THE GOOD BUCK

Category: Life

  • Musing

    I was thinking about a Rush track today. The Trees. I’ve not heard the rock yodelling of Geddy Lee in a yonk, but I used to love it as a teen. Anyway, I’m not so fond of this track. Not because it fails to rock, but because of the subject to which I believe it alludes. Allow me to elucidate;

    “There is trouble in the forest, unrest amongst the trees,

    For the maples want more sunlight, and the oaks ignore their pleas"

    …”So the maples formed a union and demanded equal rights”

    …”Now there’s no more oak oppression, for they passed a noble law,

    And the trees are all kept equal by hatchet, axe and saw.”

     

    A clear cut polemic against the unions and the scourge of socialism then. If there was such a thing as a meritocracy, or one that could survive more than one generation without nepotism and the special favour that wealth and power bestows, then maybe that would be a fair analogy, Mr Lee.

     

    Anywho, it struck me today, perhaps there is more to it than that.

    The maple is a symbol of Canada, the oak a symbol of Britain.

     

    Could this be Mr Lee’s acknowledgement of  the native superiority of we Brits, and a call to his countrymen to fight to remain part of the Empire?

     

    I think so.

     

    Buck.

    (PS The above entry was to wind-up my Canadian chum on Twitter. She didn’t over-react. *sigh*)

  • Running. You were warned.

    If you don’t want to read about one man’s struggle in the face of the insuperable; about sweat, blood, and grit (whilst humming the montage music from Rocky, preferably) look away now.

    *tumbleweed blows across blog*

    O.K., just me then. Still recording it for posterity.

     

    Before I went for my assessment weekend for the T.A.,in April I’d knocked out a few 1.8 mile runs. This I sporadically doubled up to my last blog entry  (June 13th) when I had managed one run of 7.2 miles. That was pretty heroic.

    I then started loosely following a training plan to get up to half marathon standard. The plan gave distances, but not speeds. Knowing nothing about it I was basing my time on the one person I knew who ran, a Twitter chum, @Suzywong30 who said a good speed would be about 8 minutes per mile. (To be fair she said that because on my shorter runs I thought I was averaging about 7½ minutes per mile.)

    The other snippet I gleaned was from the half marathon website where I read that up to a cut off point of 1 hour 40 minutes, you got an exact ranking and time in the race results. After that just position. The implication being, it seemed, that that was a respectable time, anything over than that was just ‘also ran’.

    The maths on that seem to say that if you are running over 7 minute 40 second miles, you are not going to get a time.

     

    So I was aiming for 8 minute miles as I built my stamina.

    It said on the plan to up your ‘long’ run by 1 mile a week. I was at 7 miles. I did an 8 miles, again nearly killing me.

    Then, fairly soon after I tried for a 9 mile run (that was the 10th July) which I was really pleased to have finished in 1 hour 13 minutes. I was nearly dead by the end of it, but just chuffed to get that far. The more I was running the more daunted I was becoming by the prospect of the full 13 miles.

    There’s only one way to get over that kind of apprehension, so on the 13th instead of the planned 4 mile warm up run I went the distance. 13 miles, 1 hour 46 minutes of graft. Go me!

     

    In less than 2 months I’ve gone from a sweaty, wheezing unfit bastard who could barely manage to run 1.8 miles, to a sweaty, wheezing unfit bastard who can barely run 13 miles! Yay!

     

    The twist in the tale came yesterday. Some other newbie runner was asking advice on a training plan. I suggested the plan I’d been loosely following, someone else came back with the BUPA training plan.They said it was better so I took a look.

     

    It says newbies should aim for a run time of about 11-12 minutes per mile, which you can knock down to 10-11 m/m if you want to as you progress, with a half marathon time of 2 hours 20 minutes to 2½ hours!

    ARE YOU HAVING A LAUGH?

    I’ve been nearly killing myself and thinking I was doing really crap. ( I lose, literally  3 lbs from when I get up in the morning to when I finish a 13 mile run! Just through sweating. Alas it’s not a miracle diet, you put it back on as soon as you’ve drank a gallon to re-hydrate.) I went out again the next week and got it down to 1hr 45mins, thinking I only had to knock a further 5 minutes off my time to begin to be a reasonable runner, then I saw that!

    To add further insult to near-death-experience, one of the experienced runners (ran the half marathon last year) was saying on the site he was going for a 2 hour 20 minutes run, following the 11½ minute/ mile pace setter!

    I’ll still be trying to get inside the 1 hour 40 minute bracket, but I won’t be overly ashamed if I miss it by a few minutes.

    So, that’s my running news. Sorry to have bored any with the stamina to have made it to this point.

     

    My Saxing is coming along apace. I’m still crap, but now I’m crap at stuff I would have wept at attempting 6 months ago.

     

    Work is still crap, but with the Tories in power I suppose I should be grateful I still have a job. They’ve already cut the funding to the Citizens Advice Bureau, and it’s looking like jobs will have to go. I don’t think Wendy will lose her job, but you never know. And that only the first round of cuts.

    And they are trying to cancel my work-experience placement in Afghanistan. Bloody Tories.

    I have my new dates for my T.A., training. I can’t see me having it done by the end of this year. It’s going to be tight trying to get all the boxes ticked and on a tour for next year. If I can, I will though.

     

    That’s about it. This is why I’ve not been blogging, nothing monumental is happening. The little day to day stuff I report as it happens on Twitter (@thegoodbuck if anyone wants to follow me on there.)

     

    Later,

    Buck.

  • Plans

    Stuff is happening again.

    Since I went away for that weekend to play soldiers everything has been up in the air. I have been having the same postal conversation with them over a form they sent me, requesting my employers details. Four times I’ve sent it to them. First by email and post, then by email twice more, and finally (I hope) by post again. The thing I failed to notice when my emails replies were coming through, was that the army’s firewall software had read my attachment as dubious and quarantined it.

    My bad.

    Hopefully that is sorted now.

     

    Then there is the ongoing issue of my basic training dates. Since I returned from that weekend I have arranged time off at work for the dates I wanted, but the army hasn’t confirmed I could train on those dates, or how indeed I could apply to train on those dates.

    At first I wasn’t worried, I had loads of time and there were other matters to sort out first, ID card, documents, etc.

    As the weeks have rolled by I’ve been getting nervous. Work are saying that there are only a few holidays left to book before October (but I couldn’t book any, in case I couldn’t get the desired dates and had to change courses) so they were going to be less than chuffed if I announced with days to go (it’s about 25 days until the start of my first choice course) that I didn’t want those two weeks after all, give me some others on fully booked dates.

     

    I got a ‘phone call on Friday of a Staff Sergeant responsible for recruit training saying I’d ‘slipped through the net’ and that he was going to make me his ‘personal project’. Apparently he’s going to email me tomorrow with all the course dates and will make sure I get whichever I want. Just email them back to him. That seems to be sorted.

     

    Which means I can try to book some civvy holidays now. Get on to that tomorrow.

     

    I got my tattoo done. It has come out a lot better than I anticipated. My favourite response being ‘Radical tattoo, dude. Kudos’ from someone on Twitter. That made me smile!

    Twitter 064

    It’s looking better and worse now. Not as black and shiny, but less taught.

    It’s been itching horribly for two days but thankfully that seems to being easing off now.

     

    The other thing I’ve been doing of late is getting into running.

    Well, jogging.

    Well, wheezing, shambling and staggering.

    Another chum from Twitter is a keen runner, (doing the Glasgow half marathon) and she’s been giving me some top tips and encouragement.

    About four or five ‘long’ runs ago I was looking at extending my 1.8 miles run to a 3.2 . This I did. The next long run I did two laps of the ‘short’ (1.8 miles) course, nearly killed me.

    Then I got my funky new really lightweight running top so decided to take it for a longer run. I set out, passed the 3.5 halfway mark and kept going to another landmark. I got there (after twenty minutes running) but was that shagged I had to rest for ten minutes before forcing myself to run back. That was horrible. Worse, when I worked it out on the google-maps-and-a-piece-of-string (patent pending) it was only 5.2 miles! I was gutted! That meant I ran a shorter distance, not extended it. 2.6 miles, collapse!

    The next run was on a cooler day and I did it there and back. Forty two minutes.

    So the next long run I extended it further. 7.2 miles, fifty seven minutes.

     

    Unfortunately I gave myself a sever blister within the first ten minutes which promptly burst. I tried slapping cream on it and wearing two pairs of socks, managed a ‘short’ run of half an hour, but that has made it worse. I’m resting it until it has healed properly before I start again. Research has shown that I should wear two pairs of thin socks and kick my heel into the back of the trainer before lacing properly. This should prevent further blisters.

     

    My plans now are to; heal, get a good programme going (with a hiatus for a week prior to army training) then run the Warrington half marathon on the 3rd of October. If I’m still into it, going to start some hill work, then enter the Windermere marathon next year. A full lap of Lake Windermere! Cool!

     

    So, things are happening at last! Yay!

     

    Buck.

  • Serendipity

    The T.A. Physical Training Instructor gave us all a brief before we left. He made a point of going on about buying decent trainers for running as your knees take an immense battering. At the time I was scornful. We used to do all of our running in Boots, Combat, High.

    O.K., so we had a lot of shin splints, and I tried to get Premature Voluntary Release because the pain in my knee was so unbearable, but that was 20 years ago and mainly forgotten. Besides, it was character building.

    I thought I was being a bit precious running in my old, flat soled, unsupported trainers.

    Twitter 069

    As you can see, not really high tech running shoes. I bought them whilst practising Taekwondo so I would have some lightweight footwear, the better to kick people in the head. As running shoes go, not really fit for purpose.

    Before I went to the T.A. assessment weekend I bought a cheap pair of Asda trainers, so I would have not-scruffy footwear in case the army was being sniffy.I wore them once, didn’t like them (I thought they were rubbing my toes) so never actually ran in them. I was looking at them earlier in the week, considering what the PTI had said about lots of padding on the heels to absorb the shock on the run. They fitted the bill so I went for a run to try them out.

    Revelation! The PTI and I were both right! It felt massively more comfortable running in trainers with padding and they rubbed like a bitch.

    Twitter 066

    Yesterday, being a day’s holiday, I went up town to the a sports shop. ‘Give me proper running shoes now Mr trainer pimp!’ I went in and my heart sank. The whole of the back wall of the shop was given over to row upon row of trainers.A myriad of different styles, presumably for different purposes, most I suspect just for Chavs to flash labels. Woe onto the Buckster. I was envisioning the scenario; ‘I want some running shoes’. ‘You must get these, here fill out the mortgage repayment plan, you’re so down with the Chavs.’

    A mild sense of panic was setting in as I wandered up and down the row. I ended up at the end of the section, as that was where the assistant was. She was serving some chap, so I looked on bewildered, like a stereotypical chick in a car showroom ‘ I like that one, it’s black.’ Anyway, this chap was umming and aarring, trying on different styles, sizes, half sizes etc. In short, he seemed to know what he doing.

    In desperation I said to him ‘you’re not a runner, are you?’

    He was! He’d just done the Manchester 10k, and was off to do the Glasgow full marathon! Joy! I asked him what I was supposed to be looking for in a running trainer, he said ‘Aasics’ or ‘Balance line’. “Anyone who’s anyone in running gets Aasics.” Spot on!

    As soon as he got served I tried on the trainers he chose(£75, but if that’s what it takes….), but found them a little constrictive, so I tried on a cheaper pair (a ‘mere’ £45) and they fit like a glove.

    I went for a run as soon as I could and even with tired legs from running the day before, and the above blood blister it was still wonderfully comfortable on my feet. I even knocked a minute off my run time!

    Go the new trainers!

     

    Twitter

    O.K., they are not black. And they are a bit in-your-face blinged-up Chav chic. But they are so fit for purpose!

     

    The observant amongst you (I pluralise, optimistically) will have noticed I said yesterday was a day’s holiday. ‘’surely not, Bucky’ I hear you cry, ‘a random day off in the middle of the week?’

    Yes. My reasons were four-fold. I initially wanted the day off because I had an interview for the Tesco’s warehouse job. To which I went (got lost, was five minutes late. Standard procedure, then.) Started off the interview on the wrong foot as well. The interviewer asked ‘so why Tesco’s’ I replied, ‘Because of your fleet of trucks, start in the warehouse, maybe move over to driving’ he said ‘the logistics are done by Stobbarts for Tesco’s’

    Shit.

    Not sure I want the job if offered, it will depend on their attitude towards my T.A. stuff.

     

    Reason two; I rang the doctors again on Monday about my blood group test. Again. Got put on to the nurse who had taken my blood the week before. She said she wasn’t sure about the procedure, or who to contact so she was going to  talk to the practice manager and leave a message on my home ‘phone. I got in from work, checked, no message. Rang the surgery, the receptionist said they are not allowed to leave messages on answer machines due to patient confidentiality, and it was the practice managers day off! Got a bit miffed, said the nurse didn’t know her arse from her elbow and that the army wanted my blood group last week!

    Nothing doing,

    She rang me back an hour later, just as I was settling down to an afternoon nap (I’d had three hours kip the night before, so was feeling it) to say they had sorted it, but the nurse was only in Wednesday and Friday mornings. When I was at work. I said Wednesday in the hope I could get my holiday approved. She said to come in at 9.50 (I wrote it down).

    Went in yesterday at 9.50, she said “What are you doing here? We rang you yesterday to tell you to take the form to the hospital. And your appointment was for 8.50.”

    By this time I was, luckily, beyond anger. I just laughed incredulously. She said whilst I was here they’d fit me in. So I had my blood taken. Again. Now I just have to wait and see if it works this time. I’m paying £10 for the privilege.

    Reason three; Wendy is working four days a week now, with Wednesday off, so it was nice to have a day off together.

    Reason four; I hate my job and any day away is worth taking.

     

    Today is my day off. The sun is shining, all is groovy. Got to do the shopping, maybe go for another run, price up a tattoo, sax lesson this afternoon, Kung Fu tonight. Apart from the shopping, all good stuff.

    Oh, a chap on twitter pointed this out yesterday

    Which led me to this sublime hundred seconds;

     

    The lesson for today is ‘(Aasics) trainers good, boots bad’.

    Later,

    Buck.

  • What I did on my holidays.

    Hi all, not posted for ages as I didn’t have anything definite to say.

    I was trying to get into the T.A., but had many doubts as to whether I’d make it. I have had encouraging noises from several driving agencies, but as is the law with agencies, nothing has come of it.

    I’ve applied for Tesco’s as a warehouseman, just to escape the crapness of my current job, not heard from that either.

    So nothing actually happening to blog about it.

    Well, nothing changing. I was still being sent to the freezer to work in these conditions;

    Thus engendering happiness of this order;

    My Kung Fu has been progressing apace. I took my first assessment and passed it, though not with any elan. Not without a bit of commitment either, for that matter;

    But as for any change for the better in my driving career, nada.

    This weekend it all changed. I had my assessment for the T.A.

    As I say I really doubted whether I could get in, right on the limit for age (too old in 27 days, that’s how on the limit I actually am!) medical record from last time I served stating ‘temperamentally unsuited for military service’ or words to that effect. No actual driving experience, being a codger therefore too old to meet the fitness requirements, etc.

    I booked some holidays (hence the title of this entry) and trotted off.

    Bloody hell! The first night there, me and about fifteen other lads (and they were lads, most teens and early twenties) in one room, bunk beds, army horse blankets. It was a total flashback to twenty years ago in basic training. I hated it then, and I was hating it from memory straight away.

    To add to my misery we were all marched (I say ‘marched’, they weren’t allowed to march us anywhere, we were put into three ranks and ‘ambled’) to the NAAFI bar. I don’t drink any more, so that was a trial in itself.

    Obviously I didn’t get much sleep, everyone tossing and turning, snoring, and all the kids getting texts and such on their mobiles in the middle of the night. Then, being newbies, they were getting up at 5.45, when we didn’t have to get up until 6.15.

    Had about three hours kip.

    Less than loving it on the Saturday then.

    From 5.45 until end of last lesson at 8pm. Bollocksed.

    Anyway, we did team building exercises and such and I was a lot happier by the end of the day, back in army mode.

    We did lots of test, and I was the second highest (that I know of) scoring person. The highest scorer was an A&E doctor, so not too shabby from me.

    It was all hanging on the 1½ mile run, which I had to complete in under 14 minutes. Not too harrowing. Just a matter of focusing your chi and putting one foot in front of the other. So I thought. The uncertainty lay in the fact that I’d used google maps and a bit of string to guesstimate my training distance.

    Not the most accurate of methods. I’d done a dozen or so runs on grass (harder on the leg muscles, easier on the knees) and thought my time was about 13 or so minutes.

    When we did the run it was on a tarmac road.

    We went out in a gaggle, then he set us off. We weren’t allowed watches so I was looking for anyone who had been regularly achieving 12s. Nobody had.

    Set off at my own pace and found, to my dismay, that I was in the front group of five lads. I kept with them for the first half mile, but was worrying about my stamina so I ignored them and set my own pace. I had an ex Gurkha Infantryman just behind me, so I thought if I keep in front of him I’ll easily pass.

    I turned the last corner, onto a 200 yard straight, the first four had spread out and the lead guy had already finished, when some young lad came charging past me.

    I considered giving chase, but apparently when you finish your basic you have to match or beat your initial time, so their was no incentive (other than competitive pride) to do so. So I came in 6th out of 20, with a time of 10m 41s! Or, to put it in perspective, better than 13 younger people (turns out the Ex Gurkha was 44) and better than I did in my basic training 20 years ago!

    In passing got to mention the doctor. She was determined. Apparently she was a bit of a porker, the army said she had to lose weight before they’d even let her apply, so she’d lost five stones! On the run it was clear her fitness was no great shakes, but through sheer force of will she managed to get across the line in 13m 40s. She was absolutely twatted after it. She just collapsed. They  ordered her to stand up, and she tried, but she just couldn’t. I don’t think I ever seen such force of will!

    In conclusion, by the end of the weekend I was had done enough to be eligible for any job in the Royal Logistics Corps. I stuck with ‘driver’, it’s what I need right now. It seems that it’s easy to transfer regiments when you are ‘in’.

    I got sworn in on the Sunday and as well as my Oath Of Allegiance got this;

    Oh yes! Who needs a hoody for street cred?

    Suppose it will look more suitable when I get all my hair chopped off. *sighs*

    Oh, final note, there was another Nepalese geezer there, son of (and uncle of, brother of, grandson of etc) a Gurkha, who was dying of throat infection and cold (still passed his run) and he gave me his lurgy. Dammit, never free from infection, me.

    Slept like a brick last night, and apart from the shittiness of this new bug, am all refreshed and back to civvy mode.

    Things are happening.

    Buck.

    PS, forgot to mention, there has been a total change of function of the T.A. since I was a regular. S.T.A.B.’s they used to be called (Stupid T.A. Bastards), probably still are. In those days though, you did T.A. at the weekends, and were never going to be mobilised except as a last resort. Now they train you and mobilise you when you are needed. They said they can’t force you to mobilise in the first three years of T.A. service, but that is your job. If you’re not willing to go to war you are in the wrong job, really. I would do a tour. Just one. Fair’s fair. I’m getting what I want out of it, it’s only fair I do the job for which I am being paid. Also the guy said all drivers get HazMat (hazardous materials) training which I would cost over £400 in civvy street, and for the learning of I will be paid! Bonus!

    PPS, whilst I was away for the weekend I have been eating meat again! Not only because I have got back into the killing game, thereby abandoning all pretence of morals or ethics, but out of practical considerations. It has been my experience that in the army if you don’t eat what you are given, you don’t eat.

    Bad Bucky.