Category: Life

I had a bit of a to-do the other day at the gym. It was a storm in a teacup over a parking space. How ridiculous is that? The point of it being, when the big angry chap said “Have you got a problem with that?”  I just tutted and walked away. Usually in such situations it’s me that’s full of rage and up for it. On this occasion I was no more than mildly irritated, which is my default state.

It’s not the incident, or even me not engaging, it’s the sudden loss of confidence. If I’d have tutted and walked away rather than get into a fight over such a trivial matter that would have been fine. Walking away because it wasn’t worth getting into a fight, and being scared I was going to get beaten up, that is all together a different matter.

Even if I never have to fight I need to feel I don’t have to worry about it. Just for my self-confidence.

You reach the venerable old age of 46 and think all that school playground bullshit is behind you. It never is. Back to the martial arts, then.

I don’t really have the time to commit to anything else. My on-going obsessions; the sub 3 hour marathon and next year’s Outlaw, are more than enough to occupy my every free moment.

However, needs must.

I’ve spent days scouring the internet for martial arts classes that I can attend. Most all of them are held in the evenings during the week. When I’m at work, in other words.

I’ve finally found a group that holds a one hour lesson in Newton-le-Willows 12.30-13.30 on a Thursday, and a class near Manchester on a Sunday afternoon. It’s two different Sifu’s (Chinese for Sensei, which in turn is Japanese for Sah Bum Nim, which is Korean for Master/ Teacher/ geezer-you-don’t-give-shit-to. You get the picture.) Different classes, but both in Wing Chun, and both under the same umbrella organization, so it’s just one joining fee.

Wing chun being the famous style taught by Ip Man to Bruce Lee.

Despite what the films say, it is disappointing bereft of head kicks and bad lip-synching. “You want to fight? Fight me!” It’s all about very close quarter fighting using simultaneous defence and attack. Speed and control of the opponent.

It’s the one I was doing (at a different club) when that picture was taken on the top of the blog.

Anyway, I start that again next Thursday. I’ve cleared it with work to start at 1415 on Thursdays to give me time to get in. Bloody hell. This is not a good time. But it never is.

 

The running is going to plan, sort of. I’m getting better, but it’s still killing me. I’m up to 4.69 miles in 30 minutes, so I’ve still not cracked the 5 miles but I am edging closer. This week’s big goal is “16 miles steady run, or half marathon race.”

I’ll knock off 16 miles tomorrow. Do it to include Frodsham hill. Start banging in some hills as training for that Bolton hill marathon. If I’m not in too much pain.

I got to bed at 0430 this morning, then was woken at 0930 by a sinus headache. I’ve had it all day, with varying degrees of pain. At the moment it’s just unpleasant. Looking at a bright screen doesn’t help. I’ve had loads of paracetamol, ibuprofen, some supposedly kick-arse max-strength sinus pills, a mad spicy Chinese and I’ve been lay flat on my back most of the day with a pillow over my eyes. Still in pain.

 

That 0430 to bed thing was a farce. I went in to work at 1400 as usual, they didn’t have a unit for me until 1600, the motorway was bollocksed due to the rain and want-to-live-for-ever dumbarses, I finally got to Crewe and they told me I’d have to wait for my trailer as they’d sent it to Glasgow by mistake!  The load is for Cowley, (next to Oxford, about 90 miles from London) and they’d sent it to Glasgow. I’m no great shakes at geography but even I know that is the opposite direction. That’s roughly 240 miles, so 480 round trip, at 9 mpg and £6.35 per gallon is £338.66 plus say, £90 for a day’s wages, roughly £430.

Oops.

The knock-on effect being that I didn’t even start off for Cowley until 1910, they want me there for 1800. Not.Best.Pleased.

Hopefully only 4 more days at work then off for a week! Huzzah!  Not counting my chickens, but it would be nice. Suppose those slack bastards at the gym will want xmas day off. There’s one training day lost. Selfish bastards.

Nearly that most wonderful time of the year. Only 10 more sleeps *excited face* Doctor Who Xmas special!  Woo and indeed Who!

 

Which brings me to my week on Twitter;

Some social observation:

Life would be easier if there were lanes for fast walkers and slow walkers, and then if everyone in the slow lane were destroyed with fire

“@laughingmaonow: Oh so you think Women belong in the kitchen? Tell me more about your dating life.”

Brilliant – just been told my four year old nephew once shouted "God is dead" when he was on the toilet having a shit

 

The DM Reporter (spoof Daily Mail account) only just managed to be satirical:

WAR ON CHRISTMAS: EU bans children from enjoying the holiday with their grandparents over fears of offending Muslims.

CENSUS RESULTS: White population "virtually a minority" as numbers plunge below 90%.

FeMAIL: Are you wearing enough make-up this holiday season? Take our special Judgemental Christmas Mirror test now!

FeMAIL: What do you hate most about yourself? Your face or your body? Tell us now to win a £5 Boots voucher.

Other ‘news’ accounts reported:

NEWS! Cancer patients reveal excitement at new £1.2bn attack submarine

NEWS! Government to ignore expert advice on drug laws in favour of series 9 & 10 of Grange Hill

"Miliband agreed to send politicians ‘back where they came from’, although it’s unclear what Eton will do with them."

Sub heading, American school massacre (current tragedy)

NEWS! Republicans claim latest US shooting caused by ‘dangerous lack of guns’

That awkward moment when Fox News says it’s too soon to talk about gun control after that shooting 2 days ago and another shooting happens.

It’s too soon after Lincoln’s assassination to be talking about gun control.

That is simply gob-smacking. Over 29 people a day shot dead.

 

Other political stuff:

Every time they say ‘we have to deal with the deficit’ we should translate that into ‘we are transferring wealth from the poor to the rich’.

#LibDems down to 8% "Go back to your constituencies, and prepare for oblivion"

No, please carry on, Tory backbenchers. Equal marriage *will* happen, and in the meantime you’re reminding us what Tories are really about.

If your organisation needs protecting from human rights and equalities, you’ve just got to face the fact your organisation is an evil one.

When you start typing "Tories are" into Google the first four autofill words are "evil", "scum", "finished" and "vermin".

#equalmarriage Tory MPs who are so ‘true’ to the bible conveniently forget the bits about helping the poor. Ungodly hypocrites.

People complaining about gay marriage should relax. I don’t think they’re going to make it compulsory.

(The No 10 cat wrote:)  I didn’t think it was possible to feel colder, but then George Osborne stroked me…

British Prime Minister Rupert Murdoch has rejected the main recommendation of Lord Leveson, according to his spokesperson David Cameron.

 

More random stuff;

SECRET SANTAS. Give your colleague 12 sheets of blank paper and say it’s a 2013 Mayan Calendar.

Best headline of the week; “Stylish but illegal monkey found roaming Toronto IKEA”

If MTV cancelled all their shows and actually played music again… I still wouldn’t watch, due to todays music sucking.

Apparently ‘the computer’ keeps sending my claim to wrong dept and that is why payments stop. Cos we all know computers have free will.

Good news everybody. Chris Rea has set off.

Simply immense Twitter Gritter

Man jailed for two years for defacing a Mark Rothko painting. I’ll remember that the next time a child abuser gets a suspended sentence.

"substandard foreign students are conning their way into UK unis as part of fiendish plot to work in Tesco"

My friend texts "ur" instead of "you’re" but puts extra letters in "so" because she’s "soooo happy." This is why everyone hates you, Julie

And finally, cute:

 

Later,

Buck.

Bah! As part of my training plan I entered a 10 mile race for today. On Wednesday I thought I’d best find out where I was running. This involved tracking down the confirmation email. Not an easy task as I ordered it on the old computer and it’s not showing on this one. I finally tracked it down on my ‘phone (which is where I’d forwarded it from my old computer for safe keeping. Then completely forgotten about. Genius.) Yep, 10 mile race, at Stockport. I double checked my training plan, goal for the week: ‘Race 5 miles (30 min) or 10k (40min)’. D’oh!

A pox on the French and their new-fangled silly-arse measurement system!

I was still going to do it, even though it was pointless (I run a 10 mile course most weeks just to keep my hand in) and set my alarm for it this morning. I got up, and dressed, realised it was raining, freezing and blowing a gale and sacked it.

I was still going to go right up until the point when I remembered the website said you had to park 1.3 miles away and get ferried to the start by bus. The thought of standing around before and after the race, freezing my nuts off waiting for a bus, was the straw that broke the fat truckers back. Drive up to Manchester, freeze my arse off, run a pointless race, freeze again, then drive back. Nah. I tried to climb back in bed, but obviously I was wide awake (though still knackered) by then. Ace.

I’ll get on Gmaps Pedometer in a bit and mark out an exact course for 5 miles and 10k and run that later. I tried the 5 miles in 30 minutes in the gym on Wednesday, I managed 4.59 miles. Which, my rough maths tells me extrapolates to 6.2 miles (10k) in 40 minutes. If I could have sustained the pace. Hmm, just worked that out as I wrote it. That’s a bit of a big Brucie bonus. I thought I’d just failed. Actually I failed conditionally.

I have another week now of catching up on the ‘fast’ week’s goal. The goal for next week is just to run 16 miles at a steady pace or a half marathon race. No biggie. The week after ends with a 15 mile run in less than 2 hours. Cool, two easy weeks. The week after is 10k (that’s 10K, not miles, K!) in 39 minutes. Three weeks to get up to speed then, I’m not far off the pace as it is, it’s just building the stamina to maintain that godawful pace.

Oh dear, the week after is 10 miles (Her Majesty’s Imperial miles) in 1:05. That’s huge. On the other hand, not so much. At 6 m/m I’d do it an hour (obviously) and I have already done a 1:08. It’s just I looked at it and thought how hard it was for me to crack 1:15, but that was ages ago.

Sorry, this is a bit rambling. I’m working this out as I’m writing it. I’m actually up for that 1:05, in fact I reckon I can probably shave some off that time. Always too ambitious.

Talking of which, while I’d managed to find the emails on my ‘phone I tracked down the other races I’ve entered; a half marathon on the 20.01.’13 (“aim for a 6m/m pace” *gulp*) and that ‘fun’ marathon I’ve entered around Bolton. I followed the link to the website for the latter, (http://www.hillrunner.org.uk/info2.cfm?info_id=107164) which has the sub-heading “some of the toughest running events in the UK”. That should have been a clue. Then there is the fact that it is based around Rivington. Pure evil hills. The fact that it is called the Bolton Hill Marathon could possibly be deemed a hint as to it’s nature.

Then, when you scroll down the site, there is this:

Holy crap!

The bottom axis is marked in miles. So the first 3 or so miles are straight up! That’s to destroy your legs. Then you have another 23 miles to run. At about 21 miles, as you are stumbling the last few miles to the finish line, you have another 2 mile ascent. Joy.

You’ll remember this isn’t part of my training plan, this is just a ‘fun’ marathon I threw in for a giggle.

That’s on the 10th of March. Rapid change of plans. I’ll do the speed training through the week, and try to blast my goal on the Friday or Saturday, but Sunday is going to be hill work. Running up and down Frodsham hill or around Rivington. As of next week, I’ve cocked it up this week with the aborted run today.

Also this week I managed to get my place in the Chester Marathon. I was concerned as it’s a very popular one and sells out quite quickly. However, I’m in. Yay!

That is the big one. The one towards which all the the training is focused. The sub 3 hour marathon.

I hope I’ve backed the right horse on this one. I can’t find a direct comparison of say, the Liverpool marathon vs the Chester marathon, but statistically it looks hopeful. In 2012 there were 3,320 runners in Liverpool, of whom 55 cracked the 3 hour barrier. Whilst Chester had a mere 2,072 and managed 84 sub 3’s. Statistically 1.6% vs 4.05%. Even if the extra 500 running in Liverpool were all fat duffers (thus skewing the percentage) it’s still over 50% more people cracked 3 hours at Chester.

Yada yada yada.

It doesn’t mean a thing. Come the day, come the man. Or  not.

Do, or do not. There is no ‘try’.

 

I know I said I was going to post all my running rants under one post. Sorry. To be honest it’s about all that is happening in my life at the moment. I can only sustain one obsession at a time. Work is just what I do to bring in the cash. I sleep when I can, I swim at least once a week, and hit the bike for a warm-down in the gym. The rest is just running. At least it is short bursts at the moment, but it is still so very, very hard.

 

One other thing, I seem to be ill. Yesterday I felt so nauseous that I ended up going to bed in the afternoon, today is going the same way. I thought it was my sinuses, and they are indeed a bit blocked, but I feel really weak as well. Possibly not too well. Ho hum. What a downer on the weekend, though.

 

Bright side, here’s the round up of the week on Twitter:

I asked Frank Sinatra if he’d ever eaten a heron. He said “Egrets? I’ve had a few, but then again, too few to mention.”

"God made Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve." God also made Hitler. Your point is invalid.

Your child is being eaten by a camel. Do you a) save your child or b) take a photo

On the three trillion three hundred and forty three billionth day Gravity created the Earth. And Gravity was pleased.

Well, seeing as Ed Miliband has released his Christmas Card.. . Here’s another one, courtesy of #Banksy

 

People often shout "Go back to where you came from!" at me, knowing full well that I was born in Atlantis. People are so mean.

There was ongoing outrage at Starbucks tax dodging:

Which tax band are you in? < £35k = 20% >£35k but less than £150k = 40% <£150k = 50% Starbucks have offered £10m on £398m turnover = 2.5%

Oh, I must have missed the announcement that you can decide your own donation in lieu of Corporation Tax. Will make my year end much easier.

 

Disgust at the Tories:

The rich get richer, the poor get poorer. Take a bow George Osborne

Iain Duncan Smith paid £39 for 1 breakfast courtesy of the taxpayer. I have to feed myself for a week on less

“The Independent’s cover is brilliant”

"No miracle cure for the economy," vows Osborne. "Not while I’m chancellor."

 

Some sage childcare tweeting from a professional nanny:

One kid is asleep. One kid is still stubbornly awake. She must be building up a tolerance to ether.

 

"Were it not for us they would have cut harder and deeper" Thing is: were it not for you pal, they wouldn’t have a working majority.

If a man strikes thee on one cheek, turn to him the other. Then, having shown thyself impregnable to cheek attack, beat the crap out of him.

.Whoever stacked these books is both evil and hilarious.

"There’s a reason people write down music before they play it" Freddie’s excellent take on jazz

.If a friend asks you to babysit, softly say, "I didn’t think I’d be trusted with a child’s safety ever again." Cry. They’ll cancel. You win.

Royal fever hit with the announcement of Kate being knocked up:

Britain’s most privileged foetus announced. Every less fortunate plebeian foetus shrugs, and prepares to enter a world of obscene injustice.

Surely in these times of austerity he should have been spayed to avoid the cost of another one on the civil list

I observed: Front page of paper, grinning buffoon "Smile that shows Kate is alright". *frown of anger that shows I couldn’t give a fuck*

I also pointed out the ridiculous nature of inserting an asterisk in a word.

Using an asterisk to avoid offence. Like "L**d Mc Al****, p**o". We all know it means "Loud mc allowed pogo"

(Allegedly.)

There was a rather good find:

A youth judge gave some advice to teens in 1959.50yrs later it went viral.He has an excellent point quite frankly!

And lastly, because it’s the internet, cats.

And

Just when you think the Batman movie franchise might finally be over, hope arrives from an unexpected quarter

Good old Twitter, saving my blogs from tedium and keeping me amused.

Enough for now,

later,

Buck.

This has been a momentous week; I finally cracked the 3 miles in 18 minutes barrier, then the day after (on tired legs) set a new 10 mile PB on the way to pissing the 12 miles in under 90 minutes task. And I tied my hair back for the first time since I had it all chopped off.

To qualify that; I did about 6 minutes warm up (½% gradient) then straight into 10 mph (6 m/m) on the level. I didn’t stop to catch my breath just took the gradient off and whacked the speed up. For the first two miles I was going amazingly well. I was breathing OK, and it was all going suspiciously well. I had to check to make sure I’d got it at the right speed. I was managing so well I was getting cocky and thinking about knocking off 4 miles or so, to prepare me for next week’s challenge, 5 miles at 6m/m. Then about 2.1 miles it hit me. Like a brick in a sock. Then it was just grit your teeth and don’t give in. Extra kudos is due as after the 3 mile sprint I didn’t just stop the running machine, flop and wheeze, I slowed it down to 6.5 mph and got my breath back on the hoof.

Anyway, I did it. On a flat treadmill, but I still did it. 10 days ago I was wondering if I was physically capable.

The 12 mile run was a bit of a chore with tired legs but I did the 10 miles in 1:08.14 and the 12 in 1:22.15 I had 1:30 to complete it so I had over a mile in the bag.

I’m back on schedule for my training plan. I will have to push harder now, but at least I know I can force myself to maintain that pace. Once you’ve done it once you know you can do it. You know how bad it is, but that it is possible.

Go me!

 

Also this week I got my papers through for leaving the T.A.. This surprised me a little. I rather thought they were letting it run until I’d been re-enlisted the requisite 2 years then compulsory draft me to active service. I wasn’t making an issue of getting out as I wasn’t that bothered about the thought of a tour of duty. It’s one of those things; you are tempted to volunteer but don’t. If I’d been ordered to go that would have been fine.

Now I have to return my kit and request release from service, or however it’s termed.

 

Work is a bit of a pain in the arse. They’ve decided I have to share a regular truck with some guy. The trouble is, he doesn’t get back to the yard until at least 45 minutes after I start. Last week I had to wait between 1 – 2½ hours before I could start. I start at 1400, go to Crewe, do a trailer swap, then drive to Cowley, (next to Oxford, Darn Sarf). The Cowley lot want me there for 1800 so they can get the load off, sorted and loaded onto the vans for 0500. I didn’t leave Crewe until 1815 on one day. So less than pleased.

I worry because we have to write all our times down on our worksheet. If they look at mine and it says ‘sat around doing bugger all for 2½ hrs, drove to Crewe –empty- then started to do productive work’ they might just see sense and sack me off and start the run at Crewe.  Ho hum.

 

The week on Twitter:

Commentary on the Leveson inquiry;

It would seem David Cameron’s address is no longer Number 10 Downing Street: it’s now Flat 2, Rupert Murdoch’s arse. #leveson

 

The spoof Daily Mail account posted:

MODERN BRITAIN: Orphanages, nature reserves and middle-class suburban homes to be bulldozed to make space for immigrants, warns minister.

MAX HASTINGS: “With the publication of the Leveson Report it has become apparent that Hitler has won.”

HEALTH: Could ‘having a generally sunny disposition and being optimistic about most things’ cause cancer

This week’s Daily Mail Cancer List: Mon) Lightbulbs Tue) Paprika Wed) Napkins Thu) ‘The robot’ Fri) Empathy Sat) Casseroles Sun) UKip

 

There was a timely wildlife warning:

There’s literally no way to know how many chameleons are in your house

An insight into the ethnicity of Jesus:

Three good arguments that Jesus was Black: 1. He called everyone brother 2. He liked Gospel 3. He didn’t get a fair trial

There was a handy flowchart for deciding the gender specific nature of toys in time for xmas:

 

There were some philosophical insights:

Oprah Winfrey teaches us that the deepest spiritual journeys are the ones taken on private jets.

Why are my Placebo CD cases all empty?

How come there’s no crap or piss in supermans spaceship? He was in that thing from a toddler up to approx 5/6 #superman #shipfullofshit 

 

Some words of belated wisdom:

I wish they hadn’t installed the panic button between the self-destruct button and the soap dispenser.

A top tip:

WORRIED people will frown on your drinking alone? Buy two drinks at a time, and look angrily at your watch as you drink both.

On the same theme;

As I don’t have time to go to the pub these days, I am forced to do all my hard drinking at work.

 

And then there is this. It’s a Letters Of Note thing. Believe me, it’s worth reading the whole thing. Letter and reply.

In May of 2000, an episode of Will & Grace aired in which one of its gay characters, Jack, joins an ex-gay ministry in an effort to get close to, and seduce, its formerly gay leader, Bill (played by Neil Patrick Harris). Unsurprisingly, the ex-gay community — people who claim to have suppressed or sometimes even "cured" their homosexuality — weren’t depicted in the best of lights. Shortly after the episode was aired, the show’s story editor, Jon Kinnally — himself a gay man — received a letter of complaint from Mike Haley, a "former gay man" and Youth & Gender Specialist at Focus on the Family, a Christian organisation which actively promotes sexual orientation conversion therapy.
His letter and a response composed by the Will & Grace staff, both of which were subsequently published by an infuriated Focus on the Family, can be read below. When later questioned about the matter, Jon Kinnally said, "What [Focus on the Family] are doing is reprehensible, wrong, and fear-based."

 

Transcripts

June 9, 2000
Mr. Jon Kinnally
Story Editor
Will and Grace
NBC Television Network
30 Rockefeller Plaza
New York, NY 10112-0002
Dear Mr. Kinnally:
I am writing to request a meeting with you regarding a recent episode of Will and Grace. The show in question grossly misrepresented thousands of individuals struggling to come out of homosexuality. As a former gay man, and now a national spokesman and expert on homosexuality and youth issues for Focus on the Family — one of the country’s largest organizations who, among other things, assists gays and lesbians who desire to be heterosexual — I know first-hand how frustrating and painful it is to be mocked by those who haven’t taken the time to find out what this process is all about. I’m specifically talking about references in the show to former homosexuals, and those wrestling with their sexual identity, as "freaks," "self-loathing closet cases," "morally wrong" and as members of "cults." Nowhere in this episode are we portrayed as honest men and women seeking help.
You may vehemently disagree with this position, but I’d at least like the opportunity to sit down with you and talk about it. Our conversation may not change your mind about the possibility of coming out of homosexuality, but at the very least it will put a real face behind the caricature you depicted on prime time TV. And in the end, hopefully it will encourage you to think twice before ridiculing the belief systems of those who differ from you. With that in mind, please respectfully consider my request, Mr. Kinnally. I can be reached at [redacted]. Thank you.
Sincerely,
Mike Haley
Public Policy/Youth & Gender Specialist
———————
July 14, 2000
Mr. Mike Haley
Focus on the Family
8605 Explorer Drive
Colorado Springs, CO 80920
Dear Mr. Haley,
I received your letter dated June 9, and was very interested in your point of view. The issues you raised are the very same ones that we on the Will & Grace writing staff debate on a daily basis. Our decision to present the story on the ex-gay ministry was solely in the interest of creating the most comedic episode possible. And it was certainly not our intention to offend you in any way. But come on, Mike, even you’ve got to admit that fags trying to pretend they’re straight is pretty darn funny.
In response to your request for a meeting, well, I think I can read between the lines on that one. I’m about 6’1", brown hair, green eyes and I’m into rollerblading, baking cookies, and cleaning up afterwards. My dislikes include game-playing, negative attitudes, and condoms.
If any of this interests you, I can be found every Sunday at the Brunch and Beer Bust at the Motherlode in West Hollywood. I do hope you show, because like you, I am an expert on homosexuality, and in my expert opinion, this "hard-to-get thing" you’re playing is Hot, Hot, Hot!
Respectfully,
(Signed)
Jon Kinnally
Executive Story Editor
Will & Grace
P.S. Keep on watchin’!

 

Shit like that really gladdens my heart.

Right so I’m off,

Later,

Buck.

Ha!

Pain is just failure rubbing salt into the wounds.

In other words, I’ve still not cracked the 3 miles in 18 minutes. The training schedule started this week, if I’m to fit it in to the races I’ve booked. ie, the big goal for the end of one week is a 10 mile race at a 6 m/m pace, another is a half marathon, etc. This week should have culminated with me doing a nice easy 3 miles at 6m/m.

I took two stabs at it this week. Both in the gym so as to give me a constant speed. Both times I managed a mile and a half then had to give up, half dead. The plus side to the gym is the constant speed of the run and not having to cross roads, the negative is the heat. By the time you’ve done the warm up mile you are sweating, then trying to sprint flat out… It kills me.

I then go on the exercise bike for a quick spin to break up the lactic acid in my legs. Even just a 15 minute spin at a reasonable level of resistance has the sweat pouring off me. I have to throw a towel over the bike to mop it all up. I’m already dripping from the run, any effort after that is sweat city. The heat!

That guy I met who was saying he ran the marathon part of the Lanzarote Ironman in 45 degrees! Seriously, screw that.

Anyway, tomorrow morning while it’s still cold, I’m going to take another shot at it. On the road. Anybody getting in my way is going to get trampled. I’ve got to do it. You know you’re giving it your best shot when you eye up an approaching transit van at a roundabout and think “you’re going to have to run me over ‘cos I’m not stopping.”

I’m looking at the training programme, the big goal at the end of next week is to run 12 miles in 90 minutes or less. Cool. I can piss that. I did a new PB on the 10 mile run of 1.09 that means I have 21 minutes to stroll the last two miles. Yes, just checked it again. 12 miles, sub 90 minutes. Cool. That gives me another week to to get up to proper pace.  The week after is 5 miles in 30 minutes! Back to the 6m/m pace. Oh dear.

 

Work is more of the same. I’m getting better all the time. I will crack that 90 degree reverse between two barriers in one attempt. They have cleared out a space at the front now, so you can get it more or less in position then pull forward to straighten it out, then reverse straight back. That takes the challenge out of it, though. Also, sometimes the shunters leave a trailer sticking out in front of the cleared space, so you can’t count on it. Once I’ve cracked this reverse and can do it comfortably in one go the lorry driving world will be my oyster.

It’s all about setting the reverse up. I think I know what I’m doing now. Now it’s just a matter of practice. Consequently, the reverses in the yard, which I used to struggle with, are no longer a challenge. The thing was, I used to try and reverse into the bays at an angle, having to guess where my arse end was on the blind side. Now I know it’s about getting it more or less straight before you reverse in. That way, even if you still can’t see your blind side arse end, it is not sticking out. You can drive  your wheels down an imaginary line beside the trailer you can see, knowing the blind side is safe.  This probably sounds like either utter gibberish or patently obvious. In theory it’s obvious, in practice it’s taken me a while.

 

To be honest, I’m a bit disappointed with myself. I’ve not really been committing to my training. It’s been windy and rainy and I’m usually running late, so I’ve not cycled to work all week. I only managed the gym twice in the week and I chickened out of going to Warrington Tri swim session again today. I’ve still not been down the allotment to extract my apple tree and fruit bushes, prior to letting it go. My sax-ing has been on hold while I’m on these shifts during the week and supposedly committed to training and I’ve not got back to the French since I had that week off. And I’ve still not filled out those visa forms. And I have to get an accountant.

Oh god. Now I’m disappointed in myself and massively stressed to boot. That is a huge to-do list. And most of it is stressful. Hence it still being on my to-do list, not my totally-done list. The smallest list in the history of metaphor.

Right, enough is enough. Sit myself down tomorrow and arrange a list then get all of the above done. Then they’ll be done, not adding links to my chain (like the ghosts in A Christmas Carol) of stress.

 

On a lighter note, Twitter!

I don’t know if you are aware of the workings of said, but I’ll assume not as no-one follows me on there. Anyway, one of the features is hashtag #. If you put # before a word of phrase everyone who want’s to can see it. Say you were watching some goddawful reality tv show and you wanted to know what everyone else thought about some talentless brain-donor fodder, you’d simply put #XFactor and et viola. Like a cry for help, real time. Though to be honest, a lot of it is people who hate whichever show it is, and just want to rip it to bits, which I’ve previously shown can be really funny.

I digress.  There was an epic PR fail this week, when Susan Boyle’s publicist launched #susanalbumparty.

Lots of teary-eyed merriment as we all read “Su’s anal bum party.” They meant Susan album party, but we cared not a whit.

I forgot to mention it, but just before the American elections, Joss Whedon (all hail the Whedon! We are not worthy, we are not worthy!) posted this “endorsement” of Mitt Romney.

http://youtu.be/LBewrP1X_is

Ian Duncan Smith got some abuse on #bbcqt (bbc question time)

Every time anyone claps Ian Duncan Smith, a kitten dies. And is then declared fit for work.

I don’t understand why #bbcqt isn’t dominated, every week, by the fact British citizens now use food banks.

Reminder that Yvette Cooper "flipped" her home three times to cheat taxpayer out of money #bbcqt

WHY DONT YOU CAP YOUR PRIVATE LANDLORD MATES RENTS YOU TOSSER IDS #BBCQT

IDS thinks it’s unreasonable for anyone to receive more than £35,000 pa from the state. And claimed £98,000 in expenses last year. #bbcqt

Hitler stated that the disabled were a burden on society it couldn’t afford. Cameron said welfare bill cannot be afforded by society today

So you see how the # works. It saves people like me having to watch infuriating programmes.

 

I over-reacted to someone mentioning an “internet historian”.

"Internet historians" Internet historians? Digging through the oral tradition before print to find the lost past of the internet?

Think I’ll put that on my C.V., internet historian. I’ve been on here for 5 years, that’s practically the neolithic.

Internet historian, arts critic (it’s crap. Call that art? It’s a bed, Tracey, get a real job!) bon vivant, reformed killer. Trucks a bit.

Tell you what, if I’d have knocked up that C.V. last week I reckon I could be BBC DG now. #missedatrick

 

Class war featured:

"Tony Hall," new #BBC Director-General is in fact "Anthony William Hall, Baron Hall of Birkenhead." They’re doing this to wind us up now…

Health and safety in the workplace went mad:

Religion got a look in:

Religion: Turning prophets into profits since 4000 B.C.

Someone pointed out: I know you *think* you’ve seen the worst shoes ever, but you haven’t. Not yet

I had to use a truck that one of the drivers reckons was ‘his’. And he’s massively precious about it.

Last time I used it I left him a message “Sorry about the double incontinence, it’s a medical condition. The seat will soon dry.”

"What do we want?" "Freedom of expression through the medium of interpretive dance!" "When do we want it?" *Jazz Hands*

Not sure why I found this so funny. Drunk Australian attempts to ride a crocodile! http://bbc.in/aFRR0v

Jeffrey Archer is against gay marriage. That makes us even, as I’m against convicted criminals being able to sit in the House of Lords.

At a VIP dinner last night an American woman asked me"where are you from?" I said Australia, she said "wow your English is amazing"

Of course we all went mad over Gaza and the Irish letting that pregnant woman die rather than let her abort her mis-carrying baby (that was going to die anyway). But the laughs were pretty scarce on the ground from those. And the women bishops thing. Mainly because they get to sit in the House of Lords so are effectively part of the government, not so much the god-squadding thing.

OK, enough. The fight back starts tomorrow. Clear my to-do list and get on with stuff. Stop stressing about it and get it done.

Talk is so cheap. I like talk.

Ho hum,

Buck.

It’s been a while. It’s not like I’ve been that busy except in the field of prevarication, where I’ve been rushed off my feet.

I had a week off last week. Wendy was told she had to use her holidays so took a week off, thought I might as well join her.

My sister, Lisa, and I went to Wales on the Sunday at the start of my hols to see the parents. It turns out they had not buggered off back to Bulgaria as I thought, merely gone to their rural retreat.

It was my first time there, looked like a lovely place to go in Summer. Very quiet and scenic. Loads of lovely, fitness improving hills. Mmmm, hills.

Then on the Monday, I texted my timesheet in to work, with the accompanying message saying “don’t forget I’m off this week.” I started to say to Wendy, “Give it a few minutes to check I’m in the clear.” I hadn’t even finished the sentence and my ‘phone was going.

They were saying they had someone to cover the rest of the week but could I go in today. In other words the lazy bastards had got my email saying I wasn’t working, done Jack about it and expected me to drag them out of the shit.

The thing is, it would have looked bad on me, not the agency, if I hadn’t gone in. Or possibly both. But I have to think about paying my bills.

Anywho, I went in. On my hols, on short notice. Not a happy bunny. I picked up my truck and trailer and drove to Crewe (50 minutes away). When I got there they said they had nothing for me, so I should go home. Are you having a laugh?

So that was that day ruined for bugger all. Thanks for that. The only bright side is I get paid a minimum of 8 hours if I start a shift.

 

I went for my first real swim since the Outlaw last year while I was off.  I went for some sea swims when we were in Cornwall, but they weren’t very long or many. I had been putting it off as, well, I hate it, to be frank. I just don’t like swimming. I’m bad at it, it’s hard work and if you get it wrong you can die.

The longer you leave it the stronger the aversion gets. In the end it was only because I’ve joined Warrington Tri for swimming lessons and wanted to be sure I wasn’t going to make an arse out of myself by drowning that I went. Turns out it was a big fuss over nothing. I knocked out an hour’s swim without much of a problem. It was slow work but at that pace I could have kept it up all day. Or that’s how it felt at the time.

Since I last went swimming in Warrington they’ve opened up a new leisure centre and handed over the running of the all to a not-for-profit organization. This new one is not attached to a school so the swimming baths are open in the day time! Woo-hoo!

I was so impressed with the facility I went back the same afternoon and signed up for the (rolling, monthly) membership. As I work from 2pm I just got the Mon-Fri 7- 5 package (£18 per month). This means I can train during the week before work. In theory. This week it just hasn’t happened. I will have to be more disciplined. I can swim three times a week, and use the gym facilities. Then it works out as pence per visit. Also it gets me fit.  It’s just so hard, in practice, to get up when you’re bog-eyed with two or three hours before you start work, get a coffee, do an hour’s swim, an hour’s gym, come home, have breakfast, make dinner for work, then straight out.

Discipline. Have to apply it.

Perhaps if I promise myself a full-on lie-in on the days in between? Easier said than done. I got to bed at 2 ish one morning last week and was woken at 05.45 by the neighbour’s yappy dog. It was only out for fifteen minutes, but I was awake for an hour.

Anyway, I’ll just have to knuckle down and get on with it. The trouble being; if you are knackered and sat still for hours in a boring truck you can end up very dead. Which renders training pointless. And disbars one from gainful employment.

Also on the training front, I’ve been running and dieting. I had let my greed and sloth get the better of me, but then I broke the 11 stones barrier again and got a grip. I blame Sainsbury’s. Their scones are more addictive than crack. Not that they are, in and of themselves massively fattening. It’s the half pound of butter you have to put on them that does it. I dropped 8 pounds in 6 days, but then missed two days exercise and troughed out on Cox’s apples so put a pound back on. Had a day of weakness today, but back on it from Monday.

The running is, well, not great. To fit in with the races (as part of my training) I should be starting the training schedule on Monday. This means by Saturday I should be able to run 3 miles in 18 minutes. I have my doubts. I’ve been running that 1½ mile sprint and by the end of it I’ve been half dead. And still not up to pace. Today I manned-up and did it as a there-and-back, making it 3 miles.

My main problem has been breathing. I just can’t get enough air into me at that pace, and don’t have the second to spare to spit. Today I did the mile in 6.09, the half in 3.23, which is dire. Then I forced myself to turn around and carry on. I noticed the wind was now behind me and I could still breathe so I picked up the pace, did the half in 3.14, and the final mile in 6.30. Totalling 19.17. Still bad, but I was breathing through it. If I can breathe I can force myself to keep up the pace.

I’m thinking of a quick-ish 10 miler tomorrow then go to the gym on Monday morning, get warmed up, then set it for 10mph, grit my teeth and tough it out. It’s only 18 minutes. At a constant pace. That is the other thing; I set off at more or less a sprint, run out of steam within two minutes, slow down as I catch my breath, then speed up again. I then have to try to run to the maximum but not so fast that I can’t keep it up, if you follow me?  If I do it on the running machine the pace is set. I just have to keep up. And not die from heat exhaustion. They should have one running machine in a refrigerated zone. Even a cool/ chilly gym is too damn hot after even half a mile at that pace (for me).

Alistair Brownlea ran the 10k at the end of his Olympic Triathlon (gold winning) race (1500 metre swim, 37 k ride, 10k run, whatever the hell that is in English) in 29.07, after jogging in the last 200m.  Which is to say he swam flat out for roughly a mile, sprinted a 23 mile course on the bike, *THEN* ran 6.2 miles at 4.45 minute/mile. Well, he is the best in the world, but even so it puts my attempts into perspective.

 

In better news, we got Wendy’s passport sorted. She had to attend an interview in Manchester, so she booked it while we were off. She passed. Yay!

Now the onus is back on me to sort out my personal history from the age of 18. Work and home addresses for all that time. Shit.

 

The other thing for me at that moment is the band Elbow. I know I’m late to the party but what a revelation!

http://youtu.be/QDY5dAmUw3k

http://youtu.be/ELKx11dXtcM

The absolute beauty and sublime subtlety of the first song, the sheer genius of the lyrics of the second. It is poetry. It is so much more more than a pop song needs to be. And good music to boot.

The second song is genius from start to finish. I was going to quote a line or two, but the whole thing needs reverence:

They’re pacing Piccadilly in packs again
And moaning for the mercy of a never come rain
The sun’s had enough and the simmering sky
Has the heave and the hue of a woman on fire

Shop shutters rattle down and I’m cutting the crowd
All scented and descending from the satellite towns
The neon is graffiti singing make a new start
So I look for a plot where I can bury my broken heart

No I know I won’t forget you but I’ll forget myself if the city will forgive me
The man on the door has a head like Mars
Like a baby born to the doors of the bars
And surrounded by steam with his folded arms
He’s got that urban genie thing going on

He’s so mercifully free of the pressures of grace
Saint Peter in satin he’s like Buddha with Mace

No I know I won’t forget you but I’ll forget myself if the city will forgive me
Do you move through the room with a glass in your hand
Thinking too hard about the way you stand
Are you watching them pair off and drinking them long?
Are you falling in love every second song?
No I know I won’t forget you but I’ll forget myself and the city will forgive me

 

 

Just take a moment to bask in the glory of those lyrics.

The bouncer; a head like Mars, surrounded by steam, arms folded, “he’s got that urban genie thing going on” Wonderful. “He’s so mercifully free of the pressures of grace” Joyous.  “Saint Peter (gatekeeper to heaven) in satin (the shiny black bomber jackets they wear) he’s like Buddha (the fat, bald, Buddha) with Mace”

What a wonderfully dense few lines with such meaning crammed into every phrase! And how witty, “so mercifully free of the pressures of grace” A total brute without even the knowledge of what he lacks. And the juxtaposition of Buddha, the ultimate pacifist, with Mace is genius.

The first song is equally brilliant. It makes me ache for a loss I don’t have.

“Running around with a juggernaut brow. Shoving commitments like cats in a sack” .

The man is a genius.

If you are already an admirer I apologize for labouring the point, but it is new to me and it has totally blown me away.

The only other thing of note is the thrice damned bloody Fox channel! They cancelled Firefly, the best sci-fi programme in the history of telly. They cancelled Dollhouse, a patchy but still worthy sci-fi show. We have just started watching Terminator, the Sarah Connor Chronicles. It is brilliant. We shot through the first series, and got straight into the second. We were really enjoying it and wondering how we’d managed to overlook it for so long. The best thing was it was several years old, so they should be on series ten by now. I googled it, cancelled after the second series! DAMN YOU FOX!

Bah.

And on that sour note,

later.

Buck.

PS, Twitter update:

Sometimes I remember Fearne Cotton on Radio 1 referring to a mother as The Mummatron and I get the headache that means I will kill again

If there’s any justice, the boss’s daughters are subjecting him to a 94-slide PowerPoint about why he should take them to Twilight again

The greatest trick the devil ever played was getting us to blame it on the boogie.

Having a washbasin delivered later. I’ll let that sink in

One of my mum chums wrote: I love it when people have babies and they’re all emotional and in awe and totally in love and stuff! Give it time

Followed by : Needy little pricks

Which made me laugh.

Two years ago David Cameron claimed that "The Tories are back in the North." Last night they lost their deposit in Manchester.

Asda Employee: ‘What you want on da cake?’ Customer: ‘Best Wishes Suzanne’ and underneath that ‘We will miss you’.

Oh Edward. It’s SO complicated. I’m a girl, you’re a vampire. He’s a dog. She’s a Mermaid, that’s a cow, there’s a horse. This is bollocks

Aah, @EverydaySexism. Cold caller peeved I didn’t want their service, asked to talk to ‘the man of the house’. I gave phone to my 6 yr old

Love the letter in Guardian from man sent by wife to buy butternut squash: "I could find no such cordial." He’s from Wolverhampton.

I’ve just opened up a can of worms. That’s the last time I buy spaghetti from Lidl.

Long grey pube in my cup of tea. Do Dignitas do walk-ins or do you have to book?

This should get them off my back for a while:

On Remembrance Sunday we had this:

Genuinely a quite emotional 2 minutes of silence across all 4 platforms of Darlington station. Broken only by 3 squaddies arguing about beer

(Which I thought was perfect.)

The word ‘phonetically’ doesn’t even start with an f. Shit like this is why aliens fly straight past us

How does Batman’s mother let him know when it’s dinner time? She doesn’t, she died as a result of violent crime. It’s why he’s Batman.

Australians have a message for Republicans who threatened to leave the U.S if Obama won:

Under Top Tips: TAKE a tray & roller to paint-balling for any close up hand-to-hand combat

Cameron: "I look forward to working with (Obama) again over the next four years" Two years, Dave. Two years.

Nadine Dorries has been suspended by the Conservative Party over TV farce. I’d rather see her suspended from a lamp post.

"I will not eat oysters. I want my food dead. Not sick, not wounded… dead. — Woody Allen"

Dear shaving commercials, stop shaving hairless legs. If you want impress us, please shave a gorilla.

I like how ninja turtles wear masks to hide their identity. Its not like you’re a giant fricking turtle or anything……

This woman had NO sense of humor when I pointed at her baby and whispered, "I wouldn’t get that wet or feed it after midnight."