminated ice will either dazzle you, causing a disorientating crash, or else the sight of all that sheet ice will induce such panic in you that the resulting triple salco will make T & D look like novices in the sadly-defunct ice rinks.

8. If you do find yourself falling over, make sure you relax. Try thinking of all the time off work you are going to get, or else the new cycling gear to replace that which will shortly be torn or smashed. Think of it as an opportunity.

9. Put on a brave face after the crash but...

10. Tell everyone you know about how much it hurt, or the damage to your bike etc. etc. Above all, point out how unavoidable it all was, how you couldn't have expected to find ice in the middle of nowhere, in the cold of a British Winter on an un-gritted road.

After all, you don't want people thinking you are a stupid idiot, you already know that. And you'll never shake that off, however much you like it.

Special

If you are a cyclist and you are feeling pleased with yourself, spare a thought for Steve Abrahams. Today while I bimbled around Somerset doing a modest 120ish km, Steve was on his way back from York. To Milton Keynes.  Which is a fuck of a long way, on a nice sunny Summer's day.

It's 227 miles.

But in January, in sub-zero temperatures, it's monumental. With the emphasis on mental. And on top of the reverse of that journey yesterday, it's Herculean. Then factor in that he's already done 3145 miles this month, and I'd say that makes him  something a bit special. More special than you. And even more special than me, and, like all bloggers, I'm pretty special.

And he plans to keep going as he hopes to beat Tommy's record.

If he does it he has got to be a shoe-in for SPOTY 2015. That would be good.

Here are some pictures from our outing to Hestercombe today.

Alan looking chuffed as he contemplates his 200 miles for the week

The best-dressed man with a ginger beard in BK Velo. And a very nice chap
 

Martyn & Trevor faffing. Jon laughing at my sensitivity to sudden noises
 

Mark Church. Misty.

Telegraph pole at sunrise.

Tim practising his scooting skills while Ray waives him on

Wellington monument from Hestercombe


A miracle happened today. Another one tomorrow. And again on Tuesday. And Wednesday.

And if you don't know what I'm talking about you are not looking hard enough.

And now for something completely different. Intelligence.

"Self-disgust is self-obsession honey, and I do as I please"

Unlike my friend Monmarduman I have almost no interest whatsoever in who reads my blog. Just like all the other egocentric, self-obsessed and totally vain inhabitants of the "me generation" that inhabit the internet. Now that is out of the way I can write what I really think.

I write it for me. I have vague pretensions that I could be a writer if I could be bothered, or unprepared to use the excuse of a busy life for a reason as to why not. It is true that I have some wonderfully creative ideas that could transform themselves into brilliantly erudite and well-written literature. But they are unlikely to be anything other than passing flights of fancy in my very imaginative mind, as I lack the discipline or attention to make it happen.

Still, the construction of most of what I write is better than about 95% of what other people blog about. I'm the best writer of people that I actually know. I'm also one of the most arrogant, but I cloak that selfishness (most of the time) in a kind of faux self-deprecation, that makes people laugh as if I'm not serious about my talent. The truth is that just like the X-factor proves that most people shouldn't be allowed near a microphone, the internet and ubiquity of blogging, proves that most people should stick to what they do best.

I also don't care if you like it or not. You are reading it after all, it's your time. I waste enough time of my life reading pointless shit on the web to know how easy it is to get sucked into it. But it won't change your life, or your cycling ability. I make jokes, I spout opinions and I argue cogent points based on real facts (now and again). But it's hardly Julian Barnes.

I did say almost. What does excite my curiosity is that people all over the world are apparently reading this. Although as far as I can see no-one from North Korea as yet. The top countries for this year are below.

The UK and the States I understand. But the Ukraine? What could be of so much interest that has drawn over 2000 page views? I did this exercise a while back and China was nowhere, but now it ranks 7th on the list, most of them fairly recently. Get a life. Or meet me at Sweets and I'll explain why a Selle Italia saddle is a must-have accessory. I am not yet a threat to the stability of your government.

But I do hope to see Tibet liberated in my lifetime.

On the cycling front it's the time of year to review accomplishments, count the achievements and make plans and set targets for the next year. But just like those round-robin letters, no-one really is that interested, if you are go to my Strava page and have a look. The only people who are interested are the competitive ones among us who say they like to see what others are up to, but are really trying to beat you.

The round robin letters are funny though. It's a long-winded way of saying one or more of the following:

1. My job is so much better than yours
2. I travel to really interesting places that you don't
3. I live vicariously, through my talented kids mainly
4. I've entered an ironman, I'm so tough

On the other hand have finally managed to exorcise the faster Holy Bible from the recesses of my depressed brain. It was a glorious time and taught me so much but it's time to move on now. In any case I thought this contribution was more enlightening. And I heard it ringing out from a concert on the same day I passed by on my best day on the bike this year. Which is nice.

But just as there are only 20 stories, all the best ideas are stolen. Including this one, and I don't want to be in trouble with those Koreans. Not yet anyway.

Merry Christmas.

"You can prove anything with facts"

Quite a few of my friends have political opinions. Most of them are just that, but it doesn't stop them spouting them as if they were true. Including me. Although I tend to be fairly intuitive with my diatribes and insights, that doesn't stop me from being right.

You can see where I'm getting this style from, can't you?

But seriously. The lies wash them down and the promises rust. Most of us instinctively distrust politicians. Why? Because our sub-conscious brains register their shifty eyes, the turn of their heads or downcast and sidelong glances when they are telling us lies, mis-truths or omissions.

Rhetoric and spin my friends, a diet our screens and airwaves cram down our willing and oblivious throats, and we are all too happy to shrug and move on with cries of "they're all a bunch of charlatans, but what can you do?"

I was thinking about the deficit today. Not that exciting as a source of amusement, but what I was mostly thinking about was that our TV experts really understand very little. That's because they are reading most of it, and my subconscious recognises when someone is talking to me like I'm an idiot. But my conscious "I used to work on the front-line of middle class goes south in the early 90s recession south-east London banking personal debt crisis" brain also knows its stuff.

So I know a few things about money and its rules. Of which there are two:

1. Don't spend more than you earn or sooner or later you will run out of cash and be in the shit.

2. It's generally better to know how and when the shit is coming, that way you may be able to prevent it. Keep honest records. At least for yourself.

So here's a question for you. How much is total public sector revenue this year? Or how about this one. Is the total public debt as a percentage of public revenue, going up or down?

I bet you don't know. I didn't. And you can bet your bottom euro, the politicians are not going to waive the numbers in your face. In fact I bet half the MPs in the House of Commons don't even know. Bet they believe their own lies. Governments don't have much influence because world forces shape our economy. And those are driven by the influence of capitalism.

So I went and did some digging around and found a website that has done the heavy lifting, and it allows you to create your own datasets. If you have a mortgage, chances are that when you took it out its total value was somewhere between 3-4 times your annual income, but over time as your income increased and the debt came down, that percentage would decrease.

All figs in billions GBP	2006	2007	2008	2009	2010	2011	2012	2013	2014	2015	2016	2017
revenue	488	519	549	536	516	555	577	593	585	648	670	690
spending	523	549	582	633	673	694	694	694	713	731	747	747
Annual surplus (deficit)	-35	-30	-33	-97	-157	-139	-117	-101	-128	-83	-77	-57
Total Public debt	420	490	530	620	760	910	1100	1185	1258	1355	1439	1497
GDP	1300	1405	1450	1407	1432	1499	1546	1575	1641	1729	1789	1860
debt as % of annual income	86%	94%	97%	116%	147%	164%	191%	200%	215%	209%	215%	217%
debt as % GDP	32%	35%	37%	44%	53%	61%	71%	75%	77%	78%	80%	80%

Not so our public debt. It's been rising faster over the last eight years than at any time since the second world war. That's not a partisan comment. I don't think governments of any political colour have the courage to take bold decisions, so in thrall are they to vested interests. The figures in blue are estimates of the future, which generally turn out to be bollocks.

The site also tells you that most of the spending goes on welfare, health and education, which to all intents and purposes are either politically untouchable or very hard to shift without mass starvation or riots on the streets. And that's just the over 50s.

So in a nutshell, unless we can make some very tough choices on spending, or start to improve incomes and hence tax revenues, we're in that proverbial. We have never faced anything like this before.

So you will hear lots of rhetoric and spin, but most of it will be guff. Which is why they are actually happy for the conversation to be all about immigration or terrorism. It's more simplistic and easy to appeal to all your opinions. Although quite frankly, without a big influx of young people in the next few years, I'm not sure who is going to pay for all my healthcare.

An answer? From me? Seriously? Well I wouldn't start from here for a start.

Here it is then.

Be careful but be graceful

Picture the scene. A dark Sunday morning, somewhere on the fringes of the Mendip Hills, Somerset. November. 2014.

"Why not stay in bed" asked Mrs Rouleur as I peered gloomily out into the stygian gloom of the first proper day of Winter. No, I resolved, despite the murk, the drizzle, the wind and cold, I was going. And what's more, I was coming back too.

It all started a couple of weeks' ago when Martyn and I were talking about great rides, in the sense of wonderful parcours, scenery, the right mix of hills and dales. That sort of thing. I waxed lyrical about the ride I used to do to my parents' house on the Hampshire/Dorset border. I'd get up at 7, cycle over on a Saturday morning and then la famille would drive over later and we'd all drive home on Sunday.

But of course there are no parents to ride to anymore, so I've not had the opportunity to do that route in ages. "Well", said Martyn, "ride over, ride back, you'll get a 200km ride in, and kick off your Randonneur round the Year". In my first year of Audax membership I managed to achieve the modest award of a Randonneur 1000, so to have another goal for 2015 is an interesting idea. I'm also one step ahead as I have already done a 200km ride in October so do the ride to Alderholt and back and I'm only 10 months away from the award.

Intrinsically motivated though I am, a bit of external validation never goes amiss, especially if I can get a medal for it. So I duly signed up the route, the first 100km or so out to Alderholt and bolted on a return leg which came from my last 300km in June. That meant that even though I was in for a DIY Audax by GPS, with a registered date of 23 November, so at least navigation would be fairly easy.

There was another reason for wanting to do the ride though. The last time I did the outward route to Alderholt had been my sister's 50th birthday celebration, and none of us knew it would be the last time we'd all be together, and I had no idea it would be the last time I'd ride that route. So I wanted to bid farewell to that particular set of roads.

So despite the drizzle, the cold, the wind, then the hammering rain, then a bit of almost sunshine and plummeting temperatures, I just got out and did it. Parts of it were tough, my bottom gear (admittedly a puny 28T) was lost, so I had to do all the hills on a 25, but it wasn't too bad. And even the headwind across Cranborne Chase was bearable. And the trees were still gorgeous. There's a hedge near Berwick St John that has to be the most beautiful I've ever seen.


I saw three other people on road bikes, one mountain biker and a teenager out for a Sunday spin on a hybrid. Apart from that it was just me, the weather, the road, and the sky. I'm now going to have a two week break from riding give my body a restful break rather than a real one. I'm 9 miles shy of 7000 miles for the year, so I don't want to make next year's targets too tough, do I?

 

“The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.”

This year I have had a few exchanges, some intelligent, some less so, with others about the rise of the UK Independence Party.

I understand the perspective of alienation, the rejection of all the so-called "mainstream" political parties. Ages ago I realised that once people organised themselves into a group, or a party, they were on the road to subsuming their individual consciences in the service of the greater entity. It's true of all areas of human existence, the tension between being an individual, lonely, and part of a group, a slave.

So UKIP are just like the rest in that respect, they are there to enlist the many in the service of a few. That's what groups are about. There is payback for the many of course. A sense of belonging, a few of your individual needs met, you are no longer lonely. But you are also a slave to the whims of the decision-makers.

I wasn't surprised by their victory in either Colchester or Clacton. UKIP play to fear, and let's be honest, prejudice and bias about another out-group - immigrants. Those who are different and would "change our way of life". Nor was the faux outrage at the parody of "white-man-van" particularly shocking. All politicians hold the electorate in some level of contempt, otherwise they wouldn't be politicians. I've been abused and nearly run over by men driving white vans to know that there is little tolerance in that in-group,

Let's suppose you decided to move from Axbridge to Manchester to seek work. Would that make you an immigrant? Would you expect to be able to use the services of Manchester Council immediately, even though you hadn't paid any Council Tax there? Or use their roads to drive to work on?

Or what if your colleagues did decide that if you didn't watch the X-factor every week this meant you were odd or weird, because so many do, and so there was just a little bit of scorn in the "banter" at work on Monday morning?

To focus on difference is pernicious, nasty, small-minded and at some level we all do it. Because we all have the same tension between being ourselves and wanting to belong. We may be at different points on that spectrum, and at different levels of awareness. But it's there, because it is a part of being human.

So what is to be done? Perhaps we could all start, for one day by being a bit more honest about our frailties, to ourselves if no-one else. I know I spend a lot of my energy trying to manage mine so that they are invisible to others. But I always feel better when I just concentrate on being me.

Maybe we could all be more thoughtful about how we genuinely balance our own needs with those of a wider group of humanity. If this sounds ridiculously idealistic then good, why settle for fear, prejudice and division.

I love Exmoor

You've got the looks, but I've got the stars.