Today saw TP's first match at his new rugby club.
We warned him that he was the "new kid" and could not expect to make the starting line up having only attended one training session prior to the game. He was a sub for the first half and his new team managed two tries and one conversion to the opponents solitary try.
The second half started 12:7 in TP's team favour and TP was playing at Left Wing. The opposition kicked off and the ball was heading in TP's direction. He caught it cleanly and headed out towards the half way line. A group of backs converged on TP and he went to the ground passing the ball back to hit new team mates. Nothing spectacular but no mistakes - a solid start.
He had a few good tackles including one that saw his victim leave the ground and fly through the air as TP took him off his legs. Later in the match one of the Props had to go off with a knee injury and TP showed his versatility by moving over to the forwards and played as Hooker for the rest of the match.
Unfortunately TP's team let another couple of tries and a conversion through so the final score was 19: 12. Not a bad first game though and a fair score considering the strength of the opposition.
He can't have been too bad as the head coach "high fived" him after the match - as I said - a good start.
The weather was beautiful today and greatly appreciated after yesterday's damp squib. I took advantage of it and wheeled the Vespa out of the garage for quick spin to blow away the cobwebs. The roads were dry and reasonably clear as I went out through Bidford on Avon through to Stratford and then back in a loop.
The weather has been forecast to be cool and dry this week so hopefully I can get another run or two in before the weather turns. I know that I am a fair weather biker and am not afraid to admit it. There is no fun riding on wet, greasy roads with the added perils of wet leaves, ice etc as Autumn changes to Winter.
I have had my fill of soaking rides through rain and frozen fingers in the ice and snow when a bike was my only form of transport. Mind you, those rides do stick in your mind and you do have a sense of achievement at the end of a ride through disgusting weather. That is the thing about a bike every ride is a journey.
Back home, 30% and I took T&M out for a walk and then I had a quick blast round the lawn with the mower as the grass had finally dried.
Dinner, a glass of wine and a little TV will finish the weekend off nicely.
Showing posts with label Vespa. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Vespa. Show all posts
Sunday 10 October 2010
Wednesday 4 August 2010
Yesterday's News
Things at work are slowing down as I complete the hand over of my current workload to a colleague.
This meant that I was able to take a lunch break and nip in to town to the auto-bank. Not particularly newsworthy, I'll admit, but on this occasion a lack of time pressures meant that I could take the dust sheet off the Vespa and take a slightly more extended route than is normal. It is somewhat frustrating that I have only just got her back to a roadworthy and road legal state and am about to have a hand operation that is likely to keep me off her for a good few weeks while it heals.
Moving on, Tuesday evening is dog training night. TP is off for a few days with his Mum so 30% stood in as Marauder's Handler and off we went to class....
... what a disaster that was! The normal trainer was off having had an operation on her foot and a replacement had been found - Trainer. not foot - talk about chalk and cheese! It was a nightmare - the key to dog training is consistency and repetition - this woman was contradictory, very poor at describing what she wanted from the class and unwilling to go with the approach that the normal trainer has. As a consequence I was confused so God only knows what Tyson and Marauder thought of it all.
It wasn't just me either. 30% had to bite her tongue on a couple of occasions and we saw a few "looks" from other members too. After the class we tend to take the dogs for a quick run round the park in case they need a pee before the drive home. This gave us the opportunity for a bitching session with a few other members and in true team spirit we decided that the new trainer was piss poor and it was a good job Brenda is only off for a couple of weeks.
A few of us decided to throw a "sicky" next week and return to classes once Brenda is fit and able. That might seem a bit extreme but I learned how much I enjoy dog training and how much of that enjoyment was dissipated by a replacement trainer who seemed to think that the current approach is incorrect and needs a new strategy.
That is all well and good so long as you win Hearts and Minds and can take the Group along to this Brave New World. Unfortunately that was the flaw with her plan. There was nothing wrong with the old approach and if it ain't broke don't fix it - especially if you are only standing in for a couple of weeks.
This meant that I was able to take a lunch break and nip in to town to the auto-bank. Not particularly newsworthy, I'll admit, but on this occasion a lack of time pressures meant that I could take the dust sheet off the Vespa and take a slightly more extended route than is normal. It is somewhat frustrating that I have only just got her back to a roadworthy and road legal state and am about to have a hand operation that is likely to keep me off her for a good few weeks while it heals.
Moving on, Tuesday evening is dog training night. TP is off for a few days with his Mum so 30% stood in as Marauder's Handler and off we went to class....
... what a disaster that was! The normal trainer was off having had an operation on her foot and a replacement had been found - Trainer. not foot - talk about chalk and cheese! It was a nightmare - the key to dog training is consistency and repetition - this woman was contradictory, very poor at describing what she wanted from the class and unwilling to go with the approach that the normal trainer has. As a consequence I was confused so God only knows what Tyson and Marauder thought of it all.
It wasn't just me either. 30% had to bite her tongue on a couple of occasions and we saw a few "looks" from other members too. After the class we tend to take the dogs for a quick run round the park in case they need a pee before the drive home. This gave us the opportunity for a bitching session with a few other members and in true team spirit we decided that the new trainer was piss poor and it was a good job Brenda is only off for a couple of weeks.
A few of us decided to throw a "sicky" next week and return to classes once Brenda is fit and able. That might seem a bit extreme but I learned how much I enjoy dog training and how much of that enjoyment was dissipated by a replacement trainer who seemed to think that the current approach is incorrect and needs a new strategy.
That is all well and good so long as you win Hearts and Minds and can take the Group along to this Brave New World. Unfortunately that was the flaw with her plan. There was nothing wrong with the old approach and if it ain't broke don't fix it - especially if you are only standing in for a couple of weeks.
Wednesday 7 July 2010
Torn... ?
Today the Other Bike was finally discharged from the Ward and I went and picked her up. Thanks Dad - you are obviously never too old to give your Kids a lift.
She is still lovely and managed to turn a head at the Workshop despite being 15 years old. Now the Vespa is a wild and torrid beast of a Bike and is approached with a feeling of apprehension every time she is ridden*. The Other Bike is completely different. She delights every time and you know that she will give you a fantastic ride but there are no "butterflies". That is not to say that she is boring, far from it but she instills confidence not awe.
So I feel very differently about her than I do towards the Vespa but in no way is she a wall flower or second rate. She is Japanese in origin and will start every time, she will run forever if serviced properly, if it rains she will shrug it off and will not fall into a pile of rust overnight after the aforementioned downpour. She is the practical one. Comfortable, she will take you to the top of the Country and you wont need a Chiropractor at the end of the trip. She is the practical one. The Vespa is the High Maintenance option. Both are great, just different.
There is no Readers Wife/Supermodel differentiation going on here. If you are half way up Mount Kilimanjaro and there is a camp that needs setting up before the Heavens open - do you want your chosen Life Partner or Naomi Campbell helping out?
The Service and MOT Bill was incredibly low so a big thumbs up to Chris at Redditch Motorcycles. He decided, after a road test to leave the original rubber on as the tires are performing fine. That saved me the best part of £250. Definitely the way to encourage people to come back and explains why he is so busy.
This evening I took TP for his first ever pillion ride. We took it nice and steady and he absolutely loved it. I think it helped that two of his School Mates were passing as he climbed aboard. I asked him if his Cool Rating had risen or plummeted as a result of being spotted. "Definitely risen" was his response.
* The feeling afterwards generally tends to be along the lines of "What a Rush" or " Die you Dawdling Gits"
She is still lovely and managed to turn a head at the Workshop despite being 15 years old. Now the Vespa is a wild and torrid beast of a Bike and is approached with a feeling of apprehension every time she is ridden*. The Other Bike is completely different. She delights every time and you know that she will give you a fantastic ride but there are no "butterflies". That is not to say that she is boring, far from it but she instills confidence not awe.
So I feel very differently about her than I do towards the Vespa but in no way is she a wall flower or second rate. She is Japanese in origin and will start every time, she will run forever if serviced properly, if it rains she will shrug it off and will not fall into a pile of rust overnight after the aforementioned downpour. She is the practical one. Comfortable, she will take you to the top of the Country and you wont need a Chiropractor at the end of the trip. She is the practical one. The Vespa is the High Maintenance option. Both are great, just different.
There is no Readers Wife/Supermodel differentiation going on here. If you are half way up Mount Kilimanjaro and there is a camp that needs setting up before the Heavens open - do you want your chosen Life Partner or Naomi Campbell helping out?
The Service and MOT Bill was incredibly low so a big thumbs up to Chris at Redditch Motorcycles. He decided, after a road test to leave the original rubber on as the tires are performing fine. That saved me the best part of £250. Definitely the way to encourage people to come back and explains why he is so busy.
This evening I took TP for his first ever pillion ride. We took it nice and steady and he absolutely loved it. I think it helped that two of his School Mates were passing as he climbed aboard. I asked him if his Cool Rating had risen or plummeted as a result of being spotted. "Definitely risen" was his response.
--------------------------------------
* The feeling afterwards generally tends to be along the lines of "What a Rush" or " Die you Dawdling Gits"
Saturday 12 June 2010
Hospital Food
Just Kidding.
30% took me over to Cheltenham this morning and by the time I got there I was somewhat tense. Not "wired" but it is fair to say tense.
We wandered in to the ward and there she was, sat by the bed in all her glory. She looked great, yellow paintwork gleaming. No fancy graphics or decals. Just yellow paint and subtle text advising that she is a Ducati, has 4 valves per cylinder and 996 cubic centimeters displacement.
Tim Hyett is the chap who had taken her from something looking like it had been a perch for chickens for the last 4 years to something that looked like it had just rolled out of the showroom.
We chatted and joked for a while, flexed the plastic and then 30% left and there was no more to say. Time to get on with it.
When you do something that you haven't done for a long time people say "its just like riding a bike". You never forget. As a threw a leg over the tail piece I hoped they were right. Press alarm fob to take it from Service Mode to alarm off, press choke button which gives a preset amount of throttle turn on the ignition and hear the fuel pump whirr, nudge the side stand so it springs up and press the starter button.
The sound is indescribable. I thought I could write a reasonable couple of paragraphs but I can't give you any idea of what a V-twin sound like through Termignoni race pipes. It rattles and thuds. It roars and growls. The best I can manage it to say "imagine that God race tuned his tractor" but that comes nowhere near.
After a couple of minutes the temperature gauge needle has lifted off the stop and there is no excuse not to move off. Clutch in, select first, a reasonable amount of throttle and slowly release the clutch......
..... and it all comes back to me. Not in a flood but slowly seeping back. The first few junctions are nervous episodes as the mirrors aren't quite right and I'm still adjusting to a bike that it very tall. remember Borrowers call me short arse.
She also has new tyres that haven't been scrubbed in yet so I know that I need to corner carefully for the first hundred miles or so.
By the time I get to the M5 I having a riot of a time the sound, the vibrations, the response. The motorway is not her natural habitat but neither is chugging through Cheltenham at lunchtime and in view of my lack of recent riding experience a straightforward route seemed the best. I had forgotten just how responsive she is and am cruising between 70 and 80 in 3rd or 4th gear. A gap appears and a slight twist of the throttle and she takes off like a scalded cat.
The final dozen miles are down a smooth twisty A road and by then it is definitely all coming back to me. By the time I get home I want to stop so I can revel but want to carry on too.
Reality kicks in and I turn in to the drive. She is not yet taxed and consequently I am only permitted to ride her directly back from a pre-arranged MOT. So it is straight to the DVLA website to flex the plastic further.
So now she sits sheeted in the garage. Connected to a Optimate to keep her battery at peak charge level.
Apologies if this is a bit Top Gear but don't worry. Tomorrow I'll give you my theory on why Tyson and Marauder don't really chase rabbits.
30% took me over to Cheltenham this morning and by the time I got there I was somewhat tense. Not "wired" but it is fair to say tense.
We wandered in to the ward and there she was, sat by the bed in all her glory. She looked great, yellow paintwork gleaming. No fancy graphics or decals. Just yellow paint and subtle text advising that she is a Ducati, has 4 valves per cylinder and 996 cubic centimeters displacement.
Tim Hyett is the chap who had taken her from something looking like it had been a perch for chickens for the last 4 years to something that looked like it had just rolled out of the showroom.
We chatted and joked for a while, flexed the plastic and then 30% left and there was no more to say. Time to get on with it.
When you do something that you haven't done for a long time people say "its just like riding a bike". You never forget. As a threw a leg over the tail piece I hoped they were right. Press alarm fob to take it from Service Mode to alarm off, press choke button which gives a preset amount of throttle turn on the ignition and hear the fuel pump whirr, nudge the side stand so it springs up and press the starter button.
The sound is indescribable. I thought I could write a reasonable couple of paragraphs but I can't give you any idea of what a V-twin sound like through Termignoni race pipes. It rattles and thuds. It roars and growls. The best I can manage it to say "imagine that God race tuned his tractor" but that comes nowhere near.
After a couple of minutes the temperature gauge needle has lifted off the stop and there is no excuse not to move off. Clutch in, select first, a reasonable amount of throttle and slowly release the clutch......
..... and it all comes back to me. Not in a flood but slowly seeping back. The first few junctions are nervous episodes as the mirrors aren't quite right and I'm still adjusting to a bike that it very tall. remember Borrowers call me short arse.
She also has new tyres that haven't been scrubbed in yet so I know that I need to corner carefully for the first hundred miles or so.
By the time I get to the M5 I having a riot of a time the sound, the vibrations, the response. The motorway is not her natural habitat but neither is chugging through Cheltenham at lunchtime and in view of my lack of recent riding experience a straightforward route seemed the best. I had forgotten just how responsive she is and am cruising between 70 and 80 in 3rd or 4th gear. A gap appears and a slight twist of the throttle and she takes off like a scalded cat.
The final dozen miles are down a smooth twisty A road and by then it is definitely all coming back to me. By the time I get home I want to stop so I can revel but want to carry on too.
Reality kicks in and I turn in to the drive. She is not yet taxed and consequently I am only permitted to ride her directly back from a pre-arranged MOT. So it is straight to the DVLA website to flex the plastic further.
So now she sits sheeted in the garage. Connected to a Optimate to keep her battery at peak charge level.
Apologies if this is a bit Top Gear but don't worry. Tomorrow I'll give you my theory on why Tyson and Marauder don't really chase rabbits.
Friday 11 June 2010
VE Day approaches.
What! That was weeks ago.
Yes, true but VE, in this instance, stands for Vespa Entertainment as I am reliably informed that she is ready for collection tomorrow. The Senior Consultant has rung and scared the living daylights out of my by saying that they couldn't issue a MOT certificate due a mismatch between the bike registration and the frame number.
After peeling me off the ceiling where I was hanging from the lamp frothing at the mouth thinking that I had a "ringer" he advised that this is quite common and he just needed me to fax over a copy of the registration document and they would be able to sort out the problem. Basically all down to bloody computers. Actually I have a strong suspicion that Dante's Nine Circles of Hell may actually be involved with the DVLA computer system. Curse Them.
He also advised that she looked absolutely beautiful and was in stunning condition for her age once all the crap and spiders' webs had been washed away. Obviously the members of the Arachnid Special Forces has been covering her with a protective web as a token of gratitude for me not hoovering them up or finding any other way to exterminate them.
How do I feel? To be honest this week has been very intense at work and it has distracted me from thinking about riding a bike that I haven't ridden for 4-5 years and is quite capable of speeds in excess of 160 mph.
How do I feel now the week is winding down and I have time to actually think about? Apprehensive in a good way sums it up.
Hopefully tomorrow's Blog will not be written from A&E.
Yes, true but VE, in this instance, stands for Vespa Entertainment as I am reliably informed that she is ready for collection tomorrow. The Senior Consultant has rung and scared the living daylights out of my by saying that they couldn't issue a MOT certificate due a mismatch between the bike registration and the frame number.
After peeling me off the ceiling where I was hanging from the lamp frothing at the mouth thinking that I had a "ringer" he advised that this is quite common and he just needed me to fax over a copy of the registration document and they would be able to sort out the problem. Basically all down to bloody computers. Actually I have a strong suspicion that Dante's Nine Circles of Hell may actually be involved with the DVLA computer system. Curse Them.
He also advised that she looked absolutely beautiful and was in stunning condition for her age once all the crap and spiders' webs had been washed away. Obviously the members of the Arachnid Special Forces has been covering her with a protective web as a token of gratitude for me not hoovering them up or finding any other way to exterminate them.
How do I feel? To be honest this week has been very intense at work and it has distracted me from thinking about riding a bike that I haven't ridden for 4-5 years and is quite capable of speeds in excess of 160 mph.
How do I feel now the week is winding down and I have time to actually think about? Apprehensive in a good way sums it up.
Hopefully tomorrow's Blog will not be written from A&E.
Thursday 27 May 2010
He was a tall chap.
For most of today I have had a telephone handset glued to my ear.
As a result by 5.30 I wanted either to scream down the damn thing or just throw it out of the nearest window. I am a typical bloke when it comes to the phone, I keep chats with friends and family to the bare minimum so you can imagine how I felt about spending a total of 5 hours on calls with "colleagues" today!
The working day eventually ended and this evening has a strange atmosphere as 30% has been advised that she is not at risk of redundancy but her best friend; Jules who she has known for over 20 years will be moving on. Earlier this week I also found out that my job is safe but there is a guilt that comes with surviving the cull and this is magnified when close friends loose their jobs. It is all quite bleak at the moment as colleagues go but the workload remains the same and their is no apparent strategy for implementing the changes that will be necessary to deliver a service with a significant reduction in personnel.
On a brighter note TP had Food Tech today at school so we dined on his Kofta mix with rice and salad and very good it was too. A glass of Riocha suited it to a tee.
I also made contact with the Vespa's Senior Consultant who advised that their preliminary tests results had all come back and so far there was nothing to worry about. He hoped to have a final diagnosis within a couple of days.
Now to the tall guy...
... anyone who knows me is aware that if Peter Jackson was casting for his film of the Hobbit I am more likely to be "Hobbit in background" than an Ent. The picture in my profile isn't a humorous caricature it was taken last year after I had a makeover/photo session that I won in a phone-in competition on The Jeremy Kyle Show.
Basically if you ask me to describe someone I will probably say they were tall unless I am talking about Ronnie Corbett or Danny Devito. Yes, in my world every one is tall.
A couple of days ago 30% and I were stood in the garden taking in the evening sun and I was stood on the step at the edge of the Terrace so 30% could tuck under my shoulder. YES - she is tall too! "This is nice" she said " I wish you were really this tall".
That got me thinking. I am quite happy being the height I am so what would happen if I was 9 inches taller. I'm not going to convert this in to centimetres. If you can't work it out you probably ought to be downloading MP3s, doing your home work or messaging people you think are friends on Facebook.
So, what would happen if I was suddenly 9" taller? Would I wake in the morning and go to pull on my magic pants only to find that I was trying to shove them on to my shins because my feet were much further away from me than when I went to bed? What would happen if I wasn't working at home that day and had to go in for a customer meeting? All of my trousers would terminate mid shin which isn't a good look when you are trying to convince a client that you understand their requirements and will produce a product that meets their needs at a price they can afford. I suppose once I was sat down I'd be OK but I'd need a cunning plan to disguise naked calves for the period between walking in to the room and getting sat down at the desk.
You would really need some style and panache to carry that look off. I would probably need to review my presentation and strike out the bit where I got up and drew a stick man on the flip chart.
It might be that my whole body grew in proportion but that would be no good either as nothing would fit so I end up going to work in shorts and a tee shirt that now looks like a bloody crop top. With my physique that is never going to be a good look.
Maybe I would shoot up during the day and suddenly start banging my head on low beams or door lintels.
No, the more thought I give to it, the happier I am being a short arse.
As a result by 5.30 I wanted either to scream down the damn thing or just throw it out of the nearest window. I am a typical bloke when it comes to the phone, I keep chats with friends and family to the bare minimum so you can imagine how I felt about spending a total of 5 hours on calls with "colleagues" today!
The working day eventually ended and this evening has a strange atmosphere as 30% has been advised that she is not at risk of redundancy but her best friend; Jules who she has known for over 20 years will be moving on. Earlier this week I also found out that my job is safe but there is a guilt that comes with surviving the cull and this is magnified when close friends loose their jobs. It is all quite bleak at the moment as colleagues go but the workload remains the same and their is no apparent strategy for implementing the changes that will be necessary to deliver a service with a significant reduction in personnel.
On a brighter note TP had Food Tech today at school so we dined on his Kofta mix with rice and salad and very good it was too. A glass of Riocha suited it to a tee.
I also made contact with the Vespa's Senior Consultant who advised that their preliminary tests results had all come back and so far there was nothing to worry about. He hoped to have a final diagnosis within a couple of days.
Now to the tall guy...
... anyone who knows me is aware that if Peter Jackson was casting for his film of the Hobbit I am more likely to be "Hobbit in background" than an Ent. The picture in my profile isn't a humorous caricature it was taken last year after I had a makeover/photo session that I won in a phone-in competition on The Jeremy Kyle Show.
Basically if you ask me to describe someone I will probably say they were tall unless I am talking about Ronnie Corbett or Danny Devito. Yes, in my world every one is tall.
A couple of days ago 30% and I were stood in the garden taking in the evening sun and I was stood on the step at the edge of the Terrace so 30% could tuck under my shoulder. YES - she is tall too! "This is nice" she said " I wish you were really this tall".
That got me thinking. I am quite happy being the height I am so what would happen if I was 9 inches taller. I'm not going to convert this in to centimetres. If you can't work it out you probably ought to be downloading MP3s, doing your home work or messaging people you think are friends on Facebook.
So, what would happen if I was suddenly 9" taller? Would I wake in the morning and go to pull on my magic pants only to find that I was trying to shove them on to my shins because my feet were much further away from me than when I went to bed? What would happen if I wasn't working at home that day and had to go in for a customer meeting? All of my trousers would terminate mid shin which isn't a good look when you are trying to convince a client that you understand their requirements and will produce a product that meets their needs at a price they can afford. I suppose once I was sat down I'd be OK but I'd need a cunning plan to disguise naked calves for the period between walking in to the room and getting sat down at the desk.
You would really need some style and panache to carry that look off. I would probably need to review my presentation and strike out the bit where I got up and drew a stick man on the flip chart.
It might be that my whole body grew in proportion but that would be no good either as nothing would fit so I end up going to work in shorts and a tee shirt that now looks like a bloody crop top. With my physique that is never going to be a good look.
Maybe I would shoot up during the day and suddenly start banging my head on low beams or door lintels.
No, the more thought I give to it, the happier I am being a short arse.
Thursday 20 May 2010
The Power of "No".
30% and TP are catching up on Eastenders and I would rather have open heart surgery while fully conscious than watch it. To be fair it isn't that bad but it is a load of predictable nonsense and its not really my cup of tea.
So here I am jotting down today's musings. Obviously today's BIG THING was the delivery of the Vespa to the Hospital for necessary surgery. Contrary to yesterdays concerns the ambulance journey went without a hitch and we arrived in Cheltenham where the patient was received by one of the Junior Doctors rather than the Consultant.
A gangling youth with a stutter and a pierced lip did not initially give me major feelings of security and confidence but I should not have prejudged. He was right on the ball, had been informed that she was coming in for attention and gave me some of the most natural, good customer service that I have encountered for a long time.
I now await the Consultants opinion, the likely date for discharge from the ward and the bill. I am now in to the realms of serious private medicine!
Work is really ramping up at the moment which is a good thing as I don't like to be kicking my heels but at the same time I am strongly in favour of a work / life balance and I am concerned that if I am not careful the allocation of tasks is going to lead me to tell someone to get stuffed at some point in the near future.
I quite enjoy the power of "No". It amazes me how many people are out there who will, quite literally, sink under a mountain of crap that some git has dumped on them or has ridiculous deadlines set that simply were never feasible because they failed to say "No".
Try it one day, you might like the effect. "Tell me bad man can you do this by Friday?" "No" I answer. "OK" comes the response "I'll see if there is someone else or whether we can defer".
Generally the world doesn't end and you still remain in employment if you say "No". You just have to have a reasonable amount of creative bull shit to back up why you are saying it. I'm sure you are surrounded by lazy sods who seem to do very little other than surf the net and take long lunches.
These guys are zen masters in the art of "No". They are so good that a single look, a raised eye brow or a slight sigh will indicate that they are absolutely "maxxed out" on something so important and complex that the requester doesn't have the mental capacity to even start to understand it.
Learn from them and escape the shaken can of coke feeling that you have at the start of every weekend :-)
Where was I? Hmm Not Sure.
The lawn has been mowed and the mower has again taunted me by starting first time and performing as required. It did, of course, periodically spew clods of macerated grass out on the lawn so that I had to go back and collect them. We are now into that stage of the relationship where nothing is right but nothing is wrong. It just about meets the bare minimum criteria required of a lawn mower in that it cuts grass but it is a noisy beast with dull blades and a bad habit of not collecting all that it cuts. My Dad should never have come round with his Husquvarna porn mag or "brochure" as the retailer euphemistically puts it!
Right - I must go and be a parent and partner so Good Evening.
So here I am jotting down today's musings. Obviously today's BIG THING was the delivery of the Vespa to the Hospital for necessary surgery. Contrary to yesterdays concerns the ambulance journey went without a hitch and we arrived in Cheltenham where the patient was received by one of the Junior Doctors rather than the Consultant.
A gangling youth with a stutter and a pierced lip did not initially give me major feelings of security and confidence but I should not have prejudged. He was right on the ball, had been informed that she was coming in for attention and gave me some of the most natural, good customer service that I have encountered for a long time.
I now await the Consultants opinion, the likely date for discharge from the ward and the bill. I am now in to the realms of serious private medicine!
Work is really ramping up at the moment which is a good thing as I don't like to be kicking my heels but at the same time I am strongly in favour of a work / life balance and I am concerned that if I am not careful the allocation of tasks is going to lead me to tell someone to get stuffed at some point in the near future.
I quite enjoy the power of "No". It amazes me how many people are out there who will, quite literally, sink under a mountain of crap that some git has dumped on them or has ridiculous deadlines set that simply were never feasible because they failed to say "No".
Try it one day, you might like the effect. "Tell me bad man can you do this by Friday?" "No" I answer. "OK" comes the response "I'll see if there is someone else or whether we can defer".
Generally the world doesn't end and you still remain in employment if you say "No". You just have to have a reasonable amount of creative bull shit to back up why you are saying it. I'm sure you are surrounded by lazy sods who seem to do very little other than surf the net and take long lunches.
These guys are zen masters in the art of "No". They are so good that a single look, a raised eye brow or a slight sigh will indicate that they are absolutely "maxxed out" on something so important and complex that the requester doesn't have the mental capacity to even start to understand it.
Learn from them and escape the shaken can of coke feeling that you have at the start of every weekend :-)
Where was I? Hmm Not Sure.
The lawn has been mowed and the mower has again taunted me by starting first time and performing as required. It did, of course, periodically spew clods of macerated grass out on the lawn so that I had to go back and collect them. We are now into that stage of the relationship where nothing is right but nothing is wrong. It just about meets the bare minimum criteria required of a lawn mower in that it cuts grass but it is a noisy beast with dull blades and a bad habit of not collecting all that it cuts. My Dad should never have come round with his Husquvarna porn mag or "brochure" as the retailer euphemistically puts it!
Right - I must go and be a parent and partner so Good Evening.
Wednesday 19 May 2010
Tension Mounts.
A brief entry this evening.
If you say this in your finest Kenneth Williams voice and add "Matron" at the end it might raise a smile or we could always go with the traditional "as the Actress said to the Bishop".
Mate with Van arrived this evening and the Vespa was strapped in. Talk about mixed feelings, I want her to go so that she can be put back where she belongs; on the road. On the other hand seeing her tied down in the back of a Van I watch her go filled with trepidation concerned that she will end up on her side; stricken, fluids leaking out during her Journey to the Workshop.
I would say that it is like seeing your child ride off on their "two wheeler" for the first time but it it isn't. If they fall off the services at A&E are free and how much damage can a 5 year old do to itself falling 12 inches on to grass! The Vespa falling over in the back of transit is far more serious and worrying.
My family calls as yesterday evening was marked by a visit by the local village idiot!. You may recall from yesterday's entry that I had been in a client workshop and wanted to come home and relax. Instead I listened to the chaotic ramblings of a local nutter for two and a half hours. I will fill in the details when I can find the energy and my sense of humour has been restored.
If you say this in your finest Kenneth Williams voice and add "Matron" at the end it might raise a smile or we could always go with the traditional "as the Actress said to the Bishop".
Mate with Van arrived this evening and the Vespa was strapped in. Talk about mixed feelings, I want her to go so that she can be put back where she belongs; on the road. On the other hand seeing her tied down in the back of a Van I watch her go filled with trepidation concerned that she will end up on her side; stricken, fluids leaking out during her Journey to the Workshop.
I would say that it is like seeing your child ride off on their "two wheeler" for the first time but it it isn't. If they fall off the services at A&E are free and how much damage can a 5 year old do to itself falling 12 inches on to grass! The Vespa falling over in the back of transit is far more serious and worrying.
My family calls as yesterday evening was marked by a visit by the local village idiot!. You may recall from yesterday's entry that I had been in a client workshop and wanted to come home and relax. Instead I listened to the chaotic ramblings of a local nutter for two and a half hours. I will fill in the details when I can find the energy and my sense of humour has been restored.
Tuesday 18 May 2010
Someone else's pants
This evening sees me making this entry on 30%'s Laptop and it is an arduous experience.
Now I know that I have grumbled previously about my new machine and how it has a crappy image but I am getting used to it and, bit by bit, - no pun intended- am setting it up so that it suits me.
30% has obviously done the same with hers and we have quite different preferences. I, for example, prefer to use an external mouse and keyboard and although right handed use a mouse with my left hand. I am therefore repeatedly bringing up menus instead of repositioning the cursor and am getting slightly frustrated with the whole thing.
I have to say that I imagine that it is like wearing somone else's pants and I dont mean fresh from the laundry. I dont know why but there is something slightly "icky" about using another persons machine.
Whether it be the toast crumbs that jam some of the keys or the slightly oily slick that covers the screen and keyboard or the drift of dust - I hope its dust - that covers every surface.
Now I need to stress that 30%'s Laptop is not icky and has no crud, oil slick or layer of dandruff. It is just set up differently and is all a bit alien. For some reason when I access the Journal from her PC it takes me to it via a German Blogspot server so I have had to work out where to click to sign on from memory.
I have just found out that it also uses a German spell checker so virtually all of this is apparently misspelt according to that.
Anyway I shall persevere and advise that the "mate with the van" has rung and the Vespa is to be collected tomorrow, so that is good news. Hopefully it will be up and running again in a week or so.
On the work front I spent all day in a torture session with a customer, a third party, project managers and a sales person. Can life get any better?
By way of observation I thought, up until this day, that it was only possibble to have one Nemesis. Now I know that there must be a plural - perhaps Nemeses?
Anyway, I did manage to wreak revenge for this torture when one of my Nemeses advised that she was having to take some time off to have her gall bladder removed. You don't know how much perosonal restraint was applied when I avoided mentioning the "4 Fs" associated with Gall Bladder disease; Forty, Fat, Femail and Fair and this Nemesis ticks all of those.
Instead I sympatheticallly told her about when I had mine removed last year and came to on the Operating Table mid way through the procedure. Do you know, I nearly had to shout because she covered her ears and went La, La, La when I described being concious, paralysed and feeling the tools going in through the keyholes and touching my Liver. For some reason she didn't want to know.
Some people - I was only trying to make sure she was fully informed. Is that Vincent Price I hear?
Now I know that I have grumbled previously about my new machine and how it has a crappy image but I am getting used to it and, bit by bit, - no pun intended- am setting it up so that it suits me.
30% has obviously done the same with hers and we have quite different preferences. I, for example, prefer to use an external mouse and keyboard and although right handed use a mouse with my left hand. I am therefore repeatedly bringing up menus instead of repositioning the cursor and am getting slightly frustrated with the whole thing.
I have to say that I imagine that it is like wearing somone else's pants and I dont mean fresh from the laundry. I dont know why but there is something slightly "icky" about using another persons machine.
Whether it be the toast crumbs that jam some of the keys or the slightly oily slick that covers the screen and keyboard or the drift of dust - I hope its dust - that covers every surface.
Now I need to stress that 30%'s Laptop is not icky and has no crud, oil slick or layer of dandruff. It is just set up differently and is all a bit alien. For some reason when I access the Journal from her PC it takes me to it via a German Blogspot server so I have had to work out where to click to sign on from memory.
I have just found out that it also uses a German spell checker so virtually all of this is apparently misspelt according to that.
Anyway I shall persevere and advise that the "mate with the van" has rung and the Vespa is to be collected tomorrow, so that is good news. Hopefully it will be up and running again in a week or so.
On the work front I spent all day in a torture session with a customer, a third party, project managers and a sales person. Can life get any better?
By way of observation I thought, up until this day, that it was only possibble to have one Nemesis. Now I know that there must be a plural - perhaps Nemeses?
Anyway, I did manage to wreak revenge for this torture when one of my Nemeses advised that she was having to take some time off to have her gall bladder removed. You don't know how much perosonal restraint was applied when I avoided mentioning the "4 Fs" associated with Gall Bladder disease; Forty, Fat, Femail and Fair and this Nemesis ticks all of those.
Instead I sympatheticallly told her about when I had mine removed last year and came to on the Operating Table mid way through the procedure. Do you know, I nearly had to shout because she covered her ears and went La, La, La when I described being concious, paralysed and feeling the tools going in through the keyholes and touching my Liver. For some reason she didn't want to know.
Some people - I was only trying to make sure she was fully informed. Is that Vincent Price I hear?
Wednesday 12 May 2010
I leave everything to the cat.
Yesterday evening the phone rang.
It is not the most original opening line or, for that matter a particularly exciting event, but I don't get that many phone calls. I'm not a big fan of the electric telephone device and do not derive a huge amount of pleasure from either the fixed line or mobile devices. I guess I'm a bit old fashioned but I don't see the need to take my mobile when I go for a walk or nip out to town.
"But what would you do if something happens" is the question I get when I finally return home from a known location within acceptable duration parameters.
What has happened here in case I'm not making myself clear is that I have gone out without a phone but and this is a big BUT I have told everyone where I am going, probably why I'm going - thats if I haven't been told by someone else why I have to go - and also roughly when I will be back.
So "if something happens" I'll pretty much deal with it using natural cunning and the monkey brain that has let me get through a serious number of scrapes over the last 40+ years. Basically if you think about it how much use is a mobile phone anyway? Lets take the scenario that I am walking Tyson and Marauder and a genetically recreated Allosaurus comes from out of one of the side lanes, possibly near the free range chicken farm, and starts chasing me down the road. What bloody use is a Blackberry going to be there? It isn't "Who Wants to be a Millionaire". "Phoning a friend" is not going to stop me from being eaten alive. I appreciate that, if the SIM is still active, you may be able to track down my remains but that is of value to my nearest and dearest rather than me. What I needed in that situation was a medium sized grenade launcher but as yet Dante's have not seen fit to issue me with one of those.
I appreciate that this is a bit of an extreme example but I am using exaggeration for effect. If I am in a bit of a predicament and use my phone what are the likely responses? Option a) its your own fault or option b) what do you expect me to do about it?
What I would really like is option c) 30% removes the safety cover and presses a red button. The Leylandii swing away and the Koi pool flips over. Thunderbird 3 rumbles out on the the strip and my salvation is only minutes away.
I appreciate that I may have mixed up Thunderbirds and Wallace & Grommit's "A Grand Day Out" but you get my point. A mobile phone is not going to save my life. This is why my default setting is option d) opposable digits and a monkey brain.
So death by dinosaur lead me neatly on to the subject of the phone call. Friend with van is sorted and the Vespa will be dispatched for surgery at a convenient point next week.
It has been a long while since I rode her due to a number of changes in domestic circumstances and a serious illness a while back. I am really looking forward to it and have those teenage pre-Christmas apprehensions. You know, where you knew you were going to get the present you really wanted but still had to wait.
30% is understandably concerned as she is not a Biker Chick and has consequently uttered those
word filled with disquiet ....
.... "You're not riding that bloody thing until you've written a will"
This journal entry is therefore my e-will and I am hoping that someone reads this entry as your IP address will be taken as a witness signature. I'm pretty sure that this is now legitimate under the Digital Economy Bill.
Basically I leave everything to TP with Potato and Eddy as joint Executors. I am hoping that Potato's planned investments in cheese futures pay off.
Right - the family calls.
It is not the most original opening line or, for that matter a particularly exciting event, but I don't get that many phone calls. I'm not a big fan of the electric telephone device and do not derive a huge amount of pleasure from either the fixed line or mobile devices. I guess I'm a bit old fashioned but I don't see the need to take my mobile when I go for a walk or nip out to town.
"But what would you do if something happens" is the question I get when I finally return home from a known location within acceptable duration parameters.
What has happened here in case I'm not making myself clear is that I have gone out without a phone but and this is a big BUT I have told everyone where I am going, probably why I'm going - thats if I haven't been told by someone else why I have to go - and also roughly when I will be back.
So "if something happens" I'll pretty much deal with it using natural cunning and the monkey brain that has let me get through a serious number of scrapes over the last 40+ years. Basically if you think about it how much use is a mobile phone anyway? Lets take the scenario that I am walking Tyson and Marauder and a genetically recreated Allosaurus comes from out of one of the side lanes, possibly near the free range chicken farm, and starts chasing me down the road. What bloody use is a Blackberry going to be there? It isn't "Who Wants to be a Millionaire". "Phoning a friend" is not going to stop me from being eaten alive. I appreciate that, if the SIM is still active, you may be able to track down my remains but that is of value to my nearest and dearest rather than me. What I needed in that situation was a medium sized grenade launcher but as yet Dante's have not seen fit to issue me with one of those.
I appreciate that this is a bit of an extreme example but I am using exaggeration for effect. If I am in a bit of a predicament and use my phone what are the likely responses? Option a) its your own fault or option b) what do you expect me to do about it?
What I would really like is option c) 30% removes the safety cover and presses a red button. The Leylandii swing away and the Koi pool flips over. Thunderbird 3 rumbles out on the the strip and my salvation is only minutes away.
I appreciate that I may have mixed up Thunderbirds and Wallace & Grommit's "A Grand Day Out" but you get my point. A mobile phone is not going to save my life. This is why my default setting is option d) opposable digits and a monkey brain.
So death by dinosaur lead me neatly on to the subject of the phone call. Friend with van is sorted and the Vespa will be dispatched for surgery at a convenient point next week.
It has been a long while since I rode her due to a number of changes in domestic circumstances and a serious illness a while back. I am really looking forward to it and have those teenage pre-Christmas apprehensions. You know, where you knew you were going to get the present you really wanted but still had to wait.
30% is understandably concerned as she is not a Biker Chick and has consequently uttered those
word filled with disquiet ....
.... "You're not riding that bloody thing until you've written a will"
This journal entry is therefore my e-will and I am hoping that someone reads this entry as your IP address will be taken as a witness signature. I'm pretty sure that this is now legitimate under the Digital Economy Bill.
Basically I leave everything to TP with Potato and Eddy as joint Executors. I am hoping that Potato's planned investments in cheese futures pay off.
Right - the family calls.
Wednesday 5 May 2010
No gain without pain
Today has been somewhat frustrating as the Lesser Demons down at Dante's have found other souls to torture and I have been able to take a break from pushing my rock up the damn hill.
Unfortunately I'm not one to sit idly by. I'm not a great fan of pushing boulders up hills but I like to keep busy. So for the time being, it is the old slope / boulder interface that fills my working day. Consequently I get a bit tetchy when I'm not fully occupied. The mind starts to wander and that can be disastrous.
For instance, this morning the shoulders were a little sore on waking and that was either hefting a piece of furniture in to the Prius or the enthusiastic tugging of Tyson and Marauder as we took our daily constitutional yesterday.
Whilst T&M go by the joint alias of the Straining Staffies in this journal, they are actually pretty good at "walking to heel". This is because TP and I have spent much time and effort in taking them to Puppy Classes. It might be worth mentioning that some of the effort is applied to cleaning up vomit as Marauder is not a good traveller.
But I digress ...
They don't generally pull at the lead but if there is one thing to make them try to wrench my shoulders from their sockets it is horse shit. They absolutely love it. They will guzzle it down like the Health Conscious (or gullible as I like to call them) shovel down Activia Yoghurts and bottled water.
It actually got me thinking, does horse manure contain the canine equivalent of Acidophilus bacteria? Should I be developing up a horse pooh / natural yoghurt mixture and knocking it out via Pets at Home with a considerable profit margin?
So, where is this going .... all I need is an intelligent horse, an off road skateboard, some safety equipment and I have the basis for a new adventure sport / dog exercise experience. It goes like this .... The intelligent horse, let call him Mr Ed, completes a pre-ordained dog walking circuit and carefully deposits a "road apple" every 50 or so yards.
You may have noticed at this point that I type Yoghurt in a strange way and my spelling of metres is completely off the wall. This is because I am very much pre-decimal. My Sat-Nav only shows Roman Roads ..... "Yes Centurion, continue down Via Fossa for another Quattro Mille Passus and you will have arrived at your destination"
I then attire myself with the safety equipment, mount the off-road skateboard and pick up T&Ms leads. You get the picture. How much fun is that going to be as we charge round the route, the dogs encouraged by the regular small equine deposits. This is definitely a winner. If the UK needs a new sport to add to the Schedule for 2012 this could be it. Its got it all - competitiveness, thrills, spills, speed and danger! Sort of Ben Hur meets an Ealing Comedy.
Unfortunately I'm not one to sit idly by. I'm not a great fan of pushing boulders up hills but I like to keep busy. So for the time being, it is the old slope / boulder interface that fills my working day. Consequently I get a bit tetchy when I'm not fully occupied. The mind starts to wander and that can be disastrous.
For instance, this morning the shoulders were a little sore on waking and that was either hefting a piece of furniture in to the Prius or the enthusiastic tugging of Tyson and Marauder as we took our daily constitutional yesterday.
Whilst T&M go by the joint alias of the Straining Staffies in this journal, they are actually pretty good at "walking to heel". This is because TP and I have spent much time and effort in taking them to Puppy Classes. It might be worth mentioning that some of the effort is applied to cleaning up vomit as Marauder is not a good traveller.
But I digress ...
They don't generally pull at the lead but if there is one thing to make them try to wrench my shoulders from their sockets it is horse shit. They absolutely love it. They will guzzle it down like the Health Conscious (or gullible as I like to call them) shovel down Activia Yoghurts and bottled water.
It actually got me thinking, does horse manure contain the canine equivalent of Acidophilus bacteria? Should I be developing up a horse pooh / natural yoghurt mixture and knocking it out via Pets at Home with a considerable profit margin?
So, where is this going .... all I need is an intelligent horse, an off road skateboard, some safety equipment and I have the basis for a new adventure sport / dog exercise experience. It goes like this .... The intelligent horse, let call him Mr Ed, completes a pre-ordained dog walking circuit and carefully deposits a "road apple" every 50 or so yards.
You may have noticed at this point that I type Yoghurt in a strange way and my spelling of metres is completely off the wall. This is because I am very much pre-decimal. My Sat-Nav only shows Roman Roads ..... "Yes Centurion, continue down Via Fossa for another Quattro Mille Passus and you will have arrived at your destination"
I then attire myself with the safety equipment, mount the off-road skateboard and pick up T&Ms leads. You get the picture. How much fun is that going to be as we charge round the route, the dogs encouraged by the regular small equine deposits. This is definitely a winner. If the UK needs a new sport to add to the Schedule for 2012 this could be it. Its got it all - competitiveness, thrills, spills, speed and danger! Sort of Ben Hur meets an Ealing Comedy.
Back to reality.
I've not really mentioned my preferred forms of transport before. There have been a couple of references to the Prius and it might get a minor role in one of the future journal entries but I have had a life long love of motorcycles. For some time the object of my affection, AFTER 30%, TP, T&M, Eddy and Potato has lingered neglected in the garage.
A combination of house moves, building projects, ill health and general stuff meant that she did not get the attention she deserved and she gathered dust for several years. Lets call her the Vespa.
The Vespa is an alias but it serves quite well for she is Italian and designed, when viewed from above to look like the silhouette of a woman's torso - wide at the bust and hips, narrow at the waist. Vespa is also Italian for wasp - do a google image search on "waspie" and you will see why it is a good alias.
Oh I was almost getting poetic there - I forgot to mention that she roars like a lion and has a fuel economy of a BMW 2.2 litre, in-line, 6 cylinder, petrol engine, Yep its amazing what a couple of race cans and a new Ignition chip will do.
So - she needs specialist attention and there's not a lot of it in these parts so when I managed to a) locate a man just 30 miles away combined with b) a friend with a van we get c) servicing bills that will make your eyes water.
So rarity + scarcity of skilled resources + neglect = This Years Bonus.
Ho hum - as I said "no gain without pain".
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