tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-286084362024-03-13T02:37:12.950+00:00Blogfromthebarn... an aimless wander through the dusty and moth-eaten corridors of a once beautiful mind, alternating between grumpy optimism and cheerful misanthropy...Stuffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15806498567164105339noreply@blogger.comBlogger276125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28608436.post-53325082502817793282016-07-07T18:46:00.000+01:002016-07-08T11:19:00.605+01:00Sa Calobra, a Mallorcan Mountain Meander...<div style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
As many of my loyal and devoted readers know I quite enjoy a sensible and sociable bike ride with chums. </div>
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The key word there is sensible so it's unclear to me why I keep agreeing to do very tough rides which would be testing for fit skinny young folk but turn out to be exceedingly arduous for this plump old fool.</div>
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Anyway, last year I agreed to a sponsored climb of Mont Ventoux and we raised about a quarter of a million quid for disadvantaged inner city kids through the Laureus foundation. </div>
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You can read about it <a href="http://blogfromthebarn.blogspot.co.uk/2015/07/mont-ventoux-easy-way.html" target="_blank">here ... </a></div>
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So, predictably, when they decided to do something similar this year they contacted me and I, unpredictably, offered a very unpredictable "Yes".</div>
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All too quickly July loomed and along with another 80 or so cyclists, a sweaty mix of the good, the bad and the very, very ugly we did three days of extremely testing Mallorcan cycling culminating in the infamous Sa Calobra climb.</div>
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A few facts</div>
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<li style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">3 days of 90+ km in 35 degree heat.</li>
<li style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Sa Calobra is a 10km downhill to a tiny port followed, (inevitably, there’s only one road) by 2,297 vertical feet, over 10km of tarmac, of sheer slow, arduous, solid uphill grind.</li>
<li style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Going down took me about 17 minutes, coming up took an hour and 46 minutes. going down I hit 72kph, coming up I averaged just over 5kph.</li>
<li style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Of all the 28,115 cyclists who have recorded the climb on Strava, only 262 were slower than me. </li>
<li style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">However, (and I suspect this a weight-related anomaly) when going <span style="text-decoration: underline;">down</span> the mountain 15,337 were slower. </li>
<li style="color: #454545; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">The team (and that includes me, and more importantly my generous sponsors) raised over £200,000 on this event</li>
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Highlights for me, beyond the major challenge of the Sa Calobra climb, were firstly, a 6 or 7 km section where I managed to get myself onto the tail of the Irish National Team, training on the island, they were barrelling along at an astonishing pace,with very little visible effort and by clinging close to them I enjoyed a terrifically fast blast through some delightful undulations from the Lluc junction to the top of the next climb. It was very kind of them not to simply put the hammer down and accelerate away from their very grateful tailgater. </div>
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Second highlight of the trip was a splendid afternoon ride to Cap Formentor, a classic and very beautiful route but due to a mechanical problem with my rented bike I ended up having to borrow a bike from one of our team, Sheila. She was taking the afternoon off and I was just able to get the saddle high enough that despite it being four centimetres shorter than my own frame size I was able to ride a somewhat cramped but fast and fun trip to the lighthouse. </div>
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So, a great trip overall, how do I feel?</div>
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It was tough stuff but pretty trivial compared to the daily existence of some of the kids that hopefully we've now helped to have a slightly better life.</div>
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If you care to see some of our snaps from the event there’s a little slideshow </div>
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FodBLAxQPuU" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;" target="_blank"><img alt=" Click me for the video" border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVP9BpPN8okdTkNwrJgdcrvgtYmPj5v44ER5r0cvaijtr5A3-z6qwS2HZet5goRwT_jW1-A4hQsH-yts-rex5g6KyulilR81FddxXO0aPTqxE4kstCsdUyV__j70dkgr8aAGqcEA/s200/IMG_1210.JPG" width="200" /></a>here <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FodBLAxQPuU"><span style="color: #e4af09;">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FodBLAxQPuU</span></a></div>
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or click on the exhausted chap in the photo ...</div>
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Stuffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15806498567164105339noreply@blogger.com007315 Port de Sa Calobra, Illes Balears, Spain39.8505341 2.799884099999985739.8444386 2.7897990999999855 39.8566296 2.8099690999999858tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28608436.post-67312532624167291042016-06-09T11:54:00.001+01:002016-06-09T15:33:41.618+01:00To Customer Service at AO.Com<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">This should pretty much explain itself.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">To Customer Service at AO.Com</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ-xCikaC28b0M460tQnSqrt95Ds9YKwKjPwYrV2XhUQOIzcToktt71G1A_chMrRo1zvdjKqdN5PeEp2aAjCkyijl2gnDZEOwVflsI5oJrkumvU2jT6vlwsRd7aQbCLyu0J_ovHg/s1600/IMG_1020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnmu23Q2hvN391NxTqgo0e0BhlLw3cI_fpfDgQSeMrvh2s-xgnepo9hasofebMMP72AcJ2BX4dZCKWFzthUsFOBdrppSGqrTm-kD6_h__FK4tMDN0EBABsrU6wN0naCdJnqLAsMA/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-06-09+at+11.33.12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnmu23Q2hvN391NxTqgo0e0BhlLw3cI_fpfDgQSeMrvh2s-xgnepo9hasofebMMP72AcJ2BX4dZCKWFzthUsFOBdrppSGqrTm-kD6_h__FK4tMDN0EBABsrU6wN0naCdJnqLAsMA/s320/Screen+Shot+2016-06-09+at+11.33.12.jpg" width="195" /></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">How do you do?</span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">Having purchased cookers, washing-machines and tumble-driers from </span><a href="http://ao.com/" style="color: purple; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px;" target="_blank">ao.com</a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;"> we naturally went straight to the </span><a href="http://ao.com/" style="color: purple; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px;" target="_blank">ao.com</a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;"> website when our elderly Amana integrated american fridge/freezer started to misbehave. </span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">We selected a glossy black Samsung model, specifically, this one…</span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">Having selected our appliance we spoke with your team and scheduled disconnection, disposal, delivery and installation for Thursday 2nd of June.</span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">We were informed that ‘expert logistics’ in the shape of ‘Rob’ would be delivering the fridge freezer.</span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">We’d notified </span><a href="http://ao.com/" style="color: purple; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px;" target="_blank">ao.com</a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;"> that the bridge near our property was closed by the Highways Agency and that the driver would need to approach from the village of Windlesham.</span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">I’d also confirmed that plumbing would be required to install this unit</span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">On Thursday morning it was a surprise to get a call from your driver informing me that the bridge was closed. </span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">I knew that, I’d informed you. </span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">I’d explained the alternative route.</span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">I gave directions, again.</span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">On arrival there was much head-scratching muttering and eventually a series of heated phone conversations between your staff in the call-centre and the two delivery gentlemen in my house who repeatedly expressed their disbelief that the existing unit could ever possibly be extracted. </span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">This, despite the evidence that it had obviously, some 16 years ago, been installed.</span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">The bulk of their effort seemed to be spent in taking many, many photographs, of the fridge/freezer, the doorways, the floor, the plumbing and informing the dispatcher that this was no job for mere mortals and the </span><a href="http://ao.com/" style="color: purple; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px;" target="_blank">AO.com</a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;"> equivalent of special forces needed to be dispatched. </span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">I spoke with a dispatcher who seemed to be quite confused but asked me to re-schedule. Naturally I was unhappy to do this having dedicated a day of my time simply to accommodate your delivery schedule. </span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">I should explain at this point that I charge £1,250 a day for my time so I was less than thrilled to lose that revenue simply to spend a pointless 30 minutes trying to understand why your folk didn’t want to do their job.</span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">Your driver seemed to think I would enjoy having a brand new, shiny and exciting, but effectively surplus fridge/freezer sitting in my hallway over the weekend but I declined this offer and insisted that they take it back with them. </span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">They, in their turn, declined my generous offer to disconnect and extract the existing unit (and thus prove the viability of the delivery) on the grounds of “having more deliveries to do” and disappeared while I was talking to your dispatcher.</span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">Your dispatcher re-scheduled for the following Monday, the 6th of June and I resigned myself to another day of lost income. </span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">I was assured that the next team would be highly skilled, very capable and fully briefed on all the relevant facts and your dispatcher cheerfully accepted my offer to disconnect and extract the existing unit.</span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">As a ‘courtesy' she offered to commit to an afternoon delivery to allow me to do this part of your job for you. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">I was bemused by ‘ as a courtesy’ but had, by now, lost the will to challenge her understanding of the word 'courtesy’ in this context.</span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">On Monday morning I removed all the contents and then removed the doors from the existing Amana fridge/freezer. </span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">It took about 15 minutes to single-handedly remove the doors and shift the item into the kitchen, making it easily accessible from the front door, conservatory or french windows. </span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">I hoped this might make things easier for your staff. More importantly I wanted to provide no excuse or obstacle to the installation of the new appliance.</span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">This is not what I do for a living so I was still a little baffled by the lack of confidence of your original team in their ability to remove and install on the original, scheduled date.</span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">I waited for your delivery.</span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">Bearing in mind that I was expecting that the new crew, (allegedly the equivalent of the </span><a href="http://ao.com/" style="color: purple; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px;" target="_blank">AO.com</a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;"> A-Team), would have been fully briefed about all aspects of the previous abortive farrago I was a little surprised to get a phone call telling me that they were on the wrong side of the bridge, obviously ignoring the advice of their comrades, my advice and the relevant notes you’ll find printed (by your staff) on the attached delivery instructions.</span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">Once they arrived I was also a little discomfited to find that they were not an elite crack team of </span><a href="http://ao.com/" style="color: purple; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px;" target="_blank">AO.com</a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;"> problem solvers, they were simply another delivery team, mine was but one of 30+ deliveries, and, annoyingly, that they’d been given </span><u style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px;">no information at all</u><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;"> relating to the previous visit. </span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">It did make me wonder what the point was of all the measuring, head-scratching, ‘sharp-intake-of breath’ ing and photography that Rob and his chum had engaged in the previous week and indeed, the subsequent assurances given to me by the dispatcher that </span><a href="http://ao.com/" style="color: purple; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px;" target="_blank">AO.com</a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;"> were very unhappy with the inconvenience (and presumably the cost of missed work) caused to me.</span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">The first piece of good news from Trevor was that they would be unable to connect the water inlet as it was an 'old style connection', apparently their 'plumbing skills’ don't actually include doing any plumbing. </span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">I was, again, intrigued. Young Rob had photographed every aspect </span><u style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px;">including the plumbing</u><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;"> of the existing installation, how was it that this, presumably, useful and relevant information had never been shared?</span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">However Trevor and his chum removed the old machine to their van, and over the next thirty minutes, removed the doors from the new Samsung unit, put it in place, replaced the doors. </span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">Trevor then discovered, much to his surprise that Samsung had included an external in-line water filter and non-return valve on this item, thus allowing connection to the existing inputs.</span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">How we smiled.</span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">The team connected everything up and assured me that all was functional, they were apparently unable to demonstrate that either the power, the water or the ice-making could be demonstrated as the machine needed four hours for 'the gas to settle' before I could turn it on. </span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">I was told that I then needed to then leave it a further hour or so before using it in earnest.</span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">I signed the paperwork, painfully aware that I was signing for a big shiny metal box and had no idea whether it did anything useful. </span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">They left.</span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">After four hours, I turned the power on and <u>after clearing all the packing material from the inside of the unit</u> I set the temperature as per <u>the instruction manual, which, luckily, I found inside the fridge.</u></span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><u><br /></u></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">All seemed fine until I attempted to use the water dispenser a couple of hours later (again, as instructed by the manual) to clear any residual muck out of the system.</span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">All that happened when the dispenser was activated was the sound of a pump, no water, just the sound of a pump. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnmu23Q2hvN391NxTqgo0e0BhlLw3cI_fpfDgQSeMrvh2s-xgnepo9hasofebMMP72AcJ2BX4dZCKWFzthUsFOBdrppSGqrTm-kD6_h__FK4tMDN0EBABsrU6wN0naCdJnqLAsMA/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-06-09+at+11.33.12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">I checked the ice maker, I tested it using the test button, (lucky I’d found that manual), nothing, no ice, no water, nada.</span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">Once again I pulled the machine out of it’s alcove and got behind. </span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">Guess what? </span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">They’d only installed the non-return valve the wrong way round. </span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">I know, I was surprised too. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ-xCikaC28b0M460tQnSqrt95Ds9YKwKjPwYrV2XhUQOIzcToktt71G1A_chMrRo1zvdjKqdN5PeEp2aAjCkyijl2gnDZEOwVflsI5oJrkumvU2jT6vlwsRd7aQbCLyu0J_ovHg/s1600/IMG_1020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ-xCikaC28b0M460tQnSqrt95Ds9YKwKjPwYrV2XhUQOIzcToktt71G1A_chMrRo1zvdjKqdN5PeEp2aAjCkyijl2gnDZEOwVflsI5oJrkumvU2jT6vlwsRd7aQbCLyu0J_ovHg/s200/IMG_1020.jpg" width="150" /></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">I’m guessing that they’d installed it using the pipe colours (Which didn’t match the instructions) rather than the actual water-flow.</span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">No longer a valve to stop the water coming back from the machine, it was now a valve to stop water getting to the machine. </span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">Excellent.</span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">Despite not being one of </span><a href="http://ao.com/" style="color: purple; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px;" target="_blank">AO.com</a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;"> 's highly skilled technicians I was able to (once again) turn off the household water supply at source, disassemble the non-return valve and reconnect it according to the huge arrow and picture of a tap on it’s case. </span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">As near as we can tell, all is now, finally, working well with our new fridge/freezer. </span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">Great</span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">But I can’t help thinking, one of the reasons we selected </span><a href="http://ao.com/" style="color: purple; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px;" target="_blank">AO.com</a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;"> was your claims (and to be fair, in the past, justifiable claims) to offer a highly-effective disconnection, disposal and connection service. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">That’s why we chose you.</span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">This experience however, was, on two separate occasions, shambolic, frustrating, incompetent and (for me at least, expensive ).</span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">So what are you going to do about it?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Update: so far they've refunded all the connection, disconnection and disposal service costs, I still think they owe me a days billing though.</span><br />
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Stuffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15806498567164105339noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28608436.post-88662000749839814032016-05-31T11:49:00.000+01:002016-05-31T13:13:30.094+01:00<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Every year I enter the ballot to compete in the Ride London 100, a 100 mile closed road event starting from the Olympic Park and passing through the many Hills of Surrey finishing on the Mall. Every year I fail to get in... this year was no exception, but my chum Winston who rode for a charity team last year suggested that we should put a team in. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Despite this being my second Charity event this year, (I hate my sponsors to feel abused) I agreed, as did a few others...</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We're riding as a team for the charity, United Response who are now looking for more team entrants so they asked me to do a Q&A about the TeamBreakfastBike entry in the hope of inspiring others. </span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">They put this on their blog, I thought I'd share it with you...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #003a65; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Team Breakfast Bike tackle RideLondon</span></span></h3>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">by Sarah Riddlestone</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">On 31st July, Steve, and 6 of his friends, will be cycling RideLondon on behalf of United Response in a bid to raise much needed funds. We spoke to Steve to see how they’re getting on…</span><br />
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<b style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So, what’s the meaning behind ‘Team Breakfast Bike’?</span></b></h4>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> <span style="font-family: inherit;">There’s around 20 of us, we meet each Saturday (usually at my place) for coffee, cake and general banter, then struggle out into the world for either a road ride, or a mountain bike ride. The ride depends on the weather and what people fancy, and an average ride will see between 4 and 10 folk turn up. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The breakfast bit of #TeamBreakfastBike is that although there’s often cake before the ride, (I like to bake), there’s usually a communal breakfast on our return, team-cooking of eggs, bacon, toast, sharing chat and eating before dispersing to do other Saturday stuff. Which is nice.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br style="-webkit-transition: border-color 500ms ease-out 50ms; box-sizing: border-box; transition: border-color 500ms ease-out 50ms;" /></span> <span style="font-family: inherit;"><img alt="" class="mediaImage" src="http://www.unitedresponse.org.uk/GetImage.aspx?IDMF=61b52655-5a70-4bd1-bc01-84e01b9e652a&w=384&h=384&src=mc" height="217" style="-webkit-transition: border-color 500ms ease-out 50ms; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; transition: border-color 500ms ease-out 50ms; vertical-align: middle;" title="" width="217" /><img alt="" class="mediaImage" src="http://www.unitedresponse.org.uk/GetImage.aspx?IDMF=f793cce1-8e2f-4c62-9a15-5deea45d92b3&w=351&h=307&src=mc" height="218" style="-webkit-transition: border-color 500ms ease-out 50ms; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; transition: border-color 500ms ease-out 50ms; vertical-align: middle;" title="" width="249" /><img alt="" class="mediaImage" src="http://www.unitedresponse.org.uk/GetImage.aspx?IDMF=3061ab00-13ab-4ad4-8cec-159324355eee&w=346&h=259&src=mc" height="217" style="-webkit-transition: border-color 500ms ease-out 50ms; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; transition: border-color 500ms ease-out 50ms; vertical-align: middle;" title="" width="290" /></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b><span style="-webkit-transition: 500ms ease-out 50ms; box-sizing: border-box; transition: 500ms ease-out 50ms;">How do you know each other?</span> </b></span></span></h4>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We’re a sociable group mostly local to Surrey but we also have joiners from as far afield as Germany, France, and even Singapore. It started off as an occasional mountain-bike ride followed by breakfast about 5 years ago. Some of us have known each other for 30 years, others have met one of us in a pub, on a ride or at the gym and said, "Do you fancy coming along", it usually works.</span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b><span style="-webkit-transition: 500ms ease-out 50ms; box-sizing: border-box; transition: 500ms ease-out 50ms;">What are you doing to train?</span> </b></span></span></h4>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Most of us do a ride or two a week. We have a cavalier approach to training, most of us are heading toward elderly and staving that off with visits to the gym, the doctor and our wine merchants. An average ride can be around 25k off-road or 60 to 90k, on a road ride, depending on the quality of the route-finding. A couple of us drove to Scotland to take part in the 132k Etape Caledonia, a drive of 1000 miles for an 81 mile bike ride! But it was a very nice ride.</span></span><br />
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<img alt="" class="mediaImage" src="http://www.unitedresponse.org.uk/GetImage.aspx?IDMF=427b3cf4-8a7f-4d43-bd92-bd2f494200cf&w=432&h=288&src=mc" style="-webkit-transition: 500ms ease-out 50ms; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; transition: 500ms ease-out 50ms; vertical-align: middle;" title="" /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><em style="-webkit-transition: border-color 500ms ease-out 50ms; box-sizing: border-box; transition: border-color 500ms ease-out 50ms;">Steve cycling one of his sportives</em> </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-transition: 500ms ease-out 50ms; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; transition: 500ms ease-out 50ms;"><b>What made you want to cycle RideLondon for United Response?</b></span></h4>
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</b></span> <span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Winston is a big fan of United Response and he suggested we put a team together. A few of us failed to get ballot places so it seemed like a good idea, it’s a worthy cause and we generally have nice lives, so it’s nice to give a little back.</span></span></div>
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<img alt="" class="mediaImage" src="http://www.unitedresponse.org.uk/GetImage.aspx?IDMF=efe98265-fdeb-4db6-9f6b-5d742badbdb2&w=322&h=323&src=mc" height="246" style="-webkit-transition: border-color 500ms ease-out 50ms; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; display: block; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; transition: border-color 500ms ease-out 50ms; vertical-align: middle;" title="" width="245" /></div>
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<em style="-webkit-transition: border-color 500ms ease-out 50ms; box-sizing: border-box; transition: border-color 500ms ease-out 50ms;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Winston at RideLondon 2015</span></em></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br style="-webkit-transition: border-color 500ms ease-out 50ms; box-sizing: border-box; transition: border-color 500ms ease-out 50ms;" /></span></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b><span style="-webkit-transition: 500ms ease-out 50ms; box-sizing: border-box; transition: 500ms ease-out 50ms;">Do you have any special plans for fundraising?</span> </b></span></span></h4>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br style="-webkit-transition: border-color 500ms ease-out 50ms; box-sizing: border-box; transition: border-color 500ms ease-out 50ms;" /></span> <span style="font-family: inherit;">Anna tends towards making cakes and encouraging people to pay generous amounts for them, it’s like a Mafioso Mary Berry, but most of us rely on the good natured generosity of clients, suppliers, business acquaintances, friends and family</span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Pssst, it’s not a race!!! :) We’ve all done closed-road rides and that’s always fun, obviously the Surrey leg is an area we know and cycle a lot so we’ll be looking for lots of our supporters to be out there shouting for us. Personally I’ve always been jealous of my marathon-running wife who’s enjoyed a finish up the Mall, that will be a first for me and I’m really looking forward to it.</span></span></div>
<br />Stuffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15806498567164105339noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28608436.post-63244033877357164632015-07-16T13:07:00.000+01:002015-07-18T13:22:35.333+01:00Mont Ventoux, the 'easy' way ...<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You may well recall my dear and valued reader that I was conned into signing up for an arduous charity event spending three days cycling in lovely Provence.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAKp-r8FgHaTnqG0bA09dIgqbd-iGzFtqf0GIXbar1vdW1p5hwHLv79GYdl3fVOWNJV6tUuK7869ngRrrrZ7I3pRd-eZ0HDJfd_ZfzUl_KTIp6TXyz6cLwSgHySH5Ecnwh6U5Bng/s1600/Laureus_MontVentoux_01.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAKp-r8FgHaTnqG0bA09dIgqbd-iGzFtqf0GIXbar1vdW1p5hwHLv79GYdl3fVOWNJV6tUuK7869ngRrrrZ7I3pRd-eZ0HDJfd_ZfzUl_KTIp6TXyz6cLwSgHySH5Ecnwh6U5Bng/s320/Laureus_MontVentoux_01.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">As I mentioned before in my “<a href="http://blogfromthebarn.blogspot.co.uk/2015/04/mallorcan-madness-cautionary-tale.html" target="_blank">That’s only me and Jens Voigt</a>” missive the way it was sold to me was like this:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">" do you fancy a ride in Provence?" </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Well why not, </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">" it's for charity" </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">even better! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">"and finishes climbing Mont Ventoux" </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">hold on, what was that last bit?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">For those sensible folk, those who avoid cycling, Mont Ventoux is a legend, the monster, the destroyer, the toughest climb on the Tour de France, an iconic breaker of souls and legs. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg73qvfuG8ct7GUlsNmxpEt5Fu-pL-V_wakXE0d8FKDiCuzVwjcDxI2nxUC4VN6RIHBzokd0Bqaxt1vZaa5_NsgJiXDMYvy1PEyNSLJNp3rFSFJAwfBP-weCgzxHtzhrbdkvdAT-Q/s1600/Ventoux+SteveT_0056.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg73qvfuG8ct7GUlsNmxpEt5Fu-pL-V_wakXE0d8FKDiCuzVwjcDxI2nxUC4VN6RIHBzokd0Bqaxt1vZaa5_NsgJiXDMYvy1PEyNSLJNp3rFSFJAwfBP-weCgzxHtzhrbdkvdAT-Q/s200/Ventoux+SteveT_0056.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">In the end four members of #TeamBreakfastBike signed up, and in early July we rocked up at Heathrow, in various stages of trepidation to flit to Nice and from there to the first of our host hotels. Although the event organisers delivered amazingly good selection and signage of the routes over the three days they failed to meet my unreasonably high standards on some of the logistical and accommodation factors. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">As an example, on arriving at the first fairly rustic auberge a number of us were informed that actually we were to be housed in a different hotel, within walking distance but would still be joining the core group for supper and breakfast. OK, but our suite for the night turned out to be a room just about big enough for three beds, containing, I guess inevitably, three beds. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This lovely building, rejected by 'Le Probation Service de France' as too spartan for young offenders did have a lovely communal shower area dispensing 5 second bursts of bracing chill and each of the cells had the ability to simultaneously manage the level of both heating and mosquito activity through the simple opening and closing of a window. And that's pretty much it. Oh, to be fair, we were each issued a threadbare towel and a piece of soap when we arrived, It's a long time since I was so forcefully reminded of my time in prison. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Dinner in the more upmarket (relatively) hotel was a classic holiday hotel buffet, can't really fault it and the highlight of the evening for me was spending twenty minutes practicing my execrable French with one of the waitresses before we mutually discovered that we shared Cardiff as a birthplace. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So back to our barracks for lights-out and the less said about that night the better, three middle-aged to elderly, mildly intoxicated blokes each of whom swore blind as the sun came up that they'd all been awake all night listening to the snoring of their roommates. Which begs the question, if none of us slept, who the heck was doing the snoring?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>Day 1 - Verdon to Apt</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Forget the insomniac trombonists, a nice breakfast, setting up the bikes, Provençal sunshine and the prospect of a fine day in the saddle and the world looked immeasurably better. We set off in raggle-taggle groups on our first day full of joie-de-vivre and boundless optimism. Which, for me at least, lasted for nearly 20km until the first horrible hill, I'm not a natural uphill cyclist, my bulk makes me pretty effective going down but makes any incline a challenge, and this thing got to 20% in places. I arrived at the top, giddy and breathless, spreading concern, sweat, part-digested insects, phlegm, swearing, wheezing and gasping amongst my assembled colleagues and then sat on the ground until the world stopped moving.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Recovered, we set off once more, I was now getting warmed up and the countryside was stupendous, field after field of beautiful lavender in full bloom, a perfect purple patchwork interspersed with occasional vineyards, sunflowers and fruit trees. Having got my breath I started to enjoy the ride, to enjoy my fellows in the peloton, old chums and new, and a delightful sense of fellow-feeling and well-being descended which, for me at least, never really went away over the next three days. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We rode some 500km over the three days, long days in the saddle but thankfully, with an adequacy of water stops, really important in 40-42 degree heat. Lunch on the first day was in a large hotel, on the second and third in much more attractive and atmospheric smaller inns.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Our arrival at the new accommodation at the end of day one revealed that we were still three to a room but in a much better class of barrack, spoilt rotten by the discovery of an ensuite toilet (not as much fun as you'd think with three men sharing) and a large rotating-still-air-movement-device attached to the roof.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We took refuge in beer.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>Day 2 and Mont Ventoux.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We set off for this most momentous of days in mundane fashion, boarding a bus to take us to a lavender field some 30km from the mountain where our bikes had been laid amongst the crops. We had a choice of two routes, one (my choice) longer but with a slightly gentler gradient for the first 20km or so. The second route went through the town of Bedoin, the classic Tour de France approach but after my giddy spell on day one I opted for (relative) caution over machismo. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQNTz9oUlsPgewq9ttAhCZpfmwg-qCCt1GEjTg4OCdsaaehXjR24liAS2_T2Soo1L5b_P13sByusKV0CvkhwoIJi7-iyssOgmPTrQU7e9dtxgQdLe2h9Oltw9tW8ZFnj-Y_mgpYg/s1600/Ventoux+SteveT_0077.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQNTz9oUlsPgewq9ttAhCZpfmwg-qCCt1GEjTg4OCdsaaehXjR24liAS2_T2Soo1L5b_P13sByusKV0CvkhwoIJi7-iyssOgmPTrQU7e9dtxgQdLe2h9Oltw9tW8ZFnj-Y_mgpYg/s320/Ventoux+SteveT_0077.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Absolutely loved the ride to the town of Sault where the climb begins, starting among the houses, wending, continually rising through farmland and pasture, still, at this point with the energy to raise a smile at the occasional roadside spectator. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3cAlNmDLR8QZBosdxiyQZVfhVfs-Pv_UKzKd9Y3FqZkF6tSeUeR8PvPU54U_cner3HKiBPcgBvZ_vW0CbZasV4dTcsiUUp9hKM8d3QIPV6IAcSVBR4sa-8l7qLBixnaTCR_GMXg/s1600/2015-07-03+12.49.27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3cAlNmDLR8QZBosdxiyQZVfhVfs-Pv_UKzKd9Y3FqZkF6tSeUeR8PvPU54U_cner3HKiBPcgBvZ_vW0CbZasV4dTcsiUUp9hKM8d3QIPV6IAcSVBR4sa-8l7qLBixnaTCR_GMXg/s320/2015-07-03+12.49.27.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The incline increased and I found myself entering the trees, a</span>fter an hour or so of relentless slog through the forest, beset by flies, heat and younger, fitter folk passing me I eventually emerged from the trees and bimbled along to the next water stop. Here both routes merged at Chalet Reynard for the final slog through the moonscape of chalk, flint, gravel and the broken dreams of many, many cyclists. I knew there was a steepness to the final stretch but didn't realise it was actually about a kilometre or so from the Tommy Simpson memorial (where I stopped to pay respects, and breathe and refuel). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">After what seemed like a lifetime, but was actually two and a bit hours I turned the last corner and in a gesture of bravado, (and to circumnavigate two big fat tourists who chose that moment to lumber into the road) I triumphantly stood up on the pedals and danced like a cycling God to the summit. 1911 metres high and I'd cycled up it, (with only a stop for water and a tip of the hat to Tommy) and frankly my dears, I felt awesome!</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf9FisfEEFr5XfKTr5RhMd0jK3VNWACQVKK1uNbrGmexZVlirgpFDbQPe7KTEpxdatOfzC1Jzk_K6jQEibTxoC4NZUw9dKxJuP_CCaFhYXVu6AMmuBnc-Vun8ZkQRK-GITl8bV6g/s1600/Ventoux+SteveT_0091.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf9FisfEEFr5XfKTr5RhMd0jK3VNWACQVKK1uNbrGmexZVlirgpFDbQPe7KTEpxdatOfzC1Jzk_K6jQEibTxoC4NZUw9dKxJuP_CCaFhYXVu6AMmuBnc-Vun8ZkQRK-GITl8bV6g/s320/Ventoux+SteveT_0091.jpg" width="240" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">After the obligatory self congratulation, congratulating others and 'grinning like an idiot' classic photos, it was off for the amazing downhill, now this is where my ability to turn food and alcohol into bodily mass starts to show benefit, like a giggling tummy tsunami I barrelled down the mountain touching 77kph at one point, a delightful ride to a lovely restaurant for a well-earned lunch. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Following another round of "didn't we do well" with those of the team who'd made it that far and a light lunch of green salad,(and everything else I could lay my sweaty hands on) it was off for the second stage of day Deux. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A controversial bit of route planning meant that there was a second serious hill to be conquered before the relatively flat section back to our hotel. As the temperature was again in the forties, quite a few folk called it a day at the lunch stop but as Eddy Mercx probably said "you don't get a tan in the van" and I must say I, unusually, quite enjoyed the long and arduous uphill. Probably down to the very evident suffering of others on the hill, there's no motivator like schadenfreude. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><b>Day Three - Apt to Aix</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This 'enjoying the last third of a long ride' is a characteristic of your humble correspondent and his cycling style that has long been evident to my co-riders on a number of longer rides, a sluggish first third, starting to enjoy the second third and a positively energetic finish and I'd always put it down to having the sort of musculature that takes an hour or two to get warmed up. I'm now working to a revised theory that suggests that the first couple of hours are simply sweating out the hangover and I'm not actually achieving anything but detox until 40km into the day. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The third day demonstrated this very well with a horrible, horrible, horrible steep climb out of town in the first thirty minutes but once that was accomplished (easier said than done) we moved into a long hot day of attrition, some lovely cycling through some delightful countryside as we meandered toward Aix en Provence accompanied by the cacophonous soundtrack of heat-struck cyclists tumbling off their machines and into the verge and being bundled by the medics into the broom wagon for re-hydration and transport home. </span></div>
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<a href="http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/fundraiser-web/fundraiser/showFundraiserProfilePage.action?userUrl=Stvtomas" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;" target="_blank"><img alt=" Take me to steves fundraising page" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Tn02ZxvrYsWAI0NNMJQNTvwp52sUM4v-ausN7zSwJFY-x983PhpEdysE9ODID3Aw_A6Xq4zFNpiRYHd6zdQ7TQmROSxBFO_p9c3XXwKiH7-QW9aDQgX8ugZ0wYYO25ZpiBsnoQ/s320/IMG_0157.jpg" width="240" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Again, weirdly, I was fine, pacing carefully, not fast but sensible and finishing the day at yet another unremarkable chain hotel with a sense of real achievement, a whole load of new cycling chums, a sharply defined cycling tan, a new appreciation of post-ride recovery drinks (mostly beer) and a couple of grand raised for a very deserving cause.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">What a great trip… Thank you St James's Place for inviting me, and if you’ve not made a small gesture in the direction of the very deserving Laureus, 'Sport for good’ foundation, hie thee to my sponsorship page (click on the shirt) and do the right thing.</span></div>
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Stuffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15806498567164105339noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28608436.post-46595186392664576622015-05-12T16:05:00.000+01:002015-05-12T16:05:22.373+01:00Speed bonny ford, like a hire car in the wind, o'er the sea to Skye ....<span style="font-family: -apple-system-font;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; line-height: 16px;">A few months ago we were dining with some chums and it was unanimously agreed that we should get a small group of us together and spend a couple of days on the Isle of Skye, (for the benefit of the geographically challenged, (we do have some American readers) that's a big island on the West of Scotland. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: -apple-system-font;"><span style="line-height: 16px;">We thought we might do a little cycling, definitely some fine dining, a little strolling on the strand, a few days of much needed chilling out. Inevitably the real world intervened and the list of enthusiasts in the small group dwindled to the extent that it gradually turned into a two night trip for just the missus and I.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We booked into the world renowned restaurant, the Three Chimneys, situated about a century north of anywhere and workplace of a storming chef, winner of three rosettes, a Michelin star, The Great British Menu and many more accolades, Michael Smith. His philosophy at the Three Chimneys is all about very fine dining using local fish, meat and veg and since it's bloody miles from anywhere I suspect that makes both financial sense and meets the current demand for proof of provenance, sustainability and responsible farming, fishing and foraging.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We flew to Inverness, for the first time since our wedding, rented a shiny new Ford Something and set off on the three-and-a-half-hour drive across the country to the magical West. I have to say that I'd forgotten it can sometimes be fun to drive a car but finding myself on roads delightfully free of the many variations of moron who clutter the highways of Surrey, on decent tarmac, across stunning and sparsely populated countryside I arrived at our accommodation with an unusually broad grin on my ugly mug.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_Nh7R-NZT-AeR34doY_9YB_X581Qg9Fi4k1qMJWhdT2VmW7bOLrRiTmwM0rt3RP4lENswpA3HyuRcQ-rKXQYFfxBrawP_jQc5SYk5RNPqjECxInfjw9_2bHKolDVjSVA67tDJEg/s1600/three-chimneys.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_Nh7R-NZT-AeR34doY_9YB_X581Qg9Fi4k1qMJWhdT2VmW7bOLrRiTmwM0rt3RP4lENswpA3HyuRcQ-rKXQYFfxBrawP_jQc5SYk5RNPqjECxInfjw9_2bHKolDVjSVA67tDJEg/s320/three-chimneys.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The restaurant has half a dozen rooms in an adjacent building, open for a year or so and delightfully and thoughtfully appointed. It's definitely a well-done operation and the rooms bit deserves the five star label.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The staff were welcoming, surprisingly multinational, (where are the local kids?) thoughtful, professional and seemed to really enjoy their work, nice folk doing good stuff.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We had time to unpack, shower and enjoy a G&T before dinner, we were only there for two nights, the first in the restaurant, the second would be at the'Kitchen Table'. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The restaurant, bearing in mind its remoteness, was packed, we enjoyed a delightful three courses with a nice bottle of pink from an intimidating wine list then returned to the lounge in 'the House over by' (they're confused by grammar, the Scots). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Thanks to the ministrations of the hospitable Scot (that's both his name, and his nationality) I was, after 59 years on this planet finally introduced to a whisky that I actually enjoyed drinking, a delight enhanced on the following eve when I was instructed in the use of a pipette of water to free the aromatics.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Up the next morn to an excellent breakfast, cooked perfectly, served with warmth, enthusiasm, a great view of rain,wind, rain and more rain. I'll not mention the weather again because it remained pretty much liquid and grey through the visit. Strangely though, I think that works for this ragged, rugged, rural land.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We did some desultory sightseeing, empty roads, straggly villages, too many art galleries and craft shops selling pretty much every possible view of an otter.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The harbour in Portree was pretty and our visit there was (for me at least) much enhanced by a chance encounter with Alan, an eccentric and dysfunctional visitor from England with a mild personality disorder and extremely poor decision-making skills when it comes to selecting an opponent for a grumpiest old man contest. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We returned early to the hotel and enjoyed the rainswept views through the rainswept windows of the rainswept loch. We read our books, took tea and relaxed. Relaxing is not one of my strong suits but if you feel the need to relax, this is absolutely the right place to do it.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpslVu74Gki0AVkydbzclJZGWU8R4dHm0yIy13DKC267c3bdZ8-zN7icu1Kvlr3ZJTSGsTA7y_E3jgWev4ayTUpi8_Ob7MiT_fOF81v02ev8x4SoZjg3YfxboyfTjfNTeqxdATLg/s1600/IMG_0351.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpslVu74Gki0AVkydbzclJZGWU8R4dHm0yIy13DKC267c3bdZ8-zN7icu1Kvlr3ZJTSGsTA7y_E3jgWev4ayTUpi8_Ob7MiT_fOF81v02ev8x4SoZjg3YfxboyfTjfNTeqxdATLg/s320/IMG_0351.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So, supper time. Off to the kitchen table, a six seater high table, massive wooden pieces of furniture in a well lit annexe to the restaurant kitchen. We, and two more couples of evidently keen foodie types were seated and her ladyship was delighted to see that the "most attractive chef" her words, not mine, (and she's going to have to explain that to Tom Kerridge next time she sees him) was on station. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I've been in a few high quality restaurant kitchens now, and the thing that impressed, as here, was the sense of ordered calm, no shouting, no panic, no drama, lots of activity, many smiles, much communication, a comfortable interaction between all the kitchen staff, extended to and including the waiters. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Gordon Ramsey is a great chef but the prolific TV coverage of his angry, sweary, shouty style has done the profession few favours.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We were invited to stroll around and chat with the cooks, really tough to do, it seems a little like wandering into an operating theatre and asking the surgeon "what does that bit do?" However once we'd individually plucked up, (or had a glass or two of) courage we found the brigade focussed, friendly and informative, a really relaxed team, and they seemed quite inured to the process of having these idiots galumphing around getting in the way and asking silly questions. A tribute to the team and I'm assuming it's partly a side effect of this happening every night. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibHx641I_FeIUjpSoWPmw-20t1QIbwD-UtI8oqXbq42ydknh7w_K4FhbdpG4d2yBzMRhukzjW6ZMsNGJIDiYRqPYuzzCWolysZ1rvkJfV8mYwcxUfsB4lKMiMahqmaZ3lRXljDbw/s1600/IMG_0356.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibHx641I_FeIUjpSoWPmw-20t1QIbwD-UtI8oqXbq42ydknh7w_K4FhbdpG4d2yBzMRhukzjW6ZMsNGJIDiYRqPYuzzCWolysZ1rvkJfV8mYwcxUfsB4lKMiMahqmaZ3lRXljDbw/s320/IMG_0356.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We all had the "Taste of Skye" menu, eight courses and for most of us 'the wine flight', carefully chosen wines to compliment each course.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I can't fault the food, I am not a fan of shellfish and we'd flagged that in advance but when he mentioned it I asked the chef not to substitute anything, he probably had already decided I was too high maintenance but I'm trying to expand my piscatorial horizons and although the first four courses were crab,scallop,prawn and a variation of Cullin Skink I enjoyed each dish in its own right. I'd not have selected them from a menu but I devoured them enthusiastically along with the lamb, the venison, the cheese and the marmalade cake soufflé which was demonstrated for us, then cooked and delivered with Drambuie and panache.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We were invited to join Michael in the kitchen as the final few dishes were being dispatched to the front of house and thanks to my excellent volunteering skills I found myself plating up the venison dish for the last two diners. I felt that I did OK and the plate went out with no last minute fixing but the young guy slicing the meat was not letting me anywhere near his knife despite his boss suggesting that I'd be fine. I think after my eight glasses of carefully chosen "finest wines known to humanity" his judgement was probably spot-on.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_la4H9hqBpGu1q7Pe4tE-IONO8ujnr9fkRgiW_lUtP4-gcb5QMoeYxatUgXdlAr1_ug6pauro-Cw78hBqWwlmloND6YorTUblNKUf85wWDlwoaBhHp5c-mMFMcuxBupNpagiPZw/s1600/IMG_0364.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_la4H9hqBpGu1q7Pe4tE-IONO8ujnr9fkRgiW_lUtP4-gcb5QMoeYxatUgXdlAr1_ug6pauro-Cw78hBqWwlmloND6YorTUblNKUf85wWDlwoaBhHp5c-mMFMcuxBupNpagiPZw/s320/IMG_0364.jpg" width="238" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The star turn, Michael Smith was an excellent host, really intense, focussed, affable but definitely in his space, and definitely in charge. Sadly he finishes at the Three Chimneys at the end of the month. A shame for the restaurant but they've an excellent replacement in the shape of Scott Davies (who has got Welshness going for him). Michael has has been there ten years and it is a beautiful and otherworldly place but it's a bloody long way from anywhere and maybe he'll turn up somewhere more accessible. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Definitely a highly skilled cook, great chef and 'twas an education to watch him running a kitchen.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">He did inscribe my souvenir menu with "probably the best sous I've ever worked with" but I suspect that statement may contain large elements of tongue in cheek.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">If you've the inclination, the time, the enthusiasm for good food and fine folk, if your relationship with your credit card company can take the strain, I'd recommend the Three Chimneys. Go on, relax...</span></div>
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Stuffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15806498567164105339noreply@blogger.com0Colbost, Isle of Skye, Highland IV55, UK57.446542000000008 -6.651033999999981531.924507500000008 -47.959627999999981 82.968576500000012 34.657560000000018tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28608436.post-13216968322810032582015-04-08T19:58:00.000+01:002015-04-09T20:08:23.994+01:00Mallorcan madness, a cautionary tale ...<div>
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So foolishly I signed up to do a very silly bike ride in July, the way it was sold to me was, </div>
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" do you fancy a ride in Provence?" </div>
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Well yes, why not, </div>
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" it's for charity" </div>
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even better! </div>
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"and finishes climbing Mont Ventoux" </div>
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hold on, what was that last bit?</div>
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For those sensible folk who avoid cycling Mont Ventoux is a legend, the destroyer, the toughest climb on the Tour de France, an iconic breaker of souls and legs. </div>
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But I'd already said "yes".</div>
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So I started fundraising here <a href="http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/fundraiser-web/fundraiser/showFundraiserProfilePage.action?userUrl=Stvtomas" target="_blank">Click here to donate</a>! </div>
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And then I had a chat with my chum Richard who does lots of charity cycle stuff and runs a <a href="http://troisetapes.org/mallorca2015/" target="_blank">company</a> specialising in such things. He suggested that the pair of us slope off for a weekend for a little gentle hill-climbing practice, well, it sounded like a laugh. </div>
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Why not?</div>
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It turned out that the devious little weasel had already got a training camp organised in Mallorca for very skinny fanatical cyclists to get even skinnier, faster, fitter and more fanatical. </div>
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I don't know how I keep falling for these things.</div>
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On a grey misty Friday we arrived in Las Palmas for a week of too many hills, too many beers, just the right amount of cake, too many kilometres and a chance to ride around many of the most lovely bits of the island, vaguely visible through the constant red mist that largely and consistently obscured my view of the world. </div>
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There were a number of things making this week attractive to the lithe young whippets who rolled up, significantly the presence of some very nice and really, really famous professionals including the <br />
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It's only bloody Jens Voigt....</h3>
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legendary Jens Voigt, (Yes, Jens bloody Voigt) up and coming superstar Songezo Jim, a wiry wisp of pure Northern class James Moss and various guest riders and supper chums including the lovely (3 time World Record holding, Olympic Gold Winning MBE and really nice lass) Dani King. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirQBgyW0E11d3bHuHKA67lZUxPYO8o5633c-QHUXhdCFZTRET2ZWXOzQDkZfRnWtLwE3GiVAgNETsR90I6Kgj53KtxKVkZPRH22zrJlKMnQNu6JpeqDfNqCjQ6Rufvad2CSH4Z5A/s1600/RG1_2562+-+2015-03-23+at+11-27-52.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirQBgyW0E11d3bHuHKA67lZUxPYO8o5633c-QHUXhdCFZTRET2ZWXOzQDkZfRnWtLwE3GiVAgNETsR90I6Kgj53KtxKVkZPRH22zrJlKMnQNu6JpeqDfNqCjQ6Rufvad2CSH4Z5A/s1600/RG1_2562+-+2015-03-23+at+11-27-52.jpg" height="133" width="200" /></a>My interaction with most of these folk, to be fair, (away from the dinner table and bar) mostly involved feeling a welcome helping hand in the small of the back as they pushed the old fool up a gentle incline, I think they drew lots every morning, more likely it was a short straw exercise. I also got great support (well, being shouted at from the support van) from the Cosaveli team, Mark and Michelle, Wavey Davey and the lovely Mrs G. A special thank you to Henry, my guardian and coach who shoved, shared and supported way beyond the call of duty. </div>
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Mallorca is a great place for cycling and luckily the weather was fair for much of the week. I will now confess that I'd been steeling myself for the cries of disappointment that would inevitably greet my Wednesday breakfast declaration that I was taking a desperately-needed day off but fortunately (for one of us) the day dawned so wet, violently windy and immeasurably miserable that we all moped around complaining that we couldn't go out. And secretly, dear reader, I was so relieved. </div>
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The week finished with more of the same, breakfast,banter,slathering cream into gussets, a Lycra convention outside the hotel then a ride into the lovely countryside gradually, naturally, separating into groups A (nutters) B (more nutters) and C (me and my minder). The ride done we'd regroup at the hotel over beer, chat over the highlights of the day and answer polite and interested questions like, "and where have you been all day Steve?"</div>
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That's right, it's only bloody Jens Voigt.....again</h3>
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Joking aside I enjoyed a delightful week, I learnt a lot, thus disproving that piece of "old dog, new tricks" misinformation and it's just possible I got a teeny bit fitter.<br />
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What I mostly did enjoy was (off their bikes) some really pleasant people, diverse, engaging, interesting and supportive so a big thank you to all the Trois Etapes training camp attendees and I might see you next year… (then again, I might not)</div>
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A pithy comment from multiple Tour de France jersey winner and previous holder of the one-hour record Jens Voigt</div>
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Me "I quite enjoyed riding in the velodrome"</div>
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Jensie " well of course you did, no hills” </div>
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So true...</div>
Stuffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15806498567164105339noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28608436.post-74093145101426043472015-02-23T15:31:00.000+00:002015-02-23T20:48:04.239+00:00A very organic approach to engineering, bamboo bicycles...<span style="font-family: -apple-system-font; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;"><b><u>The back story</u></b>, my Christmas present this year (from the current wife) was a two-day workshop building a bicycle, from bamboo! A pretty niche idea but I'd enjoyed making my fixie (<a href="http://blogfromthebarn.blogspot.co.uk/2014/06/a-fixation-fixie-flirtation-with.html" target="_blank">click here for that tale</a>) so much last year that Mrs Stuffy felt that I'd like this. </span><br />
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Bikes made from wood? I admit that it took me by surprise but apparently bamboo is a very strong and light material and anyone who has seen it used as death-defying scaffolding in the far East knows how much load, stress and movement it can bear. The company, <a href="http://www.bamboobicycleclub.org/">www.bamboobicycleclub.org</a>, sell kits (for home assembly) and also coached sessions in their studios in increasingly trendy Hackney Wick. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJa1_oSJAvfOoIoSH6OhcAiuyx-YhZ8LbT6iSuKzxdqtm79yi5-yjW0BClJcQ5eRcuefDTIdBEfH9-rbIp3gQGJqqBJRjCDa6uNcWU7YqK0DRqlYjgGsVeGPbDy0dF6jnDzjkObw/s1600/IMG_4738.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJa1_oSJAvfOoIoSH6OhcAiuyx-YhZ8LbT6iSuKzxdqtm79yi5-yjW0BClJcQ5eRcuefDTIdBEfH9-rbIp3gQGJqqBJRjCDa6uNcWU7YqK0DRqlYjgGsVeGPbDy0dF6jnDzjkObw/s1600/IMG_4738.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a>So I researched (well I googled 'bamboo bikes') various possible bikes and despite the obvious challenges, and the relatively small number of examples I decided to build a mountain bike, no real logic other than the amount of MTB bits I had lying around and a fortuitous, for them, marketing email from Chain reaction cycles offering a half price groupset. For the uninitiated that's the brakes, gears, pedals, cranks and chain, all designed to work together. A few late night drunken internet shopping sessions later and I had a bulging box of bits, saddle, handlebars, forks, wheels and tyres. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Vlt87YsFoo7fcH_IgkqH6r9doYRI5SXQJyFWVHVOKP9TCrEUK-UYNTCXBgFMFyF_7nxV0_G9h65Gj8EpWVrZivKsfeCeoyBwo3M2GjsmWs8EmzYtdZZMIovyIdwc8ExjmMpWyw/s1600/IMG_4740.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Vlt87YsFoo7fcH_IgkqH6r9doYRI5SXQJyFWVHVOKP9TCrEUK-UYNTCXBgFMFyF_7nxV0_G9h65Gj8EpWVrZivKsfeCeoyBwo3M2GjsmWs8EmzYtdZZMIovyIdwc8ExjmMpWyw/s1600/IMG_4740.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a>The workshop itself simply delivers (hopefully) the frame, 7 pieces of bamboo, custom designed to fit my bodily dimensions (normally a secret between myself and my tailor). These bamboo bits are bonded together with delightfully gloopy mix of hemp and epoxy resin to make a structurally sound bike frame capable (allegedly) of taking my not inconsiderable weight crashing down a hillside. Making it pretty and adding all the expensive metal and plastic to turn it from bits of wood into a rideable bike is phase two of the project.</div>
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<b><u>Day 1</u></b></div>
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Thus it was that I arose at silly o'clock and schlepped on a Saturday morn to a chilly space filled with bamboo bikes, bamboo bike frames in various stages of construction, there I found two couples (dad&son and sister&brother) of similarly slightly bemused punters and James, our coach, instructor and bamboo evangelist for the weekend.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLmOTN71OnolOYn5KsMBoKyURTKxKq0OWMJpAKCPCJxCn5ho6DcUYDNXtRSXh8gJ73EGtrQfOCU4FVooumcGzOLnIHO9Xq_B8QNZxEf78jTBtC-KDERQa2aD98dzn2enRXhekupA/s1600/IMG_4739.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLmOTN71OnolOYn5KsMBoKyURTKxKq0OWMJpAKCPCJxCn5ho6DcUYDNXtRSXh8gJ73EGtrQfOCU4FVooumcGzOLnIHO9Xq_B8QNZxEf78jTBtC-KDERQa2aD98dzn2enRXhekupA/s1600/IMG_4739.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIaUAmTRqrZ37nDjB65UhUhHOf273FFNnITgU8XCd3JyIdq0DlA5W0NWZBiF3vnSkgGTuMnK4Mvsi0gmQFvnvEZkGKyqeMTTvZ1s7fBhf11WmejxWhgiwPr8R1LPvmCBqAfEwrtA/s1600/IMG_4742.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIaUAmTRqrZ37nDjB65UhUhHOf273FFNnITgU8XCd3JyIdq0DlA5W0NWZBiF3vnSkgGTuMnK4Mvsi0gmQFvnvEZkGKyqeMTTvZ1s7fBhf11WmejxWhgiwPr8R1LPvmCBqAfEwrtA/s1600/IMG_4742.JPG" height="200" width="200" /></a>James had prepared aluminium jigs to hold the bamboo elements in the right place based on our physical dimensions and the type of bike we'd each selected. The other participants had opted for simpler challenges, road bikes, and James cheered me up by congratulating them on their wisdom in not taking on the technical challenges that I'd accepted. So far, so bloody typical,sorry, so good.</div>
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We picked out various lengths of bamboo, learning about fibre lengths, nodes, strengths and weakness and using various saws, knives, drills and jigs I then chopped pieces out of my fingers, thumbs and forearms until we had something that looked a bit like the pre-printed scale drawings we were supposed to be working toward. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid298gt4JcCzJ6vFoH_qBBfnFogpTcief5afbJvdnPJV4ngcoj9LVjeScu3FmmdKGjj8fGPpMbfKRodqQuJqVwrmmAEkz3NF5mNpGrwr5xGK2lS8YGM1T8BjDKMb4MHvnjXYztLQ/s1600/IMG_4747.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid298gt4JcCzJ6vFoH_qBBfnFogpTcief5afbJvdnPJV4ngcoj9LVjeScu3FmmdKGjj8fGPpMbfKRodqQuJqVwrmmAEkz3NF5mNpGrwr5xGK2lS8YGM1T8BjDKMb4MHvnjXYztLQ/s1600/IMG_4747.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGcaloRSGE1O7myNAIWShRgf7sJjNmCzOpUGG-zzufa5kNdMWA_lRvVX5Xn-PdwSPAhUlaiw3YWHTayhgGeFNMnam7AG0jGw7EPd67mlGvUJtJ_tiC7lZbNPkVlb8dbEhqi3-z_Q/s1600/IMG_4749.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGcaloRSGE1O7myNAIWShRgf7sJjNmCzOpUGG-zzufa5kNdMWA_lRvVX5Xn-PdwSPAhUlaiw3YWHTayhgGeFNMnam7AG0jGw7EPd67mlGvUJtJ_tiC7lZbNPkVlb8dbEhqi3-z_Q/s1600/IMG_4749.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a>Maybe it's James' laid back approach, maybe my choice of bike but it turned out to be a far more flexible and organic process than a classic engineering one, solving challenges and redesigning bits of the frame as the practicalities caused a series of minor compromises. </div>
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The others rushed on, unhindered by the need to consider fat tyres and disc brakes but by the end of day one we'd all assembled our frames, tacked together with glue, tape and in my case wishful thinking. Off home to shower off a bucketful of sawdust, stickiness and sweat, a sustaining supper and a good nights sleep.</div>
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<b><u>Day 2</u></b></div>
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and a beautiful sunrise as I headed into London</div>
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So,here I am in sunny, chilly Hackney just a stones throw from the Olympic Velodrome, on day two of the bamboo bicycle workshop, the day which I like to think of as Gloopy Sunday. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnc8-Hc58gmD6PVPHBAe8fRE0cThmNNY7Fmb1fvEQhkpJDjd9XTGpR9WAfEvCd9auzxFYwcLQ3kajz2CPF5UInO9aco1JWigHI_LzH1OSgRGKW6AHSm_LsTYPd0hvEZ2zFwSY9xQ/s1600/IMG_4769.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnc8-Hc58gmD6PVPHBAe8fRE0cThmNNY7Fmb1fvEQhkpJDjd9XTGpR9WAfEvCd9auzxFYwcLQ3kajz2CPF5UInO9aco1JWigHI_LzH1OSgRGKW6AHSm_LsTYPd0hvEZ2zFwSY9xQ/s1600/IMG_4769.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMh45jtakqLeBkSi42yP4mK17x_6kkb5SFtemu9AMCJeTFvqk_zzP9M86fDHVKS3iiqcSTkSzRMOb3p2r68YJIn_lmeeHXsBG89DO8aWoYZPIT5G4tVccUQDkCqdVWkBgY4MyP4w/s1600/IMG_4772.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMh45jtakqLeBkSi42yP4mK17x_6kkb5SFtemu9AMCJeTFvqk_zzP9M86fDHVKS3iiqcSTkSzRMOb3p2r68YJIn_lmeeHXsBG89DO8aWoYZPIT5G4tVccUQDkCqdVWkBgY4MyP4w/s1600/IMG_4772.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a>The areas where the lengths of frame join are to be held together and reinforced by strips of hemp cloth saturated with epoxy resin, the basis of fibreglass. This layering and wrapping is similar to the process of making bikes and cars from carbon fibre, similar I think in the same way that TeamBreakfastBike working up an appetite on a Saturday morning is like Team Sky attacking the Tour de France. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHEZvc6_53KvgnxERlwH_3ONQ7_wO26_OKVaFlQ5ANno_xbZsAjJvUhpMK6GrzsVK0jDoTGlYK74nUYPkqKuxZIJ_wJoC5QNDi3nTq_d9Fy5CR2nmDUZPB6VVV9p2PnBSjLw-zMg/s1600/IMG_4776.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHEZvc6_53KvgnxERlwH_3ONQ7_wO26_OKVaFlQ5ANno_xbZsAjJvUhpMK6GrzsVK0jDoTGlYK74nUYPkqKuxZIJ_wJoC5QNDi3nTq_d9Fy5CR2nmDUZPB6VVV9p2PnBSjLw-zMg/s1600/IMG_4776.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a>The glooping, wrapping, slopping, sliding, slicing and taping was pretty much full-on all morning, but by late lunchtime we'd jointed all of our frames. We made a cursory attempt to lessen the amount of gum on clothes and skin and then strolled into the Arctic winds to a local Hipster hangout <a href="http://cratebrewery.com/" target="_blank">the Crate Brewery</a> for some excellent pizza and engaging chat whilst the miracle of exothermic chemistry turned our squidgy matting into rock hard lumps of plastic and cloth ready to be sanded, smoothed, filled, sanded, filled, sanded, smoothed, polished, painted and lacquered.</div>
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The BambooBeast (as I've provisionally named it) is now back in my workshop, ready for the next phase...</div>
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I really enjoyed the two days with James and the team and I'm looking forward to the next week or two of organic engineering... </div>
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Watch this space...</div>
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Stuffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15806498567164105339noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28608436.post-45422017762898294912015-02-18T13:47:00.000+00:002015-02-20T13:50:13.455+00:00Set the bar low, enjoy the surprise, a movie review of KingsmanOne of the inevitable outcomes of living in a polite, democracy, and many social commentators seem to gloss over this, is that one often finds oneself watching a film which would not have been ones first choice.<br />
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So it was that I found myself, my wife and some really decisive friends watching a class cast, Michael Caine, Mark Strong, Colin Firth and Samuel L Jackson hamming it up in Kingsman. I was not looking forward to this, the spy parody has been done badly (The execrable Avengers) and very well, Austin Powers and True Lies leap to mind.<br />
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I feared the former based on reviews and trailers.<br />
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However, as it went on I started to enjoy it, the lead character played by Taron Egerton developed in a predictable but well-judged way, Colin Firth never looked comfortable but kept on trouping, manfully. There are some nice touches, the blade-runner assassin played by Sofia Boutelle is a great concept, I bet the James Bond producers are kicking themselves for not thinking of her.<br />
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The violence was cartoonish but hey, that's what one expects from Vaughn and Goldman. I particularly enjoyed the Busby Berkely-like fireworks, I'll not spoil it for you but you'll see what I mean,<br />
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Kingsman doesn't take itself too seriously and I'd caution anyone who sees it to take a similar relaxed approach. I think the message is that it's surprising how low expectations can set the scene for a surprisingly enjoyable experience.<br />
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A parodical paradoxical Haiku<br />
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Justice is dealt out<br />
With colour, style and panache<br />
Foolish,fancy funStuffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15806498567164105339noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28608436.post-20614834474879039962014-10-01T16:57:00.000+01:002014-10-13T17:08:19.526+01:00Team Tuxedo cruise round CorsicaThere's an annual thing we do, every year as it happens, where I, the missus and a couple of chums pop off to stay in the South of France with another couple of chums and we all put on matching cycling jerseys and we then pedal around for a couple of days alternately cycling (not the missus, she's part of the support team), drinking coffee, drinking wine, drinking beer, drinking more wine, well, you get the picture.<br />
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We call it the Team Tuxedo Tour, last year we journeyed from lovely Vence in the Alpes Maritimes to delightful San Remo in Italy, an excellent and deeply enjoyable trip despite the presence of some seriously hilly bits.<br />
Some excellent meals, good wine, good companions and a great way to spend a long weekend.<br />
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This year we needed a new challenge. But where to go?<br />
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The 2013 Tour de France had kicked off on the lovely island of Corsica and I, nay we, had all been impressed by what a delightful cycling venue that island looked, the prospect of effortlessly cycling through majestic gorges and into ever-opening vitas of beautiful azure seas and delightful fishing villages.<br />
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Well, it had to be done.<br />
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We did some research (although somehow missed the bit about all the uphill stretches) planned a four day trip, the ferry ride from Nice to Bastia is about 5 hours, we ordered fresh jerseys, we polished our bikes.<br />
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Deepest thanks to our Support team, Elaine, Mrs Stuffy and Marie-Pierre.<br />
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And serious Kudos to the cyclists,<br />
Myself (l'ours volant), Dicky Bird (l'oiseaux),Chris our (Chef de l'equipe) Roy (Le Roi) and Ricardo (Le Facteur-he always delivers)<br />
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We headed for Heathrow, fluttered to France and enjoyed a delightful trip around the Cap Corse.<br />
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I'm not going into too much detail because there is a video so do feel free to click on the handsome folk in the photo and enjoy the ride, or not, as you wish.<br />
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<br />Stuffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15806498567164105339noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28608436.post-73878630102563003862014-09-05T14:21:00.000+01:002014-09-08T15:06:22.763+01:00Masterchef pop-up restaurant, stretching a TV reality show way past its natural limits?<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;"><br />
We were intrigued to hear from those merry folk at American Express that in order to wring as much cash from a TV programme and monetise even further the Masterchef franchise (my words) there was to be a pop-up restaurant in Southwark serving a series of tasting menu meals featuring the winner and runners up from this years (and previous) series of succesful amateur cooks. Apparently the tickets for the four week run sold out within 4 days, Mrs Stuffy being the on-line shopping apex predator that she is we and a couple of Masterchef fan chums, were duly booked for day 1.</span><br />
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</span> <span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;">The big day dawned and some hours after dawn we duly turned up, smartly dressed and keen to be impressed, ready for a glass of something refreshing before our 7:30pm experience at the pop-up restaurant set up over two floors of the Bluefin building delivering nice, but not spectacular views of the river, the city and the Shard.</span><br />
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</div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;">This was the opening night so it was only to be expected that there might be some teething trouble, such as the astonishment generated by ordering a gin and tonic at the bar, gin, yes they had gin, and if I would wait a minute they would send a chap to get some tonic, I'm not an expert in running a bar but I am thinking that there is probably a good chance that a gin and tonic might be requested at some time during the evening. </div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghMXRgbUzlEypMme-feQiNc1S_rpQPrG1vkjAfdZF8crIDCMD-OhdZeKdp2_Zy3SiJUg9rjEcdQx2SmGEK6IkosVBnGeN0urCikUhyMhz4fIpOaMlspjN-uVMrLqMfAH3Ei_i2zA/s1600/Shard+Glen+Steve.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghMXRgbUzlEypMme-feQiNc1S_rpQPrG1vkjAfdZF8crIDCMD-OhdZeKdp2_Zy3SiJUg9rjEcdQx2SmGEK6IkosVBnGeN0urCikUhyMhz4fIpOaMlspjN-uVMrLqMfAH3Ei_i2zA/s1600/Shard+Glen+Steve.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a>Hey oh, it only took 15 minutes to locate, transport and deliver the tonic to my now somewhat diluted gin. Teething troubles. So we took some photos and when the novelty of that palled we trundled inside at the appointed hour to be told that actually we wouldn't be fed till 8:00 and should get back to the bar for 30 minutes, I asked if we would be offered a complimentary glass of fizz but apparently that was a ludicrous suggestion so we instead identified our allotted table and purchased a bottle of Sancerre to keep us busy, we'd finished that one and were halfway through the second when we were finally served our starters around 9:15. </div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;">The starter was a very pleasant char sui, a Chinese steamed bun but instead of the classic approach of filling it then cooking, it had been cooked as a roll, then sliced and a slice of cooked pork inserted, this was accompanied by a (rather dry) prawn arancini both served very cool on the same plate with between them about 5 little blobs of sauces,dressings. </div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;">This was one dish created by components from two of the cooks, and of course the problem was that it was just that, two, not really complimentary,dishes on one plate and with little clarity about, for example, what blob was appropriate for which starter. The staff, again hired for the project, were not full-time restaurant folk, and were not well briefed. They were enthusiastic and they tried really hard but ultimately were not really helpful. The steamed Chinese roll was lovely but it was way too big and totally swamped the tiny slice of over-cooked pork. </div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;">So we drank some more wine and time moved on and eventually supper arrived, a lamb dish, served cool, with a not entirely pleasant sausage and some gravy. Alongside that, you know, I just can't remember, maybe a prawn (again) samosa? It's all very well defining a meal as a tasting menu but it should be more than a collection of things, no matter how tasty, there's a necessary flow, a theme a story that a meal should convey otherwise it's a bit like the demo lads and lassies one encounters during a circuit of Costco, "fancy trying some Gorgonzola?", "a little pasta?", "a croissant?", "some cherry liqueur?" It just didn't work for me. </div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;">Waiting for the main course had seen off the 2nd bottle of Sancerre and a quartet of apologetic complementary champagnes so we ordered a bottle of red to see us through to dessert. I'm not proud of the fact that apparently, instead of quietly enjoying the tasty but cold and tardy offerings of the TV wannabe chef hopefuls and the Masterchef branding machine surrounding them I was loudly sounding off about the transient nature of celebrity, the power of social media and god knows what else. I've since been told off good and proper by the lady who currently holds the title of Mrs Stuffy, (currently).</div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;">Desserts arrived around 10:30 or "getting on for bedtime" if you've been mixing food tasting with wine gulping. Again this was a curious melange, a platter mixing a very nice Thai-flavoured dried, candied, fruit medley with an adequate bitter chocolate dessert, both fine on their own terms but really not great platefellows. </div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;">We'd a train to catch and couldn't linger but a final cock-up over the bill seemed an appropriate end to a very mixed, and mixed-up experience. I'm not sure what I should have expected, I think I was open minded on arrival but I suspect that this event was not about the food,the service, or the customer. This was a fan event, the equivalent of queuing (and paying) to see a movie star on the red carpet, and that isn't something I would ever do, in my opinion these folk are just ordinary people who won a cookery show because they're good cooks, so I really, really think that the food, the service and the customers do matter and the ability to "actually see them" putting too cold food on a cold plate alongside something else inappropriate doesn't really cut it for me.</div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;">But apparently that's a minority view. So it goes...</div><div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</div>Stuffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15806498567164105339noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28608436.post-90958519814712210652014-08-22T16:23:00.000+01:002014-09-01T16:33:10.027+01:00Tour de France, no, not that one, another one, this one ...<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: x-small;">A number of things suddenly occurred to us, I'd not had a holiday for a long while, although her ladyship had sloped off to Mykonos with the girls for 10 days (which could be seen as a break for both of us). We wanted to meet up with family in the Dordogne, we'd also been promising to visit chums in Languedoc-Rousillon ever since they finished building their house some nine years ago. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: x-small;">So we bought a breathalyser kit, a big bag of sweets jumped in the motor and set off for the Channel Tunnel. The plan was essentially to tour a few expat, or semi-expat, family and chums, stop at each for a day or two, then leave before our presence became objectionable (normally about an hour if I'm on form). I believe the technical term for this type of trip is freeloading so in order to arrive bearing gifts we stocked up on home-made ketchup, chutneys, marmalades, sloe gin, sloe port and garlands of dried chillies. In my view one of the many problems with French cooking and the produce available to support said style of cuisine is the adamant refusal to accept the existence of spicy food, even to the extent of blanding down tagines and other North African dishes to avoid exciting the somnolent French taste buds. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;">We pootled our way southward, enjoying relatively clear roads, Paris was particularly pleasant with the population crammed, I'm guessing, into Deauville and Le Touqet. We'd invested in one of the telepeage transponders that let you cruise through the tolls at 30kph but my nerves failed every time, causing me to hit the brakes seconds before the beep and the raising of the barrier. I did form a few strong opinions as we progressed specifically with regard to our EU chums from the lovely land of Belgium, where I'm guessing that the driving test is totally verbal with no practical examination. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;">Something along the lines of:</span><br />
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"Do you have a sense of direction"?</div>
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"Non"</div>
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"Do you have a Volvo"?</div>
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"Oui"</div>
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"Do you have any spatial awareness or peripheral vision"?</div>
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"Non"</div>
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"this switch that makes the flashy orange lights on the corners of the car go on and off, when should you use it"?</div>
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"Immediately <u>after</u> any random change of direction, speed or mind"</div>
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"Do you have a ridiculous caravan"?</div>
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"Oui"</div>
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"Do you have many friends with ridiculous caravans and Volvos from whom you just cannot bear to be parted"?</div>
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"Oui"</div>
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"Congratulations here is your Belgian driving licence, now get out of here, head south, carry the message of Belgian chauffeuring incompetence across the EU".</div>
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"Merci, er, which way is south again"?</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHztijHUXMR_hNJYQcMaOZRCdxzIM6UF6j5IbHW6G7bLy1vOvI8InIb4Gt5icpjDPsR2ME98Wc_8uszbYnhtOPQ7ntAcmnA0PJd3fg8JbDjV_knjuBvU_YxawmT-FTShq1kl7Isw/s1600/IMG_3644.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHztijHUXMR_hNJYQcMaOZRCdxzIM6UF6j5IbHW6G7bLy1vOvI8InIb4Gt5icpjDPsR2ME98Wc_8uszbYnhtOPQ7ntAcmnA0PJd3fg8JbDjV_knjuBvU_YxawmT-FTShq1kl7Isw/s1600/IMG_3644.JPG" height="200" width="200" /></a>Anyway, we had a lovely time in the Dordogne, indulging Mrs Stuffy in her seemingly endless pursuit of curious earrings and I heartily recommend, as an exercise in conversational French, trying to stop a gang of French market ladies from flogging her every piece of broccante bijou tat on their stalls without creating an international incident. Mrs S is also the only person I know who will take the side of the vendor when her loving husband is trying to haggle the hawkers down to a less obscene price. </div>
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One of the highlights of this trip was the cunning way we managed to arrive everywhere just after the good weather had moved on, or a day or so before it arrived. Luckily this meant more time to enjoy pleasant meals, lovely wines and the company of friends without any of the distraction caused by a game of golf, lazing in the sunshine or playing in the pools. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3cXn8NlNQlNaJ2NHv9xAIBc2ttREpB7ECwsRbJEflwJ-Kf-CCrEKr2Hjie7YcDDeA1-9xFWYnzRqcBoeCsOiO89BgnIypHcr4gVCGTjgtYIU3sntmx0i2-aVU1br8ZnFJDHy_rA/s1600/IMG_3649.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3cXn8NlNQlNaJ2NHv9xAIBc2ttREpB7ECwsRbJEflwJ-Kf-CCrEKr2Hjie7YcDDeA1-9xFWYnzRqcBoeCsOiO89BgnIypHcr4gVCGTjgtYIU3sntmx0i2-aVU1br8ZnFJDHy_rA/s1600/IMG_3649.JPG" height="200" width="147" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuHGQuj1V-bMG6tCuvKTzFhagmagwx5aoYaoO7zH6q90ZsGRmRFR6WyGEDdp-GwZpPTHxx_QhKwtfEt-2YCufYedfPm8BBzWnh3gFDip-7ceA9cIpxkz493wPylVTrHrhdwil-Hg/s1600/IMG_3645.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuHGQuj1V-bMG6tCuvKTzFhagmagwx5aoYaoO7zH6q90ZsGRmRFR6WyGEDdp-GwZpPTHxx_QhKwtfEt-2YCufYedfPm8BBzWnh3gFDip-7ceA9cIpxkz493wPylVTrHrhdwil-Hg/s1600/IMG_3645.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a>Moving on South to Limoux and staying with friends in their gorgeous hillside hacienda we were ideally positioned for a train ride followed by an early morning tour of Carcassone, a long postponed destination of choice, a beautiful old walled city which was lovely pre-invasion, early in the morning, enjoying a breakfast in the square, a trundle around the ramparts and in my case a tumble into a muddy clay puddle anointing my beautiful virginal white shorts with a huge brown blot across my taut derrière which might cause amusement, if you were the sort of women (as my two companions seemed to be) who couldn't help giggling incessantly at another's evident discomfort. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN6rlN2Bo0HqTIpP9zFTfTS3mNl5e4KK3u6Z4qSab6wQuvS4kFz5_BAgdEjKup219FA8VrBM-Mt7-LUAgvW1yDQcOO4Vl9_y1xAGXqYL4zVBkimLcyo5E5ZPvGJrZAAsdVxu-i9A/s1600/carcassonne.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN6rlN2Bo0HqTIpP9zFTfTS3mNl5e4KK3u6Z4qSab6wQuvS4kFz5_BAgdEjKup219FA8VrBM-Mt7-LUAgvW1yDQcOO4Vl9_y1xAGXqYL4zVBkimLcyo5E5ZPvGJrZAAsdVxu-i9A/s1600/carcassonne.jpg" height="175" width="320" /></a></div>
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Free financial advice- The tourist trap of Carcassone old city is not the ideal place to buy a reasonably priced pair of replacement shorts. </div>
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Inevitably the hordes started arriving and we left before my tourist tolerance reached breaking point, heading back on the excellent train service, a quick lunch and then off to enjoy a canoe ride on the Aude with a couple of other house guests. </div>
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It's been about thirty years, no, forty, since I was a regular and enthusiastic canoeist but I assumed that old skills would re-awaken and would suffice. The sheer professionalism of the chaps organising the trip was awe inspiring:</div>
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"Can we have helmets?" </div>
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"Non, we've run out" </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG1g2IJw-hDFv76TfXuBNrZrAzx79ndsDe0PcHiutmJzCDOY5DlUCZqakTUaEWtRVCxWzKcFVy6d_vUhNg1R0ElLIeD_WZdDBrJpgEwjKLy9-CsoB77uLgyPUAK3ReUM-AoW9dfg/s1600/Paul+and+steve+Aude+canoe.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG1g2IJw-hDFv76TfXuBNrZrAzx79ndsDe0PcHiutmJzCDOY5DlUCZqakTUaEWtRVCxWzKcFVy6d_vUhNg1R0ElLIeD_WZdDBrJpgEwjKLy9-CsoB77uLgyPUAK3ReUM-AoW9dfg/s1600/Paul+and+steve+Aude+canoe.jpeg" height="128" width="200" /></a>"Can we have a briefing?" </div>
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Sure, come downstream, stop when you get back here, go right at the first killer waterfall, left at the second killer waterfall, it will take about three hours, try not to die" </div>
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Into a builders skip, painted up to look like a minibus and up the gorge for thirty minutes, then down the bank, into the water and into our kayaks and that, it appears, was all the obligations of our guides, dispatched. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje7iX0L11b2bL4ub4DN3mzoYHxCohrb3AnAa74OrZuSOGT-Dxsv0xMYD_Az4oXmRvSYuua2JADjw67sjgx0Pt1zG-ruet4jOT6gmrQCCmPIUgkzbK4lHRmhe-wBbyxmI7ojPa5PQ/s1600/Steve+and+Kippax+kayak.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje7iX0L11b2bL4ub4DN3mzoYHxCohrb3AnAa74OrZuSOGT-Dxsv0xMYD_Az4oXmRvSYuua2JADjw67sjgx0Pt1zG-ruet4jOT6gmrQCCmPIUgkzbK4lHRmhe-wBbyxmI7ojPa5PQ/s1600/Steve+and+Kippax+kayak.jpeg" height="119" width="200" /></a><br />The river was delightful, a fine mix of occasional tranquil calm, and much challenging but manageable rapids providing regular episodes of adrenalin fuelled exercise. </div>
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We made good time and 66.6%of our three-person team stayed in the traditional canoeing position of, canoe in the water, pilot not in the water. And only one of our team, (the same 1/3) managed to ram an innocent swimmer, the only vulnerable thing in a 30 metre wide expanse of river.</div>
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Regaining dry land back at Limoux we thanked the team of totally uninterested organisers and headed for the town square to enjoy, for me, the essence of a French trip, a pleasant bar, a glass or several with friends, old and new, and a wind down before an amicable and agreeable supper.</div>
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Our return leg was planned with a stopover in Versailles, a place I've long had on my "why have I never visited?" list. We were less than impressed with the eateries, there's a catering school somewhere teaching the French restaurant workforce to ignore the centuries of fine cuisine and the massive improvements in customer service now de rigeur in many civilised countries. The graduates of this college are not employed anywhere but in tourist towns, I'm sure that by now Mrs Stuffy has delivered through tripadvisor her damning opinions on the Restau 'le Bouef a la mode'. </div>
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We were up at a sensible hour for our planned tour of the palace, but alas so were about 90 bus drivers and their passengers and we arrived in front of the palace to find a queue that officially qualified as 'interminable'. We had bought our 'access all area' tickets at the hotel but we both hate queuing so pootled off to the gardens in the hope that this early rush of trippers would abate a little. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyNHiEoHGJHF2GuthD7SwnSUQv6z1fm5zINs8SZyRCSWlBtFvBdLnuH4OPSFJpDDA6AUisfBFrKSuGWVhcJo-tNRrnQ6wwCaqgR3J3poYjgEDAIwnPmm4jveuZtoJG4eQw9a5SIQ/s1600/IMG_3660.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyNHiEoHGJHF2GuthD7SwnSUQv6z1fm5zINs8SZyRCSWlBtFvBdLnuH4OPSFJpDDA6AUisfBFrKSuGWVhcJo-tNRrnQ6wwCaqgR3J3poYjgEDAIwnPmm4jveuZtoJG4eQw9a5SIQ/s1600/IMG_3660.jpg" height="200" width="170" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfG-DRAPc6qmJAuPTX29lq6Ao9PkGzywxLgJjcYMZL9ZT4-ivv50sJ-03JQOOAexxnxp7Hl8NjN5v2S2LXsYhyphenhyphenqUADGsRdqnR5xjqkQ66UpJ8j4Y-pT9Rt6eistQm0Jhq0RGEFNg/s1600/versailles+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfG-DRAPc6qmJAuPTX29lq6Ao9PkGzywxLgJjcYMZL9ZT4-ivv50sJ-03JQOOAexxnxp7Hl8NjN5v2S2LXsYhyphenhyphenqUADGsRdqnR5xjqkQ66UpJ8j4Y-pT9Rt6eistQm0Jhq0RGEFNg/s1600/versailles+1.jpg" height="200" width="122" /></a>The grounds were astonishing and we delighted in the sculptures, the gardens and the fountains, enjoying a leisurely hour or so of ambling before heading back to the courtyard to find that the queue had magically expanded even more, Disney could teach the successors of Louis Quinze a thing or two about managing a line of punters. We looked at each other, voicing the hitherto unspoken question, "can we be arsed to line up, for ever?" </div>
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"Nope"</div>
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So we donated €40 worth of tickets to a young (and very surprised) french couple queuing for tickets, thus doing our own little bit for the entente cordiale and we headed for Blighty. </div>
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All in all a high mileage but most excellent voyage of reunification, rendezvous and discovery and our thanks to family and friends, old and new who made it such fun.</div>
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Now just a month till we return to France, specifically Corsica for the Team Tuxedo Tour of Cap Corse ... Watch this space.</div>
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Stuffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15806498567164105339noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28608436.post-13487747749372596132014-07-15T15:00:00.000+01:002014-07-17T16:00:14.331+01:00Self inflicted pain, lots of itSome weeks ago I was out cycling with a few chums, I say cycling, we were sitting in a cafe enjoying, in my case, Eggs Benedict, the ideal mid-ride snack for the healthy cyclist.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6JEkllgg76VUSyi1xEvNzfD7FT7TWn497Ifuu1jTykRAHo1OQbJoKwl6wcfpj788jhCFA9GSLdpGoKe9vTuftucVYFsMRwEc5TYNDqn8sXp3n3UDZCY3voXsvzM0QhLtAr1TrFw/s1600/1795A-WMAG19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6JEkllgg76VUSyi1xEvNzfD7FT7TWn497Ifuu1jTykRAHo1OQbJoKwl6wcfpj788jhCFA9GSLdpGoKe9vTuftucVYFsMRwEc5TYNDqn8sXp3n3UDZCY3voXsvzM0QhLtAr1TrFw/s1600/1795A-WMAG19.jpg" height="320" width="212" /></a><br />
As I moved to the waffles, pancakes and maple syrup someone suggested that "we should do a sportive".<br />
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For those of you sensible enough to keep away from the phenomenon which is middle-aged-man-cycling a sportive is, not a race, but an organised cycle event, a couple of thousand folk following signed and marshalled routes, with feed stations, medical and mechanical support staff, and a T-shirt and medal if you survive.<br />
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We, (Team BreakfastBikeBuddies) normally cycle 30-40 road miles on a Saturday morning, so the prospect of cycling between 70 and 125 miles seemed like a bit of challenge but buzzing from the fine breakfast and the 'yeah let's do it' noises from the rest of the group I came home and immediately signed up to do an 85 mile ride, the Wiggle Magnificat.<br />
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A couple of interesting things happened then, pretty much everybody else seemed to have forgotten a prior appointment, organised holidays or family commitments which rendered them unable to turn out. I however, having impulsively shelled out my £30 entry fee was going to get my money's worth.<br />
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Two alone from Team BreakfastBikingBuddies stayed true, Winston, who chose to take on the 125 mile circuit and Anna who said she'd accompany me on the 85 miler.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOc8Yt4F2yrlv6N7lZCrDRuZffqnu6eXurayaK3VfTci03Nv9wZTnO4udd84IawExaWGA7VuC0UKh9qc_ZRTZWq8D5f9nDMvYopdNOtKxYWOAzW589IVzM-mxuOpQZRX44kkGipw/s1600/IMG_3549.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOc8Yt4F2yrlv6N7lZCrDRuZffqnu6eXurayaK3VfTci03Nv9wZTnO4udd84IawExaWGA7VuC0UKh9qc_ZRTZWq8D5f9nDMvYopdNOtKxYWOAzW589IVzM-mxuOpQZRX44kkGipw/s1600/IMG_3549.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a>The route started at Newbury racecourse and took a big loop through Ball Hill up Combe Hill, (couple of clues there) then down to Andover around and below Winchester and eventually back to Newbury via Kingsclere and Brimpton. As it happens I know most of those roads but driving around them gives a very different perception of the up and downs from cycling the same tracks.<br />
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At around 7:30 Anna and I set off, I'm a slow starter and it takes me 30 minutes or so to get warmed and loosened up, now, she has many fine qualities Anna but she's not blessed with patience, and it took her about a mile to suggest that I'd probably be OK if she buggered off.<br />
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I'm a wise old bird and I assured her she should sprint off and go at her own pace. She did so and it was a good three or maybe four minutes before I came upon her by the side of the road swearing like a trooper and taking off the punctured wheel she'd managed to acquire in remarkably short order.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDHFr3YkDXHajLeC7YY22JMJSFoM0zFGNV-m2FVqxSZh_GmIdxLCYGGHv6LDlOMH0bYPmWmdUOCFhM7OsqZgStO6WCo2Qpr373npcscgU-RBUJ7t1ww-Cna357lt1AkHtouwLYVQ/s1600/1795A-WMAG45.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDHFr3YkDXHajLeC7YY22JMJSFoM0zFGNV-m2FVqxSZh_GmIdxLCYGGHv6LDlOMH0bYPmWmdUOCFhM7OsqZgStO6WCo2Qpr373npcscgU-RBUJ7t1ww-Cna357lt1AkHtouwLYVQ/s1600/1795A-WMAG45.jpg" height="320" width="212" /></a><br />
Being a gentleman I sailed past giggling. I didn't really, I stopped and helped her fix the tyre, well aware that in an 6-7 hour slog, five minutes fixing a tyre was going to make minimal difference to my snail-like performance.<br />
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Onward we rode, taking it in turns to share the lead and as we warmed up and started to get comfortable we even overtook some people, obviously the instant I got to a hill and slowed to my traditional "turtle climbing a tree" pace all those people overtook me again but my descending skills (excessive weight and hysterical screaming) swung the balance back my way on the downhills and the ride, although arduous continued through some lovely countryside, up hill and down dale, (mostly up I reckon).<br />
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I've cycled further than this in France (<a href="http://blogfromthebarn.blogspot.co.uk/search?q=tuxedo+tour" target="_blank">see the Tuxedo Tour</a>) but this is the longest ride I've done without halfway beer and hourly coffee, still, despite that sacrifice I can't pretend that I didn't have fun.<br />
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We enjoyed another mechanical failure, (Anna briefly lost her chain, (and temper)) but it was a mostly enjoyable excursion and I'm sure my friends will all really wish they hadn't concocted lame excuses to avoid turning out.<br />
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Kudos to Winston on his time over a hell of a long day and very best wishes to Anna who sailed over the finish line with me and is really looking forward to doing the Ride-London 100- miler in August.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm3cYeoZxfoX9NElrCquwfbNSIodcDFo7H5EbgTlF7IXOyyC8FUYSReTNTen0Lq6j3Rmd4-3vRH1WQutX9gXrxIaexF5L0XNhfGB-2thceCdlhB4450-kHbIRoyzOU-6ABFnGHYg/s1600/IMG_3556.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;">.</a><br />
They do say that a man should know his limits, based on this 85 mile ride I reckon mine kick in at about 84 miles.<br />
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Next challenge, "Team Tuxedo do Corsica" in September, I'll keep you posted.<br />
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<br />Stuffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15806498567164105339noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28608436.post-38407088411822404562014-06-16T15:36:00.003+01:002014-06-16T15:47:26.181+01:00A fixation, a fixie, a flirtation with fashion,, a folly? <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYclcCH5qjlvpQUMFwWzHxhN_kCpL1iThScgmI_Wq4ePUc73ZA7IqTfbg8xAD-DlDysOcoq48rI3MDPHMf7aMQ5B-SNjxLaWWJdWegafFsuzs59nDV-oNWWMT4xtWiUyfoo8yyyg/s1600/IMG_3484.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYclcCH5qjlvpQUMFwWzHxhN_kCpL1iThScgmI_Wq4ePUc73ZA7IqTfbg8xAD-DlDysOcoq48rI3MDPHMf7aMQ5B-SNjxLaWWJdWegafFsuzs59nDV-oNWWMT4xtWiUyfoo8yyyg/s1600/IMG_3484.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a>I am, as many of you will know, one of those folk who seem to always need a project.<br />
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Over the last year or two I've been intermittently fixing, modifying, rustically pimping and mechanically restructuring my Series 3 Land Rover and despite my best endeavours it's now currently running smoothly and my list of things to resolve has 98% of its boxes ticked.<br />
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The joy of a Land Rover is that it won't stay fixed for long. But, O best beloveds, "a project" is a very different thing than fixing. There are always demands at the barn for my dubious repair skills, some triggered by chickens, foxes or bees. Some by garden activity, trees falling down, the occasional exercise in electrical, the inevitable plumbing challenge.<br />
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I always have a few bike maintenance jobs on hand but again that's not a project, bikes break and I fix them, that's just the circle of life.<br />
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So, a project...<br />
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For no good reason I found myself looking wistfully at an old bike I've had hanging around for a bit and deciding that what it needed was everything extraneous or superfluous stripped off, cleaned, painted and rebuilt as a single speed or fixie bike. Fixies are very much the 'now' thing in cycling in our cities, single speed, (no complex heavy gears) lightweight, minimalist bikes built to cut through heavy traffic and designed to go quickly along flat city streets rather than up and down hills with much puffing and panting. As I live miles from the city, with plenty of ups and downs not only an impractical but a downright silly idea.<br />
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I started browsing the web for inspiration and ideas and was checking out prices of various components on Ebay when I came across a listing for a single speed bike, the right sized frame but with a number of mechanical problems, mostly around buggered up (technical term) wheel, bracket and hub bearings, damaged wheels and defective brakes.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhYPKHQayhPB57fPFWD00kqJw-IJR2sa0PHqCTe3Sq7X5iW3JcKV-MgyrRJ3OZ5qZbhQjv3cvG9jsxmZ28tTIJl_D4Q-WoL4F30JTLpGqYXLlFvxAd1GhiVgGGYBratt6cv6EzzA/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-06-14+at+15.31.16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhYPKHQayhPB57fPFWD00kqJw-IJR2sa0PHqCTe3Sq7X5iW3JcKV-MgyrRJ3OZ5qZbhQjv3cvG9jsxmZ28tTIJl_D4Q-WoL4F30JTLpGqYXLlFvxAd1GhiVgGGYBratt6cv6EzzA/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-06-14+at+15.31.16.jpg" height="153" width="200" /></a></div>
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There was little bidding activity on this bike which I put down to this terrible photograph used to portray it but the text did mention that the builder was a chap called Alf Webb, a name I knew. He's a bit of a bike maintenance legend and a little research on various cycling forums identified a number of comments, criticisms and photos of similar bikes, apparently Alf specced and commissioned 250 track bikes a few years ago as "a project" and to promote his wheel building service. So, the original plan paused and I put in a very low offer in to try and win this bike.<br />
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No sooner bid than done, the bidding never really heated up and I won the auction for £60. An apologetic mumble to Mrs Stuffy that I'd 'accidentally' bought yet another bike, a quick drive to delightful Didcot and I was delighted (relieved) to finally see what I'd bought and discover that it was pretty much what I'd hoped for. Result!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3P1qdWnBrANxzcPAcbQP4v9Leod6lF5HzTduXK1PEhdVRafbxKEwYBndQGvfOP-SF9fQ3rGb3CnIf_AcypX7WEgeBBsXchyphenhyphenqs3lWIwmAIxpkdRemBkEST-oWMr79v3NSbY247KQ/s1600/IMG_3363.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3P1qdWnBrANxzcPAcbQP4v9Leod6lF5HzTduXK1PEhdVRafbxKEwYBndQGvfOP-SF9fQ3rGb3CnIf_AcypX7WEgeBBsXchyphenhyphenqs3lWIwmAIxpkdRemBkEST-oWMr79v3NSbY247KQ/s1600/IMG_3363.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjszaNACWOLmqIXFGI4NAnlqt23iqPMfdfzzyU5eXZGkcIhsmkhrqUFA59pKGlN97lntkFyAKrqqv2uPRfv4bmoKbjAN1aLk_yPJR9-W1JkTBqDCh9ZWJR7ok0KPPAJjiGLhXNNsg/s1600/IMG_3361.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjszaNACWOLmqIXFGI4NAnlqt23iqPMfdfzzyU5eXZGkcIhsmkhrqUFA59pKGlN97lntkFyAKrqqv2uPRfv4bmoKbjAN1aLk_yPJR9-W1JkTBqDCh9ZWJR7ok0KPPAJjiGLhXNNsg/s1600/IMG_3361.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjW53pknh5blDMKb8N0SCyDW3x6a4Z7gVneawE6JZDzPYWvHXWbuvXpje3g6AJVWAq9N1tv49bDjckIRage67D1Hqxa855fk8cOB4skyDRHmUtbuwzdIFopwaImaTP-jMm5FRHAw/s1600/IMG_3419.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjW53pknh5blDMKb8N0SCyDW3x6a4Z7gVneawE6JZDzPYWvHXWbuvXpje3g6AJVWAq9N1tv49bDjckIRage67D1Hqxa855fk8cOB4skyDRHmUtbuwzdIFopwaImaTP-jMm5FRHAw/s1600/IMG_3419.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8pNSENvuWOgd4-NgwJygv_7nofdDDHlN1Fs7Vugk2G6H8MD9v3imDAdfUXFoCNNZwxPGTmqq_LlyyjdZZWxF6NlwsCCTCOd2gjnseZBKPo6UNWwl1j0FgoREvgyGKlpXlgEOr5Q/s1600/IMG_3412.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8pNSENvuWOgd4-NgwJygv_7nofdDDHlN1Fs7Vugk2G6H8MD9v3imDAdfUXFoCNNZwxPGTmqq_LlyyjdZZWxF6NlwsCCTCOd2gjnseZBKPo6UNWwl1j0FgoREvgyGKlpXlgEOr5Q/s1600/IMG_3412.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTKTnm5zocDRENjKDJX8V2T60_thICsHCOy-KexLeblNBgfGtcRadTgF91p4L_cXAQfehlhW1e_xhghkwPQS9SePSc70zKGkp6GKMyP2A6PJqJq3MVXHYgf2mMxAh7Yle1cYD3yw/s1600/IMG_3414.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTKTnm5zocDRENjKDJX8V2T60_thICsHCOy-KexLeblNBgfGtcRadTgF91p4L_cXAQfehlhW1e_xhghkwPQS9SePSc70zKGkp6GKMyP2A6PJqJq3MVXHYgf2mMxAh7Yle1cYD3yw/s1600/IMG_3414.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhePIOLvICyIl9opI7GuyBfjEap_7bz_Bro_RJpZx2SLF93hHyQUkanoexncD54d0nT9f2TQpCeU5FaexweI4kgotwQMG7KtwOD2vbQYfY2PThMwYjCJTHP63GIeNRCf5QolfCqBw/s1600/IMG_3410.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhePIOLvICyIl9opI7GuyBfjEap_7bz_Bro_RJpZx2SLF93hHyQUkanoexncD54d0nT9f2TQpCeU5FaexweI4kgotwQMG7KtwOD2vbQYfY2PThMwYjCJTHP63GIeNRCf5QolfCqBw/s1600/IMG_3410.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a></div>
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I bought the bike back home and stripped everything off it. An exchange of emails and conversations with Alf and with support from the twin resources of <a href="http://www.wiggle.co.uk/cycle/" target="_blank">Wiggle</a> and the helpful gents at my Local Bike Shop, (<a href="http://www.wellingtontrek.co.uk/" target="_blank">Wellington Trek in Sunningdale</a>) I spent a couple of evenings, rebuilding the bearings and wheels.<br />
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Then it was back onto Ebay to find cheap replacements for the pedals, handlebars and brake system. It's a flip-flop hub so I can either run it with a freewheel or fixed, (fixed means using backward pressure on the pedals to make the back wheel skid and hopefully stop before impact). I've not tried it fixed yet but I shall.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRs1l4-lIv5ni6nTjGUO955b-sa1MTZ-eHPUjRCSoFrptAJDWVehypvZBkgXZKd0z8BQ_ZXdDHIGyu3j49A4_zdq6oKvDeQcu29SIgBpK5bqir0AjU6cmkOJdQVsj09KCvAAtGKQ/s1600/IMG_3407.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRs1l4-lIv5ni6nTjGUO955b-sa1MTZ-eHPUjRCSoFrptAJDWVehypvZBkgXZKd0z8BQ_ZXdDHIGyu3j49A4_zdq6oKvDeQcu29SIgBpK5bqir0AjU6cmkOJdQVsj09KCvAAtGKQ/s1600/IMG_3407.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a><br />
The frame cleaned up really well, has little damage and is a lurid dark blue/purplish/black effect, it looks a little as if it was painted by dipping it into an oil bath but I quite like the effect and decided to try and stick with a blue theme for handlebar tape, pedals and chain. <br />
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The saddle was well past it so (thanks Ebay) I sourced a replacement and I really didn't want drop or straight handlebars, the bike originally had some nice Deda drops but I'd decided I definitely wanted bullhorns.<br />
Again Ebay was my friend and I managed to find some really nice ones (Deda again) for a tenner including postage.<br />
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I've added some additional touches, some tensioners designed for BMX bikes to help keep the chain working effectively and I like the blue mountain bike pedals, this velo doesn't need clips, I'm not racing it and I do want to be able to hop on it in a pair of ordinary shoes and pop to the pub or pick up the papers without all the lycra/lubrication and gear that invariably accompanies the annual <a href="http://blogfromthebarn.blogspot.com/2013/09/tuxedotour-2013.html" target="_blank">Tuxedo Team tour </a>(this year watch out Corsica) or the weekly road or off-road exploits of the group of my chums collectively known as the Breakfast Bike Buddies (motto, "it's not about the bike, or the ride, it's all about the breakfast").<br />
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So that's the Alf Webb fixie project, pretty much done, I'm happy with the result and thought I'd share it with you, the only question now is, what's the next project?<br />
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Well I've still got that original bike hanging around, I wonder ...<br />
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<br />Stuffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15806498567164105339noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28608436.post-28520000327520015272014-04-04T15:50:00.000+01:002014-04-07T15:51:00.674+01:00Captain America, a bit of a ring doughnut, if you know what I mean, <span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: x-small;">Captain America, The Winter Soldier, it's a bit of a ring doughnut, if you know what I mean, </span><br />
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You don't? </div>
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OK let me explain, it's a veritable coruscating cornucopia of action, car chases, plane rides, jumping, crashing, car crashing, plane crashing, fighting, kicking, bashing, banging and crashing. </div>
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It's a Marvel comic book story but, (and here's the analysis during our drive home), the chap who plays Captain America (Chris Evans) is just not engaging.</div>
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I'm told he's pleasing to the eye of the ladies but he doesn't have the charisma (or the well-written amusing lines) of Robert Downey Jr as Iron Man, Chris Emsworth as Thor or even Christian Bale as Batman, they've all got charisma in bucket-loads but as the key figure he is out-acted and outshone whenever he shares the screen with Samuel L Jackson or Scarlett Johansen. </div>
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Hence the analogy, it's a well executed, thickly glazed, satisfying sugar rush, a delicious treat with a bit of a vacancy in the middle.</div>
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But still very enjoyable...</div>
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A patriotic Haiku</div>
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Predictable fun</div>
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Americas favourite son, </div>
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Delivers, well done...</div>
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Stuffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15806498567164105339noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28608436.post-74013998173491190812014-03-22T13:00:00.000+00:002014-03-24T13:49:20.117+00:00Wes does Grand Budapest, a movie, a madness, a mess? yes and well worth it...<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So the film drought has ended and we've emerged, blinking and shaking into the watery spring sunshine, we've stretched, yawned, scratched ourselves and shuffled off to the cinema.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I'm sure you're agog to hear what lured us from our movie hibernation.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Now then O best beloveds, there are movies we (Mrs Stuffy and I) view because we've read a great review, there are some movies that friends are keen to see so we go along from a sense of kinship and fellow-feeling. There are movies that one or other of us are obligated to attend simply for the sake of continuity (why else would one keep indulging the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise?) and there are a few actors and directors who rarely let us down, (there are no bad films with Ed Harris in for example) And there are films that fall into the "we haven't been to the movies in ages and that's the least bad choice" box.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8-IIQkwMYShAAveIgnZDjTDylrs01GDL2M2lmmGe-5QfwbFdDTQm1jCetAPaXUkh3Yddjof6thhD0K5hHThJDZSqgJNDB1CAGZRXhnbbF4S4zjpvgqCrC4S7Jn-2DpJYhUhRg6w/s1600/grandbudapest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8-IIQkwMYShAAveIgnZDjTDylrs01GDL2M2lmmGe-5QfwbFdDTQm1jCetAPaXUkh3Yddjof6thhD0K5hHThJDZSqgJNDB1CAGZRXhnbbF4S4zjpvgqCrC4S7Jn-2DpJYhUhRg6w/s1600/grandbudapest.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So, guess which category The Grand Budapest Hotel fell into?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Well you're wrong, we like Wes Anderson, we don't necessary understand him, but we like what he does when he's near a camera, I love the stop-motion weirdness of Fantastic Mr Fox, the seemingly un-related and irrelevant bits, I have no idea what was going on in The Darjeeling but it made me care, even if I didn't understand it. We really liked Moonrise Kingdom, the serious kids, the childlike adults, the extraordinary beauty of the filming, the stillness, the frenzy, the retro colours, costumes and scenery, the inexplicable sudden appearance of a narrator, the self-indulgence of the director and (as in all his films) the cast list of assorted stellar mainstream acting talent mixed with the young, fresh, naif, newbies.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I was going to mention that this is an odd offering but it's evident that's to be expected. This film defies pigeonholing, it's a recounting, in flashback, of the extraordinary life of a concierge in an unreal Europe, on the verge of an unreal world war, with unreal totalitarianism raising its ugly head, I'm not sure what, if any, political points are being made.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It's a tale worth telling for whatever reason. It's the visualisation I really love in his films, the way Anderson mixes live-action, broad surreal shots and panoramas with so much detail, so much happening in them, the occasional model, not trying to convince that it's real, it's patently a model but it's charming nonetheless. This movie made me smile throughout and occasionally chuckle, it demanded constant attention, many, small subtle things happen, there's no telling what is or is not significant. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The appearance of a big-name movie star may be hugely significant or a throw-away cameo. There's no telling what might be a red herring and I've come to expect no clear outcome, resolution or meaningful message. It seems to me that Wes Anderson makes very attractive, clever films to amuse and surprise and that's just what they do. Is this a self-indulgent movie? Probably but it's also an indulgent film and I really did enjoy being indulged.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Did you miss the Haikus?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Pastel retro tale</span><br />
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<br />Stuffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15806498567164105339noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28608436.post-82814460527629204512014-03-07T13:36:00.000+00:002014-03-07T13:36:19.766+00:00Opera! What's that all about? <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 13px;">I've always considered myself to be a pretty open-minded sort of fellow, unwilling to judge without evidence or experience, always happy to try and understand another's point of view, preference, perspective and passion. That's what I've always considered myself to be despite all the evidence to the contrary. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: x-small;">But I'm pretty sure I'm not a cultural philistine, I enjoy some art, I love a nice sculpture, I've dabbled with painting and music, I read voraciously, I'm a big cinema fan, but, If I'm honest, and I usually am, I've always had a bit of a downer on pretty much all things theatrical.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: x-small;"> I find actors on stage to be mostly shouty, wavy, overblown and self-indulgent which makes a theatrical evening with Mrs Stuffy, who loves a drama, an exercise in ill-concealed self-sacrifice (for me) and gritted teeth (her). But I've never seen a real live opera, not sure why, like maturity it's something that just hasn't happened for me. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKrIl_F7egYKrWKCha0UdiFncPWeHmfQKSXiXRUMECPqRVbfUDptGBrsq1gfOlEq40PlC5ADsbjcyzGSnKcEqrTbGxHEe8PQgFUy3MTNKbwJ0bYaGQxv9SZNi2fcCrzMnJFnu_NA/s1600/Julie+the+bohemian.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKrIl_F7egYKrWKCha0UdiFncPWeHmfQKSXiXRUMECPqRVbfUDptGBrsq1gfOlEq40PlC5ADsbjcyzGSnKcEqrTbGxHEe8PQgFUy3MTNKbwJ0bYaGQxv9SZNi2fcCrzMnJFnu_NA/s1600/Julie+the+bohemian.JPG" height="320" title="" width="250" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: x-small;">Until last night, (opera, not maturity).</span><br />
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Along with the lovely Sophie her ladyship and I whizzed up to the Albert Hall to experience Puccini's La Boheme, in the round. Curiously I have seen a few performance of operas on film, and Madame Butterfly (by the same dead bloke), once seen as a school trip, made, I recall, a real impression. </div>
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So I was prepared to be impressed, once more. </div>
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I'll start with the positives, the setting is great, I love the Albert Hall, the set was very clever, delivering a garret, a restaurant and a railway station, atmospherically and entertainingly. The scene in the restaurant was excellent theatre, dancing, roller-skating waiters, acrobatics, clowning and tomfoolery, great costumes, excellent choreography and some fine performances from a tremendously varied but well-cast troupe of bit players.</div>
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As an aside, surely everyone loves a roller-skating waiter? I'm not sure why they're not mandatory in all eateries.</div>
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So what's not to like? Well it sounds silly when I write it but it's the singing, technically impressive voices, both male and female but I found that the theatricality of the delivery, the sheer power of the voices, the focus on the delivery of the song failed to involve or interest me in the story, I just didn't care. </div>
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On the subject of caring, to the audience. There is a type of person who feels the need to demonstrate that either they know the opera backward or that they speak perfect Italian who telegraph each 'amusing bit' with a knowing guffaw, preemptive applause or 'better than thou' chuckle. Stop it you pretentious twits. No-one cares. </div>
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My enjoyment was also somewhat marred by the presence immediately in front of us of a chap who arrived pretty drunk and continued to get drunker throughout the evening. </div>
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Mrs Stuffy seemed surprised (and relieved) that this obnoxious gentleman made it through the performance un-smacked but I was focussed on understanding and appreciating the experience and had a hunch that I too might have enjoyed it a little more if mellowed by a glass or several. </div>
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Would I go to another opera? This wasn't an evening where one came away humming the songs, they were, to my discerning ear, instantly forgettable. Maybe I'd enjoy something lighter where I already love the music, Porgy and Bess, Carmen, Threepenny Opera but it does seem a very, very, silly way to tell a story, delivering "I'm going to the shops" dialogue in voices that could silence a stadium. </div>
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Best line overheard 'I didn't realise it was all singing!"</div>
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And incidentally, if I'm ever dying of TB get me some proper medical care, not a nice warm muff for my tiny frozen hands, bad medical guidance from Puccini there. </div>
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Adieu and thank you</div>
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Stuffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15806498567164105339noreply@blogger.com0Kensington, London, UK51.501055920263369 -0.1772403717041015651.500437920263366 -0.17850087170410156 51.501673920263372 -0.17597987170410156tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28608436.post-42753878429189083332014-01-26T17:08:00.000+00:002014-09-02T12:22:26.608+01:00A celebration of Scottishness, we Celts have to stick together<br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We've a chum called Gerry, he's the landlord of the excellent Inn@WestEnd, a delightful hostelry about one village over which serves fine food ale and wine at (he assures me) very reasonable prices.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Each year, on or around the 25th of Jan,traditional celebration evening of Scotland's premier poet, Robbie Burns, Gerry hosts a Burns night. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">They normally manage to include all the traditional elements, a piper, smoked salmon, haggis, venison and cranachan, neeps, tatties, wine, whisky, women and song, whimsical poetry dedicated to cooked offal and a little speechifying from some of the guests. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh1l5Svdt2Gir-lSTUm5OZOonkoTWdpOjoW4wu3IbQKdJVguTbYVJnHDBDb8abgkGIj5nAC8z1JNrups37S10b2l3rMFBGzIqvvYouk6qhw5Ve_dDfOsKvHTphiyq24oE3QN4Tvg/s1600/kiltbum+1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh1l5Svdt2Gir-lSTUm5OZOonkoTWdpOjoW4wu3IbQKdJVguTbYVJnHDBDb8abgkGIj5nAC8z1JNrups37S10b2l3rMFBGzIqvvYouk6qhw5Ve_dDfOsKvHTphiyq24oE3QN4Tvg/s1600/kiltbum+1.jpeg" height="200" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We, Mrs Stuffy and I, have attended for the last few years and always enjoyed the evening, (any excuse for me to break out the kilt) and this year we found ourselves booking and hosting a table for twelve. It would appear we'd made it sound very appealing to some of our chums. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">After we'd made the reservation I received a text from Gerry asking me if I'd be prepared to deliver the toast to the lassies, a teasing but appreciative paean of praise to the fairer sex. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">How could I decline? I sat down and sketched out a couple of pages and Cha, as a professional actress, coached me with delivery and "that's not funny" feedback.</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNE6RK2PoOYK4ATsF8oYbf7ivGrMIYZdjTcXQZ_yj-nW2YjnpSiHL6n-u5w1Sy_vR6Wnn5bxQTwhDRGiuuL9oBRG0W2BuSOPN-lkreGiS5ZQKnEs4Dy-zufWqHJUzmE05U5lvQrA/s1600/burnsnight1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNE6RK2PoOYK4ATsF8oYbf7ivGrMIYZdjTcXQZ_yj-nW2YjnpSiHL6n-u5w1Sy_vR6Wnn5bxQTwhDRGiuuL9oBRG0W2BuSOPN-lkreGiS5ZQKnEs4Dy-zufWqHJUzmE05U5lvQrA/s1600/burnsnight1.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Steve, Dean and Glenn, in various stages of inebriation and varying degrees of fake Scottishness.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It went well, it was a fun evening and in response to a host of requests I agreed to post the speech here, enjoy, or not, as you wish.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>To the lassies</i></span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>It was very brave of Gerry when looking for a warm-hearted Scottish chap, able and willing to speak well of womanhood, to choose instead to recruit a grumpy,semi-articulate Welsh misogynist...</i></span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>...but who am I to challenge his judgement?</i></span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>Maybe he was thinking " we need someone with lots of experience of the fairer sex" but, as my dear old mum said at my wedding " he could have had any woman he pleased, sadly he never pleased any of them".</i></span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>Maybe he was thinking of my technology background, the Scots are of course an engineering nation but that's traditionally the Scottish men, and today, according to the (Scottish) (male) Minister for technology apparently we're now entering a period of rapidly moving forward, which can only be good news for the fairer sex, who some might say have never really got the hang of reversing. </i></span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>Some might say that, not me, obviously. </i></span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>Indeed when we're talking of exemplary women, many folk apparently see Margaret Thatcher’s " the lady is not for turning" speech as less of a statement of political intent, more a lament for a lack of parking skills.</i></span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>Oh yes, it's all too easy when talking of the ladies to take the easy route and criticise women drivers, but that's not for me …</i></span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>...because I'm pretty sure there's many a lady here who has, this evening, mysteriously found herself in sudden possession of the car keys as Gerry's notorious generosity with the wine bottle starts to kick in.</i></span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>Here's today's made up fact, The kilt, as we see it so beautifully modelled here was an invention of a Manchester cotton mill owner, intended to use up surplus cloth. </i></span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>But for all that, there's no doubt that the Scottish male has adopted the kilt, they're a proud nation, but I can't help thinking it's an unconscious admission that it's very rarely the man of the house that truly wears the trousers. </i></span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>In the last few decades our society has evolved enormously in terms of equality for the working woman but we still hear, all too often, of the barriers to their advancement, we hear of “the glass ceiling:, seen by many woman as an insurmountable obstacle to career advancement but, to be honest, a glass ceiling is equally threatening to a man in a kilt. </i></span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>Particularly to those of us who practice the "true Scotsman" approach to underwear.</i></span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>I mentioned the lack of woman engineers but women, of course, have invented many things, the concept of re-washing up, the curious ritual of re-getting dressed to go out, and of course they excel in the realms of philosophy. </i></span><br />
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>Many male philosophers have spent years trying to comprehend the level of abstract thought required to come up with " I shouldn't have to tell you what's wrong, if you loved me you would know what I imagine you meant when I invented the conversation you didn't have with someone I don't like" </i></span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>or indeed, the awesome simplicity and genius innate in the philosophical concept of the totally unanswerable question, </i></span><br />
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>" does this dress make me look fat?" </i></span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>But it's their ability to accommodate our tiny little flaws, that offers the true picture of womanhood, and in the real world we should not classify the ladies by reference to so-called female role models whether they be Margaret, Miley or the blessed Nigella. </i></span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>We should look around this room, at the wives and the girlfriends, (may they never meet) the mothers, the sisters, the grans, the daughters, it's the lassies that complete us, that torment us, that make, and break, our hearts.</i></span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>For, as Rabbie Burns said</i></span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>But to see her was to love her; </i></span><br />
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>Love but her, and love for ever. </i></span><br />
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>Had we never lov'd sae kindly, </i></span><br />
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>Had we never lov'd sae blindly, </i></span><br />
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>Never met-or never parted, </i></span><br />
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>We had ne'er been broken-hearted.</i></span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>Gentlemen, to the lassies.</i></span><br />
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<span style="color: #073763; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>.</i></span>Stuffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15806498567164105339noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28608436.post-3338374695939238272013-12-18T14:35:00.000+00:002013-12-28T14:50:50.986+00:00Anniversary indulgence, The Hand and Flowers <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC-iMuxKdNqYRkQOHWOmJ32nut4P4igwKpU-N3CvSLTfLgRt5QmfLCad40L3-0VYGJfshAv-sLrleKGtNbQLNUlK2AuwoNM6rEvEwogZwEulULOkBrbbRZzKKwhXr6F4VD8g2K4g/s1600/029.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC-iMuxKdNqYRkQOHWOmJ32nut4P4igwKpU-N3CvSLTfLgRt5QmfLCad40L3-0VYGJfshAv-sLrleKGtNbQLNUlK2AuwoNM6rEvEwogZwEulULOkBrbbRZzKKwhXr6F4VD8g2K4g/s200/029.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Mrs Stuffy and I are irregular followers of the Professional Masterchef series as you'll know from my <a href="http://blogfromthebarn.blogspot.co.uk/2013/11/ill-make-you-roux-day-that.html" target="_blank">Michel Roux Jr post</a> and we also enjoy the Great British Menu (<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>particularly this year as one of the runners-up was <a href="http://www.carltonriverside.com/" target="_blank">Mary-Ann Gilchrist from Llanwrtyd Wells</a>, someone whose cooking I think easily merits the 300 mile round trip</i></span>).</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But I digress, Mrs Stuffy (<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>like many ladies in this part of the world apparently</i></span>) has become a bit of a fan of Tom Kerridge, chef at the Hand and Flowers in Marlow, a larger than life figure who is pretty much ubiquitous in both those</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> cookery programmes and indeed most culinary broadcasting on the tellybox at the moment. As is ever the case with her ladyship, no sooner the thought than the action and she promptly leapt to the phones and secured a 9:00 pm dinner reservation on our 13th wedding anniversary at his 2** Michelin starred pub in Marlow, some forty minutes up the road from us.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Nine of an evening is late dining for us but getting this reservation was no small achievement and required military grade anticipation and planning, they're booked solid on Fridays and Saturdays till November 2014 and weeknights aren't much better. With tastebuds a tingling we set off on a wild and wet and windy weeknight to celebrate 13 years of wedded bliss. (<span style="font-size: xx-small;">total lack of sarcasm there by the way</span>).</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTgcKdLUaG82sDEFiV1icIkYchx-iWtfmtO89udZ3_GTyCx6trHPvlIPIc5npSmoUUxmLQ6mVAEFGkiqiiQnkxMGXAqGQq9vbH_LqyUtc-aO1epK3LtHrCbRs6ojOLL_1XE_kKGA/s1600/003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTgcKdLUaG82sDEFiV1icIkYchx-iWtfmtO89udZ3_GTyCx6trHPvlIPIc5npSmoUUxmLQ6mVAEFGkiqiiQnkxMGXAqGQq9vbH_LqyUtc-aO1epK3LtHrCbRs6ojOLL_1XE_kKGA/s200/003.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It's billed as Britain's only Michelin starred pub and I'm not sure where the line is between restaurant, pub and gastropub, they also have some bedrooms apparently so go-figure as our American chums say, however whatever it is it's a welcoming establishment, the staff were young, from many corners of the world and competent,calm and cheerful, one suspects that Tom, if you do a good job, is probably a nice guy to work for. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Despite his claims that it's simple food it isn't really, it's very high quality dining served in a relaxed setting, this is not just well-executed pub grub. You can see the <a href="http://www.thehandandflowers.co.uk/index.php" target="_blank">menu here</a>, so I won't go into detail but I'm happy to admit that I was blown away by the flavours in my starter, a clever alternative scotch egg, using salt cod as the meat wrapping and a perfectly cooked bantam egg at it's core. My main course of pork was sublime but it's the dessert we've been boring people to death with for the past fortnight. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiajPyEMx6h_NwJ3oxV9FqOdzr-1OVVAQjtyuDuOVsDgeT8PkEx-f6etGxI3Z6CRvwjZyaATInf5I77wBogBgaMfUk6ynHmAgOzbFwLmOAr86qDEE_nt3rFVQQuPURaZJ1kxBc91A/s1600/hf-food-2012-02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiajPyEMx6h_NwJ3oxV9FqOdzr-1OVVAQjtyuDuOVsDgeT8PkEx-f6etGxI3Z6CRvwjZyaATInf5I77wBogBgaMfUk6ynHmAgOzbFwLmOAr86qDEE_nt3rFVQQuPURaZJ1kxBc91A/s200/hf-food-2012-02.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I was replete and not drinking so demurred when asked to plump for a sweet but her ladyship bullied me into sharing a Chocolate and Ale cake with a muscovado and salted caramel ice cream. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The cake, tried on its own, was just a little too bitter, the ice cream, on its own, too salt. Together, they blended into distinct but complimentary melt-in-the-mouth deliciousness, beautifully presented, exceedingly clever, a sign of a great palate and perfectly executed</span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Many top restaurants deliver flawless food, but perfect delivery can all too often be less than exciting, this meal was a series of small delights. </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It wasn't a cheap supper </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">but well worth it</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">, I'm glad we saved up for 13 years for it.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> Her ladyship chatted to the man himself in the bar afterwards, service having ended and told him how much better than Le Gavroche it was, good timing since he and Michel Roux Jr were on the radio together next morning, I hope Tom was polite enough to keep Mrs Stuffy's observations between the two of them.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSGvkXxKGskJsCYr8KQds5AMzVWa-yPSZeBWNmJKtx3M3QPh11xxyQ2PbzRKf-4R7fQqbcxLUvtF_VQVmb4fIUkn3vr2e9T2oMmiBLp41MNIcjof5AE7arnry6bw1mlCkny9ka1Q/s1600/Screen+Shot+2013-12-28+at+14.27.38.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSGvkXxKGskJsCYr8KQds5AMzVWa-yPSZeBWNmJKtx3M3QPh11xxyQ2PbzRKf-4R7fQqbcxLUvtF_VQVmb4fIUkn3vr2e9T2oMmiBLp41MNIcjof5AE7arnry6bw1mlCkny9ka1Q/s320/Screen+Shot+2013-12-28+at+14.27.38.jpg" width="241" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But, you know, I reckon she was right...</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">If you can, go there.... enjoy</span><br />
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<br />Stuffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15806498567164105339noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28608436.post-59065550515245261922013-11-15T13:31:00.000+00:002013-11-15T13:31:40.680+00:00I'll make you Roux the day that ...<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Every year for birthdays, Christmas, anniversaries my lady wife and I go through a complex and often confusing (to outsiders) process. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Mrs Stuffy buys me something that I would love to have but could never justify buying for myself whilst I buy her something that she hides in a wardrobe until she thinks I've forgotten about it (I never, ever, do).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">As a result we now try and identify things like breaks, holidays, trips, weekends away, transient experiences that show we care but don't hang around if we get it wrong. Our recent Maldivian excursion was my attempt to please my birthday girl.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfGv3iSxbUWahPf0GWSDZPRkLLdqW2iZ3Q53nL23G1aXpbCUMfzNTQrj_Xz-oCPyVkBZ91iztjNI-ohNzN_0eY6eWT2IQswPO6n_tzVXeidqSavwjC12XkZyuxWSLlUwguiLTNlw/s1600/IMG_2821.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfGv3iSxbUWahPf0GWSDZPRkLLdqW2iZ3Q53nL23G1aXpbCUMfzNTQrj_Xz-oCPyVkBZ91iztjNI-ohNzN_0eY6eWT2IQswPO6n_tzVXeidqSavwjC12XkZyuxWSLlUwguiLTNlw/s320/IMG_2821.jpg" width="240" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Last April, as yet another birthday dawned to the sound of church bells and urchins taunting me in the street, I discovered that I was enrolled in a cookery school session with that chap off Masterchef, not the plump, pugnacious one, the skinny, skillful one, Michel Roux Jr. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I was delighted, I love to cook, I love to learn, he's obviously no slouch in the kitchen and he comes across well on his many TV appearances.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">His signature restaurant is Le Gavroche, still one of the top UK restaurants, in that there, shabby London ghetto of Mayfair* and I'd not eaten there for some 20 years so it was fortuitous timing that chums Scot and Rosie shared a sumptuous (and very reasonably priced**) supper with us there a couple of weeks ago. I'd sort of hoped that Monsieur Le Chef would be there but it seems that "going to the rugby" justifies a night off from the pass. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpRa5IQ9gTTXnLoMGIOxG1zswrTkf5AdRm0uYGjDdr0-CB4uVaTJZN2WPkhT-qujbdUzkS4dRJNOPxvENAUwIJl4mgHw1jRWrC-fb3j3T3VJr01jSMmtizgVr5VVXSonhZK8U0HA/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpRa5IQ9gTTXnLoMGIOxG1zswrTkf5AdRm0uYGjDdr0-CB4uVaTJZN2WPkhT-qujbdUzkS4dRJNOPxvENAUwIJl4mgHw1jRWrC-fb3j3T3VJr01jSMmtizgVr5VVXSonhZK8U0HA/s200/photo.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So to my birthday present, an intimate day cooking fine food with certainly </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">one of the most respected (and to be honest, intimidating) chefs in the UK. The venue is the top floor cookery school at Cactus Kitchens in Clapham, it's part of a complex that also houses the studios for a number of cookery programmes including Saturday Kitchen, not a show I often see but I think I look at home on the set.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXe1eq2MsfQ88B-B2sexriEX-mGpMss87R1EUnx5N5ZVtghyphenhyphenJcVKUBm1R9R25XAo4Y8Y0oyKfoZhFFzL0J-vNaPTPWpZ1TSNqxcBXGYbzRI9VmvnAbiVMOMzKczCOgjq5vK70d1g/s1600/photo+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXe1eq2MsfQ88B-B2sexriEX-mGpMss87R1EUnx5N5ZVtghyphenhyphenJcVKUBm1R9R25XAo4Y8Y0oyKfoZhFFzL0J-vNaPTPWpZ1TSNqxcBXGYbzRI9VmvnAbiVMOMzKczCOgjq5vK70d1g/s200/photo+5.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I joined the other students, (I think 'mature students' is appropriate), inevitably a mixed bag of mostly middle-aged keen foodies, chatty, knowledgeable and seemingly passionate about food, in some cases blessed, as I am, with a partner who will pay handsomely to get them out of the house for a day.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaskESnJ2ajcQVps31pYW7qZXs57tWxYyMbo23OZWd0VIZdbtwN4I3ZFzuey3gyjaqv5Xg8ldrdbyfR_IhlcCsWWxMxzzooXAqBFvCxqR0__T6F2-a0iByEwkIAg5ZN_ldUm-7tQ/s1600/IMG_2816.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We coffee'd, we danish'd, we broke the conversational ice, we laughed nervously, we were mollycoddled by the lovely ladies who run the place and then we trooped upstairs into the eaves to meet the man.</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlA93T5Nq2a7YGA1jaCUMzCkX18MfrSw9vom8D8fcDNTNdBbd3CcfW5JM3f0KwOlITmUUCv4zMEexNB6PI1fxJQbeRx5YxWQAzq4b5nzdYt8Z9P46lFyC_TfG-TQSM070pqllqtg/s1600/photo+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlA93T5Nq2a7YGA1jaCUMzCkX18MfrSw9vom8D8fcDNTNdBbd3CcfW5JM3f0KwOlITmUUCv4zMEexNB6PI1fxJQbeRx5YxWQAzq4b5nzdYt8Z9P46lFyC_TfG-TQSM070pqllqtg/s200/photo+1.JPG" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeehE3DVpKmWvse5p97maGc4HCI-Z-wi1UjlTrvCxjWTSpnt4QxsGulk_-RgJZpN9z4FBat5lr95px-d4v4_TebKij2c0tuPRLrNcpVTZBMcONgPeaZAdvoxYUVJTl8-vQV1Jw7Q/s1600/photo+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeehE3DVpKmWvse5p97maGc4HCI-Z-wi1UjlTrvCxjWTSpnt4QxsGulk_-RgJZpN9z4FBat5lr95px-d4v4_TebKij2c0tuPRLrNcpVTZBMcONgPeaZAdvoxYUVJTl8-vQV1Jw7Q/s200/photo+2.JPG" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I've done a cookery school at Raymond Blancs gaff, Le manoir aux quat' saison which was enjoyable but made notable by an absolute lack of Raymond. This was very different.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We gathered around Michel and he effortlessly kicked off the day, the format was fun, he'd demo some techniques all the while chatting about chef stuff, TV stuff, food stuff, personal stuff, encouraging questions, interaction and creating an easy informality. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaskESnJ2ajcQVps31pYW7qZXs57tWxYyMbo23OZWd0VIZdbtwN4I3ZFzuey3gyjaqv5Xg8ldrdbyfR_IhlcCsWWxMxzzooXAqBFvCxqR0__T6F2-a0iByEwkIAg5ZN_ldUm-7tQ/s1600/IMG_2816.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaskESnJ2ajcQVps31pYW7qZXs57tWxYyMbo23OZWd0VIZdbtwN4I3ZFzuey3gyjaqv5Xg8ldrdbyfR_IhlcCsWWxMxzzooXAqBFvCxqR0__T6F2-a0iByEwkIAg5ZN_ldUm-7tQ/s200/IMG_2816.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We then scurried off to our well-appointed stations to try and replicate what he'd shown us. As we exercised our respective culinary skills Michel circulated enthusiastically and guided, pointed ou</span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">t, complimented, enthused and in the case of my beurre blanc, rescued.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN_XRE5XlMtOzf1buoOaTp9a3IatDnaieQM1UaWWmRZIAzqFglrKC-msH5jZaOXV_jmH7QJlMuB5M10_rNw-Qa8W0bCvHqWB1olOsh1zkU_4HwwiUeALL7I-ITlfcQ3mDq9IoGQQ/s1600/photo+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN_XRE5XlMtOzf1buoOaTp9a3IatDnaieQM1UaWWmRZIAzqFglrKC-msH5jZaOXV_jmH7QJlMuB5M10_rNw-Qa8W0bCvHqWB1olOsh1zkU_4HwwiUeALL7I-ITlfcQ3mDq9IoGQQ/s200/photo+4.jpg" width="149" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We made fougasse, it's an easy bread but great fun, we cooked artichokes, a new experience for me, creating an artichoke cocotte filled with baked egg, ham, cream and chorizo. It was an interesting dish and obviously chosen to enable the demonstration (and subsequent exercise) of many skills, knife work, stove and oven use, palate, timing, concentration and a little instinct. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It's a dish I'm now very happy with and will be delighted to inflict on family and chums here at the Barn. </span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4TLs9xgHdpBhBaymLng2iL4guHQDFbtLZ1j4Tl3cgzOyhjBuXEKO8JjTPpNwlj0J3pt99Nw3DItwJ8iH4VMnmMILfPPiPCUK4Zx2YwRsDHC9O4LsAXL2TOJ9osu5R80D0lJsPwQ/s1600/IMG_2822.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4TLs9xgHdpBhBaymLng2iL4guHQDFbtLZ1j4Tl3cgzOyhjBuXEKO8JjTPpNwlj0J3pt99Nw3DItwJ8iH4VMnmMILfPPiPCUK4Zx2YwRsDHC9O4LsAXL2TOJ9osu5R80D0lJsPwQ/s200/IMG_2822.jpg" width="150" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We also prepped and cooked some exceedingly fresh scallops, poached in a leek stock and served with leeks julienne on smoked salmon. Again, out of my comfort zone, I'm not a shellfish fan but I was delighted with the results, the techniques and information imparted and will be more than happy to deliver this dish to whomsoever is here next for supper. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg62tl_lyGSZCqBbP1dB8QdVBpAEmyP7R2XsgPFdHn_OTccv3tOiOOyXTHXIbIRjWIOFGKW2xB4NNHv3jPzzNJk79VayOeNa4h3HWKXjI0_Rd1LqgquP-G9aPyoIpDL2qHmiVK9zg/s1600/IMG_2824.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg62tl_lyGSZCqBbP1dB8QdVBpAEmyP7R2XsgPFdHn_OTccv3tOiOOyXTHXIbIRjWIOFGKW2xB4NNHv3jPzzNJk79VayOeNa4h3HWKXjI0_Rd1LqgquP-G9aPyoIpDL2qHmiVK9zg/s200/IMG_2824.jpg" width="184" /></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">All the clients seemed to be at least competent in the kitchen, apparently that's not always the case, they do have folk show up with no kitchen skills but I can't help thinking that would be a waste of some great instruction and insight.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Overall I find it hard to fault the day, the venue, the organisation or the host. As those who know me will probably attest I'm not prone to praise but he seemed to be a genuinely nice bloke and I'm now moved to break all my rules and congratulate my better half on a great gift and a great day. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">With Christmas on the horizon, no pressure there then***.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">*sarcasm</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">**more sarcasm</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">***panic</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">NB Click on the Cactus kitchens logo for a link to their website.</span><br />
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<a href="http://www.cactuskitchens.co.uk/cooking-experiences-london/michel-roux-experience" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp1HiSFeN4ZERDe_W-d0c4nBv76hopEWkMEiGf8gQM6yGU9icUCRb8ByqOYi8ONjNacN2h4-KQ_n9AU5Y1TsrNoC7Rw8oxags36Ijt6kGIZ5O4rZvPaiA8EsCiKCW-4cl1sTtzlQ/s1600/Screen+Shot+2013-11-15+at+13.11.34.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />Stuffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15806498567164105339noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28608436.post-72775386629187812852013-10-26T22:28:00.000+01:002013-10-27T17:41:20.108+00:00An early autumnal treat, let's get tropical<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Holiday challenge, it's unusual for me to be happy returning to places. There are many obstacles, in some cases restraining orders and in others, angry hoteliers with long memories.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">If I've really enjoyed somewhere I irrationally fear that it will be disappointing on a second visit, and, if I've not enjoyed myself, well, why would I return?</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6crEzYIf5sy3uuoxvYSnJexyXIpVrCtplzpH0_bkvQ9LQtqj6kB9p8zfEn2Llir6kU_oUImwyWWDf1mN3kmf9Enc5PMDr2dCqqZ1L9Hju6pvEBnhUFheXn-ssAyW87i8AIYxj1g/s1600/Chaaya-Lagoon-Hakuraa-Huraa-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="142" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6crEzYIf5sy3uuoxvYSnJexyXIpVrCtplzpH0_bkvQ9LQtqj6kB9p8zfEn2Llir6kU_oUImwyWWDf1mN3kmf9Enc5PMDr2dCqqZ1L9Hju6pvEBnhUFheXn-ssAyW87i8AIYxj1g/s320/Chaaya-Lagoon-Hakuraa-Huraa-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">It's different for Mrs Stuffy, annually she and her chums swan off on a girls trip to the Greek islands, recently returning thrice to the same hotel in Mykononos, and that's fine for her but would make me most uncomfortable. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0rTI4DJZ3r0swBQLwftxGmzjt30BVnN3eBEZuogY4iP2NxKdnbUQXBZ_7kO_CDoHgo30n1cn_kHbSJXzPBsT1wlans1rx6zpqu7nO5iqb857lLhOOHOI-IHnaXjhjTENH1iqYOw/s1600/IMG_2576.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0rTI4DJZ3r0swBQLwftxGmzjt30BVnN3eBEZuogY4iP2NxKdnbUQXBZ_7kO_CDoHgo30n1cn_kHbSJXzPBsT1wlans1rx6zpqu7nO5iqb857lLhOOHOI-IHnaXjhjTENH1iqYOw/s200/IMG_2576.jpg" width="150" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">We do however agree that the multitude of choices of island in the Maldives works for both of us. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">We both love the casual shoe-less sandy laid-back ambiance of most resorts, the staff are invariably great and enough of the guests well mannered and pleasant to be tolerable to the ageing misanthropes among us (me). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">She gets to lie on a beach or a veranda and Kindle away the days with occasional breaks for fine food, snorkel and swims. I tend to jump on a boat and get underwater for extended periods of time and I've found nowhere in the world that I prefer to dive. </span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKNYqlNCteFte_mJVGVT30rt1vhZ5IkJBvN5Isq3GQUYc4l7mOnmmQsSQZmp2pkIEXarNZf7tPLQaKXvvpSbrTvAwFk_Isy0G9hzsm3jgJcbl37gpDL1hhAosTLxBh1VgarLgvlQ/s1600/IMG_2672.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKNYqlNCteFte_mJVGVT30rt1vhZ5IkJBvN5Isq3GQUYc4l7mOnmmQsSQZmp2pkIEXarNZf7tPLQaKXvvpSbrTvAwFk_Isy0G9hzsm3jgJcbl37gpDL1hhAosTLxBh1VgarLgvlQ/s200/IMG_2672.jpg" width="150" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">The 'not going back syndrome' means that we've been, in the past to Kuramathi and Komandoo, but this time we decided to throw caution to the winds and visit an island that does not start with the letter K. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">We flew off to Hakura Huraa in the Meemu atoll, a 10 hour BA flight and a 45 minute seaplane hop. Again, opinion is divided on the matter of seaplanes, He "isn't this fun?" Her "no".</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">The island, as one would expect, is very lovely although the weather was changeable and occasionally very damp as the rainy season started to flex its muscles. We had booked a water villa, a very pleasant setup on stilts over the lagoon with a private deck and steps into the sea, a glass floor and all mod cons. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">We've always been on land before and her ladyship found the constant susurration relaxing whilst I, inevitably, found it difficult to sleep as the tides and waves played a never ending symphony of imminent maritime disaster. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkm2k1KtRXAEN8bcgYFHu6gpd5jLfn960CZeWvJqBekCo6D8FQlbqJr7_AKGDHzrsRJfZVI5dH7byofQwI_Jts6X5cSe81mFnCWoYZJTyjTyqcYGGKX31vUGfYZ3AlJ9IlP-mi_Q/s1600/IMG_2641.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><img border="0" height="165" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkm2k1KtRXAEN8bcgYFHu6gpd5jLfn960CZeWvJqBekCo6D8FQlbqJr7_AKGDHzrsRJfZVI5dH7byofQwI_Jts6X5cSe81mFnCWoYZJTyjTyqcYGGKX31vUGfYZ3AlJ9IlP-mi_Q/s200/IMG_2641.jpg" width="200" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br />The food was fine, the wine quaffable, we ordered a bottle of nice wine one evening and found it about as average as the all-inclusive plonk served nightly, It's the overall relaxing pace of these places that make the islands a delightful place to spend a few days, relaxing evenings with cocktails in the bar, critiquing the singers and the clothing choices of our fellow travellers. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvVsOKiaz8fniCLV0qxfMkk5ayigWwacdAd0hJXLh-v3avE48-bPd9yKgM9ITtoR7hi-N5tw5DyzGQeTcG8dXLRH1ggB1sYH-7HkKADjbvLF7uwio_ckTkfDFUWS0aoOxacU9RsA/s1600/IMG_2650.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><img border="0" height="171" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvVsOKiaz8fniCLV0qxfMkk5ayigWwacdAd0hJXLh-v3avE48-bPd9yKgM9ITtoR7hi-N5tw5DyzGQeTcG8dXLRH1ggB1sYH-7HkKADjbvLF7uwio_ckTkfDFUWS0aoOxacU9RsA/s200/IMG_2650.jpg" width="200" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br />I should mention the swim/snorkel/dive situation.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> The lagoon here was bigger than we've experienced elsewhere (maybe it's a K island thing) but it did mean a long swim to the house reef and against a strong current which meant her ladyship didn't enjoy the quality of snorkelling she was used to. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">On the up-side, for me the diving was excellent. I've always enjoyed every dive centre I've used in the Maldives (unlike occasional disappointments in the Caribbean, and that prat in Mallorca, deep breath, move on). The Dive team in Hakura were great and a joy to dive with. Interestingly some 60% of the 170 or so guests were young Chinese who apparently are not greatly enamoured of swimming although they are hugely in favour of taking millions of photos of each other every thirty seconds. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSK_hBlSN-0_8LL3zjObg4qb5t9SbVZmaCITjP37ydxLEXCN1br8tD1j7wDlY6CNe2-bBb7ChjO5DC3hYgN18oSz3n1YwWGRUu9mC4BD4c37bk9NM_Ykt-OmiXIB7Pj-txrGb3bA/s1600/IMG_2574.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSK_hBlSN-0_8LL3zjObg4qb5t9SbVZmaCITjP37ydxLEXCN1br8tD1j7wDlY6CNe2-bBb7ChjO5DC3hYgN18oSz3n1YwWGRUu9mC4BD4c37bk9NM_Ykt-OmiXIB7Pj-txrGb3bA/s200/IMG_2574.jpg" width="150" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">This meant that on many occasions the dive boat with its crew of three was at the disposal of myself, the dive master/instructor and at most two other divers. An excellent and rare ratio and made some stunning diving both more relaxed for all of us and a very personalised experience for me as for three of my six days I was the sole client, spoilt rotten.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">The biggie for me was to finally break my Manta ray virginity, it's long been a wish and was finally achieved. I won't write too much as I'm linking to a film produced for me by the very lovely Sylvia from Maldives Dive and Sail. I'd also like to offer a huge thank you to Basti, Bjorn and Achmed and if you're looking for a holiday with some world class divers they are, without a doubt, the biz.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> Click on the photo of the porky chap in a wetsuit to see the brief movie... </span><br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YdTQ8uJEzx8" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><img border="0" height="274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc-oiF6R4zoPK7B0kKRIhFPujoXxLdGLUhZryAmR-V16jKa4JVENOwidzIc1ZgPTjyDkzaVDRBRFbzFJUQcmsbcKzec_6OjymFBJ4t6z3Cp_9PktE56sF8qDm-kJMh00BkscnHOg/s320/Screen+Shot+2013-10-27+at+16.18.48.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I would have some photos of my own but, for the second time my "waterproof dive camera housing" failed to live up to the first word in it's name and this enabled me to bring back to shore a camera sized sample of Indian Ocean water and $300 dollars worth of camera-shaped scrap metal.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Would we go back to Hakura Huraa? No, of course not, read the intro. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Would we go back to the Maldives, yes, of course, like a shot.</span><br />
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<br />Stuffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15806498567164105339noreply@blogger.com0Maldives1.9772469 73.536103499999967-6.1130146000000005 63.208954999999968 10.067508400000001 83.86325199999996tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28608436.post-92104636527475921192013-09-30T19:51:00.000+01:002013-10-01T13:22:03.163+01:00Sunday Bloody Sunday Sunday, ah Sunday, a restful day, a late alarm, a cup of tea, a gradual emerging from the snug cocoon of well-deserved rest, an amble to the paper shop, a leisurely and indulgent breakfast, a late lunch with family and friends, a glass or bottle or two, a recuperative, restorative, indulgent day.<br />
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So why was I up at 6:00 making up water bottles of electrolytes and energy, cramming croissant and banana into my mouth, squeezing my protesting body into snug lycra and meeting up with 70 or so whippet-thin cycling obsessives to ride 50 miles up hill and down dale across Southern England and 35 miles back.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVc-__s6tMauQC3pMXMPokMnq1OSB73ePHPLPaffoZZMthAKOZOxErIidPs8Zh1vgTuekCHQB7P_6Sm7j47cr1o455Ap3Eta3u9o78dMz0Fx9U7FDG3PBOGtoNfGRBXJsMvMNnsw/s1600/IMG_2501.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVc-__s6tMauQC3pMXMPokMnq1OSB73ePHPLPaffoZZMthAKOZOxErIidPs8Zh1vgTuekCHQB7P_6Sm7j47cr1o455Ap3Eta3u9o78dMz0Fx9U7FDG3PBOGtoNfGRBXJsMvMNnsw/s200/IMG_2501.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
There's a fine charity run by some lovely people, the 'Children with Special Needs Foundation'. Our chums, Gordon and Ann run it and they'd put an event together with the local Foxhills golf club near us to run an organised fund-raising 'sportive' (bike ride).<br />
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We'd assembled an equipe of nine bicycling friends and myself. I sorted out some team kit, branded long-sleeve jerseys (it is September) and we huddled at Foxhills at unearthly o'clock for coffee, danish and nervous laughter.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXE7LgyF0Iiko5yd8TZyPfQgdq6jvK1WlzZUtP3R93GjPfauA8hwZJtLKLhSdz72Q1zLTlKvfTo2ypiUIHfH6zcyKCg65WtS8bRQX7LL4RqKF8RoLY2lelJ4K9-f-u0aaPQ1LnWg/s1600/IMG_2513.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXE7LgyF0Iiko5yd8TZyPfQgdq6jvK1WlzZUtP3R93GjPfauA8hwZJtLKLhSdz72Q1zLTlKvfTo2ypiUIHfH6zcyKCg65WtS8bRQX7LL4RqKF8RoLY2lelJ4K9-f-u0aaPQ1LnWg/s320/IMG_2513.jpg" width="240" /></a>Our team, as you can see, was a good looking group and all in fine fettle as we set off with our ride guide 'John, a man who obviously has cycling coursing through his veins, (veins very evident on a man carrying nothing that remotely resembled body fat).<br />
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We set off well and passed a couple of the earlier groups, all was going well for the first ten miles until your humble correspondent, (who traditionally only shines on fast downhill stretches for some reason) had a bit of a 'coming together' with another of our team. He was mercifully unscathed, I however managed to buckle my front wheel, bend my chainring and pulverise my lower back. Our guide, John, was phlegmatic and parried all my attempts to get a ride back in the van, by summoning a spare bike and ensuring that all my many and varied excuses came to naught.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil2R5AfPuqZaNP125lytrW5dtTi4kDp3neE65Q65A59MDI5nyS5HDPwJqm3b9AFR-KSK3kCof1gJ4BIXyws2_JnQLHto9zPb0P2Tuyq34RxeEQkkZy2QPlkIcHuNMyg8xeX881Ng/s1600/IMG_2515.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil2R5AfPuqZaNP125lytrW5dtTi4kDp3neE65Q65A59MDI5nyS5HDPwJqm3b9AFR-KSK3kCof1gJ4BIXyws2_JnQLHto9zPb0P2Tuyq34RxeEQkkZy2QPlkIcHuNMyg8xeX881Ng/s320/IMG_2515.jpg" width="240" /></a>The remainder of the fifty miles to Farleigh, near Croydon passed pleasantly and with much challenge but I can't deny that I arrived at the lunch stop with a spring in my step, a spark in my eye, a quip on my lips and sadly, a twisted wrenching muscular mess of excruciating pain across my lower back.<br />
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Along with the other, "that's quite enough for me" retirees I made my way back on the team bus while most of our team survivors set off on the 35 mile return leg. Luckily by the time they arrived back I'd done a serious quality investigation of the complimentary prosecco and was poised to attack the excellent hog-roast.<br />
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Special mentions for my colleagues in the team should go to Dean, who was 2nd over the finish line, bro-in-law Graham who rode his mountain bike the whole way and now "never wants to see that bike again, ever". Chef Winston had an 'orrible fall at 50 miles, minutes from lunch, lacerated a leg (his own) but manfully bled the 35 miles home. Steve C and Dave B who kindly called it quits and came back on the bus to stop me feeling lonely, Anna, (Mrs Shouty) rode an excellent ride and Richard and Glen, (the other XLshirts) who were a delight to ride with, kept me motivated and only ever slagged me off when they thought I was out of earshot.<br />
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All in all a fun day for a worthy cause <br />
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and as I lie here, wracked with pain, supine and suffering, I'm really looking forward to next time, if I can get my bike fixed, and get a bit fitter, and find anyone willing to ride with me, etc. etc. etc.<br />
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<br />Stuffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15806498567164105339noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28608436.post-74580351326953470552013-09-26T15:22:00.000+01:002013-10-01T12:30:27.142+01:00Scream Lauda if you want to go faster<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I tend to choose movies that have an element of escapism about them, the unreal, the surreal, the hyper-real. I have chums who get annoyed when something takes place in a film that wouldn't work in the real world. Myself, I'm the opposite, I can (often reluctantly, grudgingly and with poorly disguised ill-humour, sit through a rom-com, an historical drama, a heartwarming tale of everyday folk but secretly I'm yearning for the aliens to arrive, for the housewife to be unmasked as an ace assassin with awesome ninja skills.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Let's go and see 'Rush', that film about James Hunt" she exclaimed, my lovely wife. "Yes let's do that" I replied, feigning enthusiasm whilst inwardly ticking off the pointless counter arguments. I know the story, I lived then, I know what happens, Formula 1 is formulaic, the 70s were tedious, etc. etc.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">No matter, we hooked up with some chums for a pre-movie supper and "away my beauties, hie thee to the multiplex".</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You'll not hear this often but "I was wrong". Ron Howard has produced a thoughtful, engrossing and entertaining film. It flows well, the storyline, although we already know it, is delivered with precision and pace, the period detail is extraordinarily well captured. The actors are all great, Chris Emsworth plays hunt very well but this is really a film about Nikki Lauda and the actor who plays him, Daniel Bruhl looks very much the man that Lauda was, a driven perfectionist with dodgy social skills but ultimately a man who earned much-deserved real respect for his drive tenacity and ultimately his humanity. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_LMXOOPQr7cgCEoKMoC2UdanDIuSdMSFgxRU5je7stdbCQ5fV6NKEKzH5uKVr8xIcnT940rGB7ysNGvS1bxx5bpI2R6neY4lnMtrfkQyXypudeQVXnyJISZLnzp__tzmOQJDxiw/s1600/BBC-Two-Hunt-Lauda.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_LMXOOPQr7cgCEoKMoC2UdanDIuSdMSFgxRU5je7stdbCQ5fV6NKEKzH5uKVr8xIcnT940rGB7ysNGvS1bxx5bpI2R6neY4lnMtrfkQyXypudeQVXnyJISZLnzp__tzmOQJDxiw/s320/BBC-Two-Hunt-Lauda.png" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I believe that Lauda was a consultant to the film but it certainly doesn't see him through rose-tinted racing goggles. The closing minutes are real news photos and footage of the actual protagonists and I must admit left me a little misty-eyed and Mrs Stuffy quite moved.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>A Hubris Haiku?</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The Hunt for success</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>James drove, and lived, to excess</i></span><br />
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Stuffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15806498567164105339noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28608436.post-84238248414397293792013-09-06T18:53:00.000+01:002013-09-06T22:43:57.298+01:00TuxedoTour 2013<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">For many years I've enjoyed the occasional long weekend of very fine wines, excellent food, great hospitality and a little over-enthusiastic skiing with my chums, Roy, his astounding and supremely hospitable wife Elaine and my long term colleague and occasional excessive-tequila-buddy Richard. It became a bit of an annual fixture until, in an act of pure selfishness Roy and Elaine sold their lovely house in the Alps and decamped to another lovely house in Vence, about 30k north of the Cote d'Azur. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So last year, Richard and I packed our bicycles and descended, our aim, to try and eat and drink them out of house and home (and do a bit of gentle cycling).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The cycling, on roads, (I like cycling in the woods) was a newish thing for me, it seemed (not unlike our skiing) to involve periods of frantic activity, discomfort and pain to move ourselves from one comfortable place to another, usually resulting in beer, wine, food, coffee or all four.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I couldn't help noticing though that, unlike skiing, everything seemed to be uphill. A fundamental flaw of the sport to my mind.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">As we made ready to depart, exhausted but well cared for, someone, I'm not sure who (Richard!) suggested that on our next visit we cycle from France to Italy. Now I was aware that getting from France to Italy could easily involve a journey of a mere metre if planned correctly so I raised no objections, easy to look back in anger but, nevertheless, the Tuxedo Tour was born. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">If you'd like to see the edited highlights do please feel free to click on the beautiful red handlebars in the photo below.</span><br />
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<a href="http://youtu.be/EHvcvKluPqw" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="269" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMpnzZHLJl6uUl_jGFuVtcLxFMQW5wqk1nQC8_Pv4vhSk5N5ZRM-Y8cou4L2VhOASRwa5kldmLUm0pL0CSYOj01Esaf4SFngl-LOpLfFd92l1jkihs1WdBxSF5pvNeyfwG_69Xwg/s320/32+Those+handlebars!.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">If you're interested in statistics forget it, it was a ride, from Vence to SanRemo and back of about 180km, over a couple of days, we stayed in SanRemo in an agreeable hotel staffed by disagreeable people. With the notable exception of Chris, (by far the fittest and fleetest of us) the ladies were manning (womanning) the support vehicles, support, hah! we never saw them. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It will come as no surprise to my legions of supporters that I was slow, oh so very,very slow but I survived, got up everything, and now have a brace of Corniches and a La Turbie under my substantial belt.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It was a delightful four days of friends, fun and frolics only slightly compromised by the dolorous trudging up spectacular mountains in the baking sun by four fine cyclists and me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I think I might take them rock climbing next year...</span><br />
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<br />Stuffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15806498567164105339noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28608436.post-80363080436002453462013-08-23T12:20:00.002+01:002013-08-23T12:20:27.425+01:00Damn that girl can sing ...<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>So, my little lass, </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>now has a boyfriend, He's called Jordan,</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>so, not such a little lass any more I guess, </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>he seems to be a nice lad, a musician, </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>he wrote a song, for the missus and I, </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>and she, my little girl, sang it... </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>and it's here</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>feeling fine (coffee and wine)</i></span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyJGKJT4mWdXxvdenGkrw9g7CnUD0ukBN6kNXeiX0t0ZqeyZtL1EHKLjiCnZbUJzEoqh9deaIkb2gc' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br />
<br />Stuffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15806498567164105339noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28608436.post-12005064868534206072013-08-21T12:57:00.000+01:002013-08-21T13:00:14.006+01:00Saga, not holidays for old folk, an update on the Landy<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Yes it's a saga,</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt_kWCKCSkRt9YGft9mgKkp2jR3u7EZuUFBtpSIOcOWoz5HRko8ctjT7VaFIfp8uaRvz0C2O9IqQYgzyvB0s59zP1ueU9pUwEqTWP09S_-pNebVN2uaPJ-uo97ZfTfmqPCxw-Zbg/s1600/Screen+Shot+2013-08-21+at+12.33.52.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="121" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt_kWCKCSkRt9YGft9mgKkp2jR3u7EZuUFBtpSIOcOWoz5HRko8ctjT7VaFIfp8uaRvz0C2O9IqQYgzyvB0s59zP1ueU9pUwEqTWP09S_-pNebVN2uaPJ-uo97ZfTfmqPCxw-Zbg/s320/Screen+Shot+2013-08-21+at+12.33.52.jpg" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I can't complain, (but I probably will anyway) I bought the Land Rover a couple of years ago to practice my rusty engineering and mechanical skills and both my skill-set and wallet have been stretched as I've sought to identify and rectify the many challenges presented by a thirty year old semi-agricultural lump of corrosion and attitude.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Thanks to dozens of spare parts dealers, (many of whom are now close personal friends) and the awesome power of eBay to locate and purchase, well, everything really, we've gone through a couple of thermostats, a new battery, two starter motors, a new heater valve, a de-coke kit, a new radiator, half-shafts and bearings, brakes, brake piping, an exhaust, new electronic ignition set-up, plugs, leads, air cleaner, a new coil, two thermostats, four gasket sets, CV joints and as of last weekend a new water pump, well I met this chap and he said, "overheating? that'll be your water pump mate" it wasn't but it is nice and shiny, and very, very hot. That's another nice thing about the Landy, every other man in the world knows what's wrong with it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I must say that it now does run beautifully for the thirty minutes it takes to approach the sort of temperatures found at the heart of the sun. I may have to get onto ebay and buy a drawing board so that I can go back to it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But I have a plan ... it's not very manly, I'm going to ask for help ...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Stuffyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15806498567164105339noreply@blogger.com0