Category: Life

Just a quick update.

I went to the induction for my new job. 3 hours of signing off on papers you haven’t read and ticking all the H&S boxes. They have changed the pay structure, 50p per hour more, no overtime rate. Just done a quick calculation, say 52½ hour week, take off ½ hour per day for break, so 50 hours. Old rate, £520, new rate £515. And it used to be more for Saturday, plus time and a third for any overtime, that’s now flat rate as well. Sundays are £14, flat rate.

They wouldn’t have changed it if it didn’t cost them less.

Anyway, that’s a bit shitter.

After the induction they were keen to get me started, Mon-Fri, every other Sunday.

It’s the days aspect and the guaranteed work that appeals.

So they said they’d text me with a time for a driving assessment by 19.00 hrs. They didn’t. The next day I got one asking could I make the assessment at 017.00. I turned up  and there was a Polish lad from the previous day’s induction there. Which meant two drivers for one assessor. An immediate fail. The security guard had no idea we were supposed to be there and couldn’t raise anyone on the ‘phone. We went and sat in the canteen. An hour late we were still waiting when two other drivers arrived for their 18.00hrs assessments. At 18.15 the assessor turned up. The company, desperate to recruit drivers, changed their M.O. to give a contract they are that keen to secure drivers, keen to give a good first impression, were that tight they wouldn’t even allocate the assessor a shift to assess, with at least 4 drivers booked in, they had him out doing runs as well!

The guy said “I’m going out on another run lads, so I can’t assess you both. If one of you wants to come out with me I can assess you then.”

He wanted one of us to go and drive with him while he did a full shift. Until at least 03.00hrs. Unpaid. He said “This is transport, lads. You can either come out with me or wait until we can fit you in for another assessment.”

No mate, we all work in transport. This isn’t transport what this is, is a piss take.

I walked out.

I’m calm now. I was furious at the time. I said “I’ve been here over an hour already, I’ve got a sick mrs at home in bed…”  The main transport manager was hovering over his shoulder, presumably to see if we had a can-do attitude. I cared not a whit.

Anyway, the texted me the next day and asked “Can you start on Friday?”

No assessment.

FFS!

And she said it’s more likely to be dinner time starts, as opposed to mornings. The two start times I’ve got so far are Friday 18.00hrs (not dinner time) then Sunday 03.30hrs (way not dinner time) so Saturday, my day off, is going to be spent in bed.

I’ll give it a few weeks to see how it goes, but I’ve already applied for another job. If anything else come up, permanent or temp to perm, same sort of money, I’ll be applying.

See you how goes.

Oh, and as I mentioned above, Wendy is as sick as a dog. She is gutted. She’s only been back to work for seven weeks after ten months off and she’s been sent home sick.

In the 19 years we’ve been together neither of us has ever been this ill. It’s a full-on ‘flu thing. She was freezing when she came in, I chucked her in bed and cuddled her for body heat. Her teeth were literally chattering and she was hurting from her muscles tensing with the cold. It took her ages to warm up (I was sweating like a pig!) then later when I used the digi-thermometer on her she was 103.6 F That’s not good.

She’s been like it for three days now, shaking with cold and boiling and throwing up. And moaning. So much moaning. Again, it’s me who’s the real victim in all of this.

To cheer her up in her moribund state I’ve set her up an eBay and Amazon account on her tablet and showed her how to shop for shoes and a handbag.

I’m hoping I don’t get it. It really does look awful. I can’t see how I could work through that and with me just starting a new job an’ all…, not good.

Anywho, this was supposed to be a quick one.

Later,

Buck.

I’ve had enough of nights and the uncertainty of agency work. I’ve applied for the full time, days, job at Hermes. I have my induction on Monday. I did the maths, it’s been exactly half a year and I took home £11,856. If you take off the two weeks I would have had as holidays if I’d been PAYE it’s an average of £420 p/w take home. Hermes are promising a minimum of 45 hours per week, with thing like time and a third for anything over 8 hours, overtime more or less written into the job, extra for working weekend shifts, etc. I reckon on a 50 hour week I’ll be taking home at least the same. Plus it’s days. And I can take holidays. If you lose a week’s pay you just end up working and working. I think I’ve had two weeks holiday in the two and a half years I’ve been self employed/ Limited Company. I’ve had months, in total, sat around unpaid waiting for work, but that isn’t a holiday. You can’t relax, you can’t do anything, plan anything, or afford anything.

If I wanted serious big bucks they have the option of a pound an hour more for nights, plus another pound or so for Limited Company, so you earn more and get stopped less tax, but that’s the same shit I’m in now.

I’m willing to trade pound per hour for day shift and secure hours per week.

Plus, as my chum on Twitter asked, ‘why are they suddenly offering a real job?’

Is it because now you need to have a driver’s CPC card there are less qualified drivers? Are all the new warehouses being built around Burtonwood offering better jobs? Something has changed.

My point being, if this doesn’t work out as my ideal job I can look for other, full time, days, jobs. It is a pity about Walkers, mind. If there had been any prospect of me getting on to days or being taken on full time I’d have hung in there. It’s great money and an easy, no stress job. But there are lads there who’ve been on the agency for years and not got full time out of it. And I’ve found out they jacked me out on that nights out gig. Apparently it is running, with agency lads, but they wouldn’t give me a sniff because they have trouble filling the night shift, so they only let the day lads play. That was a blow.

Nights are killing me at the minute, I just can’t get the sleep. The neighbours noisy kids on school holidays, the heat and just generally not sleeping well in the day.

 

I forgot to mention in my last blog, what with the concussion and all, but since I have stopped trying to adjust my gait to avoid injury my injury has got a lot better. *sour face*

I did a 20 mile run last Sunday. The first 10 miles were my old, road, course. At the 4-5 point there is a slow incline then a bit of proper hill. I set off at a fair clip, by current standards, at about 8.20 m/m. Recently I’ve been starting at about 9 m/m and dropping off at the end of long runs. Also, on the occasions I’ve tried my 10 mile road course I’ve been dying on the hill. This time I dug in and went up it faster ! Then I kept it to below 9m/m. I averaged out at 8.36 over 20 miles. And I even had enough left to race the last half mile as some runner was chasing me.

I threw away the Cone of Shame and patted myself firmly on the back. I’m back in the game.

Ha! Just been out for another 20 miles run. Gawd bless the arse end of hurricane Bertha. I did two road laps of 10 miles, the first one I was about 3 miles in and suddenly the rain turned into a deluge. “A vertical sea with slots in” to quote Terry Pratchett. I was drenched to the bone, on the way back I was wringing my top out and my trainers were twice as heavy. But I was managing a slightly sub 8 m/m average! I came in and got totally changed, picked up a new water bottle loaded up with energy powder (the legal kind) and went back out. My GPS watch said the next mile took me 13 minutes, because of the 5 minute pit stop. I have to find out how you pause it. Anyway, sure that that wasn’t right I paid attention to my next mile speed. 7.55, then 8.02, then 7.55. This was on my second lap, into the teeth of Bertha blowing a gale. I was totally impressed with myself. Then on mile 14-15 I saw a runner ahead. PREY! I pounced. I picked up the speed and passed them before turning around. Somehow I managed to keep the pace going though. 7.44, 7.47, 7.41, 7.47, then for the last mile I still had enough left in the tank to open up the pace and do a 7.30!  Overall average of 7.59 m/m. That’s quite a chunk to take out 8.36 m/m in a week.

It’s not marvellous but it’s hugely encouraging.. If I can do the last 5 miles at that speed I should really be able to do the first 15.  At the very least it’s a massive personal improvement.

 

Btw, re the crash, I had another look and it was a perfect storm of shitiness. It was dark and bone dry, I was concentrating on the lights, only watching the road out of my peripheral vision, and the section before the lights changed from black tarmac to yellow high grip road, so the sand didn’t stand out. Ace.

 

I’m sure there are other things I should be mentioning, after my last blog I remembered I’d not mentioned the running get better. My head is a bit out of it now, post run.

I’ll do a brief one tomorrow probably to say how the induction went, can fill in any omissions then.

Later,

Buck.

I’m using that as a metaphor, btw. I find it fascinating that one cannot remember pain. You remember the sweats, the swearing, thinking death would be a mercy, but you can’t remember what the pain felt like.

So it was with crashing my lovely, lovely motorcycle.

Not the pain (metaphor remember? Pay attention at the back.) but the feeling of being fully alive. I’d forgotten. Or rather remembered as one remembers pain. I took it as a truism, that while “the prospect of being hanged focuses the mind wonderfully” it is nothing like as focusing as the reality of imminent pain and possibly sudden, violent death.

And then, your front end is skipping around at stupid speeds and you are heading into a roundabout at stupid speeds unable to break. Suddenly it all comes back to you. However briefly.

I can see why in my feckless youth I pursued that experience. There is nothing quite like it. You either live or die, but you are 100% alive until then.

I can’t say I’m as fond now, in my later years. The pain and damage to my bike don’t seem worth it. But it is a hell of a rush.

In case you’re wondering what the hell I’m on about, I’ll start from the beginning.

I was riding to work on Friday night. It was 23.20, no traffic, bone dry roads, ideal conditions in other words. I was chugging along in a 40 zone, I saw the traffic lights were on green so I blipped the throttle to get to them before they changed. I was focused on the lights, no traffic, no worries. I saw I was going to make it through the lights so I went to jam on the brakes, only to find some utter bastard of a lorry driver had shed half of his load of sand on the road. It was 2 inches thick, loose dry sand. The front end started skipping about like crazy so I had to let the brakes off or crash. I hung on as I skipped over the sand, miraculously staying upright but by the time I had regained control I was still going too fast with the width of one lane between me and the roundabout. I had time to think “this is going to hurt”, *island amnesia* over the handlebars landed on my head, thought “dead”, *island amnesia* put head up looked around, on roundabout, put head back down *pain* “how’s my bike?”

Odd. The calm “this is going to hurt”, the equally calm “dead” when I thought I was going to snap my neck, then no continuity like “ooh, not dead” Or “my that smarts” just; aware of the pain, “how’s my bike?”

Anyway, the good new is I just bent my brake pedal and bent my handlebars a bit, and snapped something off my helmet. And grazed one engine casing. Nothing too serious.

Buggered both my wrists and bashed my groin badly. And battered my ribs. And generally hurt everywhere. But nothing I couldn’t ride away with.

Funny because a car following me had lost control on the sand. The driver stopped and helped me pick my bike up (buggered wrists) while his passenger called the police. I was checking my bike then I rang in work to say I was going to be 10 minutes late as I’d crashed and the bike was flooded.

They were saying “Are you OK? Do you want to have tonight off?” I didn’t know why they were making a fuss. Then I went to ride off, the car driver said “Are you OK,I don’t want you getting around the corner then going in to shock.” I said “Don’t worry, I’m used to it.”

Here is the sand spill;

 

Down the middle of the picture. Well deep, just where I was trying to brake.

Not too bad damage, I was lucky.

The brake pedal valiantly took one for Team Buck’s Bike.

Here is the before and after shot:

The top one being the new one I got as a replacement.

I tried to head off Wendy’s inevitable worried tirade of I-TOLD-YOU-SO’s with a soothing email:

Hi honey bunny, 
Bit of an incident on the way to work last night. But it totally wasn’t my fault. Well, 90% not my fault. At least 85% not my fault. Look, let’s not quibble about where to apportion blame, or who predicted what to whom,  dwelling on such irrelevant petty details is frankly beneath us. Let us just draw a line under it and move on.
What happened was: I charged up to the traffic lights, went to brake and some lorry driving twat had dumped a 2" thick layer of sand right across the lane. I had to let the brake off and just cling on for dear life. Amazingly I kept it upright, but I was carrying way too much speed into the roundabout. Ended up lay in the roundabout.
Luckily it was soft grass so I’ve got away with slightly bent handlebars and a bent brake lever.
As far as I could tell. I’ll have a proper look in daylight.
Anyway, the lesson to be learned here is lorry drivers are all bastards.
It was a shitload of sand, the car behind me lost it as well.
Hope you are well,
Love,
Buck. xx

 

Which brings me to handlebars. A whole other story of pain and anguish.

As they are slightly bent, but feel massively wrong, I decided to replace them. The standard one were £70 but aftermarket, cafe racer style one’s were only £34. No brainer. Bought me some funky new bars and started the journey to cafe racer. I got the clubman style bars as you can just put them straight into the clamps the bike already has. Clip-on, the full-on cafe racer style bars attach the fork leg, leaving the clamps empty and ugly, thus necessitating buying an new £200, headstock without the clamps. That is later. For now the compromise bars.

So I got them. Utterly groovy. Check them out.

Which look like this in situ

Awesome.

Except the 7/8” inch (22mm) bars, as it says in the manual, and I therefore bought, are on the original bars 7/8” at the ends where the grips go, but 1” (25mm) where the control levers and clamps go. Super.

So I improvised, adapted and overcomed. As per army training. Cut up a jubilee clip and used that as a ‘shim’ (I think that’s an American word, but I’ve not seen the equivalent on any UK sites.) to fill the gap. Right, that’s that sorted. Then the controls won’t. I could tighten them fully, then you couldn’t turn the throttle or have them loose enough to use the throttle and the whole thing swivelled around the handlebars. After much swearing and experimenting I realised there is a little post on the inside of the controls and a corresponding hole drilled into the original bars.  It was getting late so I left it until today to do that. Luckily. As when I put it together I noticed the bars, due to that funky design of the crossbar being welded onto the handlebar bits, was too short. The grips overhung the bars by 1½- 2 “. That means you can’t put the stoppers in the ends, or in my case bar end mirrors, and the left hand hand grip would just slide off. Not good for safety reasons.

Buggery and tarnation.

So I’ve had to buy some slightly less groovy bars and put the others on ebay.

You see how there’s no overlap of cross bar to handlebar? No room lost on the handlebar. I’m hoping that does the trick.

So all in all it’s been… eventful, bike-wise.

 

In other news I’m thinking of sacking Walkers off and going back to Hermes.

In an ideal world I would stick it out and get a full time day job at Walkers, but they have jacked me out of that nights-out gig (start in the morning, work all day, sleep in cab, work next day driving back)  in favour of day lads. This is, after all, the shift they can’t fill, so they want to keep me on it.

Hermes have changed their tune. They are now offering full time positions, guaranteed 45 hours per week minimum hours, with lots of overtime available. Uniform, contract, set start times, days, holiday pay.

It’s not as much per hour (£10.50 first 8 hours, £14 after, £15 weekends) but it’s a proper job. They offer more for Ltd Co and nights. But you either want good pay per hour or guaranteed pay per week.

And I’m willing to take a bit of hit to get back on days. I don’t love nights. Especially not these nights where I’m starting at 23.45 hrs.

And then have a night off. Then at weekends starting at 19.00. You just can’t get into a proper regular sleep pattern. And with us actually getting a summer this year I’m baking in bed and I can’t open the windows because it’s school holidays… All in all, not loving it.

I thought I was getting depressed again the other day. Really low and anxious on a few occasions. Then I fired my bike into the scenery and suddenly I was fine again. Better than Electro Convulsive Therapy.

 

In, knock me down with a feather, spank my arse and call me Charlie, news, Wendy is getting into technology!

I gave her my old ‘phone when I upgraded.

She didn’t use it for ages. Then she started taking it out to call taxis. Then she realised she could google stuff, and I showed her how to text, then email. She’s all over that shit now.

Got here a belated birthday present of a Nexus 7 tablet the other day. She’s loving it.

I KNOW!

 

Anwho, best get ready for work. *sigh*

Later,

Buck.

Still loving my bike.

It is bloody lovely. After I’d blogged last time I thought of a few things I should have added. For one thing I do seem to have learned restraint. In the past I’d tootle along until someone was in my way then I’d blast past them. And the one in front of them. I was a Pringle overtaker, once I’d popped I just couldn’t stop. Until Mr Plod had a word or I was picking the remains of my bike up. It was great fun, but not conducive to long periods of safe motorcycling. Anyway, I said about finding the torque-y part of the rev range on the same ride as I came off the motorway a BMW tried to pass me on the inside. I was feeling a bit sporty so I held him off. Then we came up behind an artic (bastard lorry drivers!) and I thought “let’s see you do this, sunshine”, I could have blasted down the separation zone, the foot or so wide bit painted down the middle to keep the traffic apart. This would have left me with millimetres to spare if a lorry had turned up the other way. This would not have even been a consideration before, I would have shot past and any potential oncoming traffic would have to make way or kill me.

I di the unthinkable; I dropped off the revs and sat behind the lorry! Nothing came the other way, so I could have done it, but strangely I didn’t care.

I’m still not too concerned about crashing and dying horribly, I’m just terrified of smashing up my lovely bike.

So that’s good.

I spotted some groovy gauntlets on ebay. My gloves are mad hot and not gauntlets. I’m of the old school. Gauntlets are what you wear on a motorcycle.

Check that out for groovy! Half way to my elbow, thick but pliant leather with wool lining.

When I convert it to a cafe racer I’m going to go the whole hog and get an open face helmet and goggles. And a white scarf. And boots with buckles. I’m drawing the line at turned up blue jeans though.

Just looking and I am tempted by a modern take on the open face helmet. You know those pilot’s helmets with the slide down darkened visor/ sunglasses thing? That.

Look

I don’t know. I think the goggles and helmet look wins out if you can get it to work. The last time I had it the goggles were too big, wouldn’t fit in the helmet open face, so were totally useless.

Try before I buy next time. If the goggles don’t work the above is an option.

 

You know the ongoing saga of my shin injury?

I thought it might be related to my over-pronation, ie rolling my foot outwards as I run. Obviously this puts undue strain on things. And I had that massive injury when I tried to rush the conversion to forefoot striking (natural running). My trainers for over-pronation correction boast that they don’t do it by sticking a spike in your instep to stop you, but by guiding your foot from heel to toe in a corrected style.

Adding all this up, in my ill informed and utterly half-arsed manner, I concluded that for my trainers to work, thereby correcting my over-pronation, thus preventing further injury, I should heel strike. My natural tendency is for more of a forefoot strike, but I’ve been forcing my head back to make my foot reach further and heel strike.

I did one run last week on tarmac at a relatively good pace and my shin was miserable again.

In despair I put it to the Twitter hivemind: “Doing everything; running slow, on grass, heel striking… help!”

Someone got back saying “How’s your gait? Over striding and heel striking can injure your shins.”

WHAT?!

I did an easy 5 mile run yesterday (before that conversation) and my shins were still hurting. Today I was down for a 17 mile run. As I had nothing to lose I thought I’d abandon my ‘corrected’ gait and run naturally, which is more forefoot striking. 17 pretty constant, relatively brisk miles and my shin was fine.

*death from headdesk*

Months I’ve been trying everything and anything to stop the injury getting worse but it’s possible I was actually causing it.

Once again the irony gods piss on my cornflakes.

That was only one run so let’s not get too excited, but it was my longest run in many months, at a reasonable speed (by current standards) and my legs were good to carry on at the end. That is something. A big something.

The slight downside to my jubilation was the fact today was the Outlaw. From which I withdrew, wisely as it turns out, but still…

Now I’m starting to think triathlon again. Oh dear, oh dear.

 

Work has picked up. 5 days straight last week, already pestering people to do extra shifts next week. This is good. Last week was a trial though, every day as I got in the bedroom was like an oven. By the end of the week I’d thrown caution to the wind and was leaving the window wide open for a draught. The kids didn’t wake me too much. Not looking forward to summer holiday sprogs.

Wendy is back to her full hours as of last week, they reckon she’s back up to speed now so she’s being set loose on her clients as of tomorrow. She’s dying for it. To get back to what she knows and does well, rather than having people setting her computer tasks (with which she struggles) and constantly looking over her shoulder. I gave her my old ‘phone a while back. Bit by bit she’s got dragged into the 21st century. She’s realised she can watch stuff on it and google stuff. I’ve shown her how to text people. There is no stopping her now. She sent a text last week. Not even a reply, she went to contacts and texted from there. Go Wendy!

Now I just have to sneak a Twitter account on there for her and she’ll fully integrate into the Collective.

 

Right, I’m buggered now.

I will get around to catching up on Twitter for you, not tonight though.

Later,

Buck.

Just a quick one to say all is well and better than.

Last week I was on the verge of quitting my super-duper job and going back to a mass stress, treated like shit one that provided regular hours. I’d had three shifts the week before, one shift that week. I was giving it until the end of this week then applying. Then I had five days on the trot working. This week, the last three days, have been long hours. I’m on for a £600- £700 week this week. I was looking at £800 plus but they stood me down yesterday. Apparently the Southern depot start doing the spud runs to Cornwall from now so they are maxed-out doing that, meaning loads of work for everyone else. And then it’s the holiday season, so the driver I was talking to reckons there will be work aplenty for the next three months. That will do nicely.

I love this job but I needed more work. And here it is. Yay!

 

Then there’s the running. Following my training plan I’m now half way through week 5, (of 16 to marathon) I did a 15 mile run for my end of week ‘big’ run, and my injuries are no worse. My shins still hurt a bit. Enough to make me nervous they are about to go again, but so far they are holding out. 19 runs in 4½ weeks and still not broken.  Fingers crossed.

 

Wendy is doing the last day of her phased return to work tomorrow, after that she’s back to her regular hours next week. This is good. She has been freaking out as they’ve upgraded the system so instead of hand writing everything then inputting it into the PC later they just do it straight into the computer as they client tells them. She’s not best clever with computers. ‘Crap’ springs to mind, unbidden. So it’s been freaking her, but I think she’s sussed it now. And they are having her refresh her specialist skills in benefits as well as debt, she’s going to be doing two days a week Specialist Debt Advisor, two as a Specialist Benefits Advisor.

Benefits are not her favourite, but in these uncertain times hers is the most most secure job there now. Even if they lay off all the paid staff and go back to being a volunteer only branch (because they lose all the government funding, could well happen) she is then the most qualified for a job in other sectors, such as housing trusts.

 

But all this is a sideline, a mere added bonus to the win-fest that is the bike! (Wendy still doesn’t thinks so.)

It’s beyond lovely. I’ve already tensioned the chain, changed the plugs, cleaned the air filter, downloaded a digital workshop manual and looked up other stuff. Today I was off so I took some parts I’d ordered (two tiny washers and a new air filter) and did an internet fix. Apparently Kawasaki designed the bike with a 3½-5 thousand rev flat spot (so that it would pass the emissions test). I’d been riding it and was content riding up to the flat spot then changing up a gear. It wasn’t awesome performance but it was nice. They guy doing the online review said it handled like his Bonnie after 5 thousand revs but I wasn’t thrashing it. Then I revved through the flat spot accelerating to merge onto the motorway. Holy crap! She upped and flew, I was having to haul in the speed in seconds.

Anyway, apparently the fix for the flat spot is to strip the carbs, remove the needle thing, put these tiny little washers on the needle, reassemble and job’s a good ‘un. I read the online instructions and it looked like I was going to be fiddling about all day with it. I did it this morning. It took me less than an hour. And I replaced the air filter with a new genuine Kawasaki one while I was at it.

I took it for a test ride afterwards. The ‘fix’ was so suspiciously simple I thought I must have done something wrong. But no, pulls like a train from any revs now.  I picked up a plod so was tootling along at dead on 30mph, I got to a 60mph section, flick of the wrist and instantly doing 60!  Awesome.

It’s not a Japanese 4 cylinder race bike, the front wheel is not in the air every time you open her up, but it’s more than enough to make you smile. And it’s delivered in the classic twin cylinder fashion; a brutal thump and roar of power.

Also my log book arrived today.

6 previous owners. Averaging 19 months per owner, 2,833 miles each. And none of them had bought and fitted the 2 washers that fix the flat spot. I’ve ridden 533 miles in 16 days, serviced it and got it riding properly.

Next jobs are to check the ignition timing, the valve clearances and the carb balance. Then just to upgrade the springs in the front suspension and get new rear shock absorbers. That’s as tight as it’s going to get as a ‘standard’ bike.

After that it’s cafe racer!

This is all in the future. First and foremost I have to pay for the bike itself.

If work is in a 3 months frenzy that should more or less cover it. Once we are out of debt again it won’t matter if I get a few short weeks. The three day week with minimum hours per shift was still £330 take home.

If we don’t have to pay anything off that’s more than enough to get by on.

Anyway, I thought I’d do a blog where everything is groovy. Nothing to whine and bitch about. It feels good. And novel.

 

I’ve still not got around to doing the Twitter update, I’ll do it soon. To be honest with the longer shifts, on nights, I’m not getting on there that much.

Right, bedtime.

Later,

Buck.