Tuesday, 22 January 2013

Poetry Corner.

I know what you're thinking - what's *really* been missing from the whole Lance circus is a piece in antidactylus trimeter...


I've been trying to think of a way
To express how I'm feeling today,
And I've had to conclude
That without being rude,
There just isn't a lot I can say.

So I'm giving up being polite
What I saw on the telly that night;
A controlled demonstration
To our consternation,
And to put it quite bluntly, 'twas shite.

This could have redeemed you, Armstrong,
I'm afraid that you played it all wrong.
To commute your 'life sentence'
You must show some repentance,
"They were telling the truth all along".

You tried to play 'poor little Lance',
But in lies you seem somewhat advanced.
Are we s'posed to forget
All those lives you have wrecked?
Do you really expect one more chance?

He admitted the dope, but just that;
And we couldn't escape from the fact
That try as he might
He could not seem contrite,
But he never said Betsy was fat! (so that's alright then)

Lance, it's going to take more than just shrugs
To repent a career based on drugs.
And I know you're perplexed
That we're all still so vexed
But too long you have played us for mugs.

For up 'til now, all of the while,
You were issuing quite a denial,
As stony of face
You would swear that the race
Was not won on the strength of a phial.

Just 'One big lie' that you repeated?
Can you not understand, we feel cheated?
You abridged your admission,
No display of contrition
To those clean cyclists that you defeated (and bullied, and ruined etc etc etc)

So, to the performance of Oprah,
Well, we wondered how well she might cope-rah
In the face of a snake,
But she made no mistake,
And it seemed she just gave him the rope-rah.

So what's next in line for our friend?
Books, movies and shows without end.
An E! Channel biopic
(The actor myopic)
And a musical on the West End?

Pardon me, but I think that it's funny
That what's important to him now ain't the money,
But the chance to don trunks
And line up with the hunks,
And get ready to bike, swim and run-ny.

Now what is the moral of this tale?
That in time every cheater will fail
Efforts not to get caught
In the end come to naught
Hell, you might even end up in jail!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

With sincere apologies to Dr Alice Miller, who probably will never see this, but wrote the entire first verse and half of the second in the mid 1990's at Maynard School.  It's been trapped in my subconscious ever since.

Thursday, 10 January 2013

Logistics

Shove over girls, room for a small one...




There's been a bit of to-ing and fro-ing; some ups and downs; a little disappointment, a lot of  excitement.  Finally she's coming.  The new bike, Suzy, is on her way.  T-2 days.

In anticipation of this joyous event, the cyclist has booked himself a little paternity leave from work, and organised a first ride 'play-date' to a Mountain Bike Trail in North Wales.  He's about as giddy as our 7-year old son was 2 days before Christmas.  Suzy's imminent arrival is pretty much all he can talk about.  Previously a committed Roadie, he genuinely cannot wait to get off-road and dirty; at the moment probably his most used word is 'Enduro' - he's even joined a Facebook group of like minded individuals, and trust me when I say this, this sort of behaviour is highly irregular.  This is not generally speaking a boy who plays well with others.

But the arrival of a new bike begs an awkward conversation and a difficult question; where the hell are we going to put the sodding thing?

Famously, visitors to Redlands in the late 1960's had to sit on the floor as all the chairs were taken up by Keith Richards' guitars; a model the cyclist would cheerfully emulate substituting, of course, the guitars for bikes.  And perhaps getting some bigger chairs.  Possibly even a chaise lounge or two.

There is actually a very real possibility we might have to stick Suzy on the sofa; there is no space.  Our very small house is already straining at the seams.  The bikes have to be inside the house for security purposes, and our front room already has 2 in it, tessellated Escher-style in front of the fireplace, occasionally press-ganged into laundry drying service or forming the basis of a handy battleground for whatever game it is the kids are thumping each other over at that precise moment.  The ceiling in our bedroom is positively bowing under the stored weight of the cyclist's bikes from his former life lurking in the loft, including an extremely elderly time-trial frame (vintage? Antique?), possibly actually hewn from rock at the dawn of civilisation.  We might have been able to squeeze Suzy in to the bathroom, next to the shower, but the cyclist kiboshed this on the grounds of 'splashback'.  There's nowhere to turn in the kitchen.  The dining area is already home to 3 wheels and a winter frame.  The bedroom is out of bounds - hell, I have to draw a line somewhere.  She's going to have to live in the front room.

But oh! the front room.  There is so much (and here I use the technical term) CRAP in our front room, accessing almost anything is like taking on a particularly tricky Crystal Maze puzzle, perhaps from the Industrial Zone.  It's entirely possible that when we move out we'll find the dry bones of an accountant called Dave from Slough who got locked in somewhere between the telly and the gaudy pink play kitchen in 1993.  Currently added to our already critically high levels of standard everyday flotsam and jetsam is the remains of the Christmas detritus (and yes, I am well aware it's mid-January now), including several metric tonnes of brand new Barbies dressed like pole-dancers and Moshi Monsters which will cripple you even worse than a Lego should you have the misfortune to stand on one, which I've been avoiding sorting in to the correct Ikea plastic storage boxes.  For that extra frisson of excitement, once they've run the gauntlet of the Krypton Factor style assault course to enter the inner sanctum, guests to our humble abode can also look forward to debilitating mauling from a small, unpredictable cat with a predilection for GBH and the IQ of a banana - who will, when you least expect it, position himself under where you're about to put your foot and attempt to remove it at the ankle, before dashing wild eyed and flat-eared up the christmas tree (still in the front room, de-baubled and awaiting relegation to the loft), and trying to shag it.  The whole place is very much, in fact, like a ruined and booby-trapped temple from off of an Indiana Jones movie, except Indy did what he did for the Fortune and Glory, kid, and not merely to get to the hairspray in the cupboard next to the fireplace.

As an exercise in 'blue-sky' thinking, I made the following suggestion regarding Carly, the 'best' bike;
'In order to free up a bit of space, and as you probably won't ride her again now 'til the race season starts, how's about we leave her at the office?' (Please note, the office is safe, secure, and has tonnes of space).
He looks at me like I just suggested we break his mother down and sell her off organ by organ on a black market internet auction site.
'Or not, just a silly idea really' I hastily add, backpedalling furiously.

The look on his face is telling me that if anyone's going to be sleeping at the office in order to 'free up space', it'll be me.




Thursday, 3 January 2013

Why do they all wear blue (2013).

Never judge a pro team jersey until you've seen a fat man at a sportive have a heart attack in it. - Simon Lamb,  (@simon_lamb)

In a (very) early blog post, I made the shocking confession that I frequently struggle when watching pro cycling to tell the teams apart based solely on the PE Kits of the riders alone (feel free to immerse yourself in my stupidity here).  And as it's finally January, it's officially time for the new kit reveal!  Read on, to discover who I'll be confusing for who in 2013.


What follows is completely devoid of fact, structured argument, or indeed any sensible statement whatsoever.






Ah Jay Duhs Air
No change from last year's kit (that I can see, anyway). I've actually never had a problem with this one. I'll accept that poo-brown shorts aren't everyone's cup of tea, but I don't actually think they look that bad on pro bottoms.  How the hell they'd look on an amateur bottom is however another story.  Luckily, we'll probably never know.
Most likely to be accessorised with kinesio tape in accent blue.




Argos Shimano
Thank god they're no longer team ITV4.  The jersey, hopefully unlike the team, is utterly mired in mediocrity. I've forgotten what it looks like already.  Oh, there it is.  No, it's gone again.  2013 update is due mid-jan, expect it'll be blooming identical as it was subject to a mid-season sponsor-related update in 2012.
Most likely to upset the sprints competition and be worn with rakish facial hair.




Astana
What can you say about grown men in head-to-toe turquoise with lemon accents?  I have once, with my actual EYES, seen a fella in full replica Astana get-up (including the legwarmers ffs) inhaling a caramel slice at a cafe stop on a grim Sunday near Stockport.  I swear on my mother I am not shitting you.  Frankly, I was shocked that this sort of thing is even allowed.  But, with suitably grim fascination, I'm looking forward to seeing if the pearlised Time-Trial skinsuits survived to 2013.
Most likely to be seen with a musette full of ten-euro notes with non-sequential serial numbers.




Blanco
Utterly fabulous from the back - love the colour-blocking dahlings.  Loses points for the blue and black and white - quelle surprise.  But the front!  Plunged down in my estimation by the addition of the team name in an astonishingly shit typeface.  Seriously, only a slightly peeling iron-on transfer in Comic Sans could have looked less pro.
Most likely to be seen crossing the line in fifth.




BMC
Winner winner chicken dinner.  Don't change a fit team kit, and they haven't.  I've always liked this, I can actually tell them apart from the other boys, and I particularly like the time trial get-up, cos the helmets make them look like Spaceballs.
Most likely to be a loss leader.


Cannondale
Official release is mid-Jan (what is it with these mid-Jan jerseys?  We demand answers, goddam it!) Lime expected to feature heavily.  There is talk of stripes.
Most likely to be the one you forget. As in 10 minutes racking your brain cos you've only got 17 out of the 18 teams and are trying not to write about the Katusha jersey.




Euskaltel
CARROTS!  In nature, animals signify they are highly dangerous with displays of bright colours.  These dudes are Orange for a reason. Get down!  If you look carefully, the 2013 kit actually comes pre-bloodied on the left arm and buttock, presumably to save time.
Most likely to clash with the bloodstains.




FDJ- Bigmat
White, eh?  Tbh if you're going to wear head-to-toe white lycra for a living, you could do a lot worse.  
Most likely to cop a proper eyeful on a wet stage.




Garmin
Gar-meh.  No changes, which means I will still think they're Quicksteppers or last years Sky.
Most likely to be seen in fourth.




Lampre
'Oh my God, have you seen the bikes!?  It's a girls bike!' - The cyclist.
Still predominantly pink (hot).  The addition of the flashes of green for 2013 has done no-one any favours, except presumably Pettachi, who one can only assume insisted on it to bring out his eyes.
Most likely to make you adjust your telly settings.




Lotto Belisol
New yellow sleeve.  I think it's alright - a far better display of some additional yellow than the god-awful Saxo offering.  The cyclist took one look and exclaimed 'Pah! It's got a Cyclocross shoulder!', which I don't think was meant to be flattering.
Most likely to win.... shit small races.




Movistar
Pretty suave, as it goes.  No discernible change from last year's look.  With the addition of Essex's finest, now officially the 'Reemest' strip in the peloton.  Tan-tastic!
Most likely to be seen at 'random' post race control.




Omega-Pharma Quickstep
Better from the back than the front, which was probably deliberate, as that's how it's most likely to be seen by everyone else - eating their dirt.  Last year's was a nicer jersey, but this year's look less like a Garmin.
Most likely to be seen winning the shit out of everything. Everything.




Orica Greenedge
Favourite jersey of 2012.  Green n' blue n' sexy fades.  Loves it. Also, I have endless goodwill extended to these boys for a) being predominantly Aussie and b) 3 YouTube minutes of glory and wonder. Call me, baby!
Most likely to be seen upsetting in the Classics.

Radioshack
Due for release mid-Jan.  Yeah, whevs, it's totally going to be the least car-crash aspect of 2013 for this lot.
Most likely to be under a cloud and in the headlines for all the wrong reasons.




Saxo-Tinkoff
It really is just a bit of a mess, isn't it?  Blue and yellow could look really good, it just doesn't here.  Or on the Vaconsoleil kit either.  And what's with the half arsed lightening strike on the reverse?
Most likely to be off the red meat.




Sky
Baddest, most winningest team (biased) + designer clothing brand hook up = most eagerly anticipated 2013 strip in the peloton.  Hell, there were even internetz rumours Sir Paul Smith was in on the design, and we Could. Not. Wait.  And here it is.  Phone it in, did we Rapha? "... yeah, yeah, black ..... yeah, stick a stripe on the arm .....".  Except it's probably not black, it's 'Moonless Tuesday in Wyoming', or 'Squid Ink Risotto' or some such (plus I expect it's massively 'technical').  Bang 'em out, £200 a pop, sell 'em til the cows come home.  So utterly devastatingly disappointing I bit the inside of my own cheek when I saw it.  Still my boys though.  Still my boys.
Most likely to be seen everywhere, on everyone.




Vaconsoleil
Actually manages to make the shorts and jersey look like they're from completely separate kits, despite them being in the same colours and livery.  Bloody awful.  And is that a stylised pineapple ring?
Most likely to be seen in the breakaway or attacking in the feed zone.

In a cruel twist of fate, somehow when putting this blog post together I managed to install the picture of the 2012 Argos-Shimano jersey as my desktop background image.  Still can't remember what it looks like, mind.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

UPDATE 4/1/13

Bloody Rapha.  Took me ages coming up with that bit, and then the very next day they go and release this http://teamsky-2013-mallorca.rapha.cc/ basically just to make me look a fool.  I've got to be honest, the full team kit looks pretty darn special.  Fact that it's on Bernie and Peter isn't exactly hurting, either.  From what I can gather the price points are extremely reasonable, and the detailing is lush.  Well played, Rapha.  Well played.



----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sources - these sites did the hard work, I just brought the sarcasm.
http://tourdejose.com/team-kits-2013/
http://sicycle.wordpress.com/2012/12/13/2013-cycling-jerseys/

Picture Credits:
AG2R - Tour de José via Biciclismo
Argos -Shimano - Tour de José 
Astana  - Tour de José 
Blanco - Tour de José viErik Dekker, Ad Pertijs and Mathieu Heiboer
BMC - Tour de José via BMC Pro Team
Euskaltel - Tour de José via Biciclismo (@biciciclismoweb)
FDJ-Bigmat - Tour de José 
Garmin-Sharp - Tour de José via @spaziociclismo
Lampre - Tour de José via @cobblesandhills
Lotto-Belisol - Tour de José 
Movistar - Tour de José  
Omega-Pharma Quickstep - Tour de José 
Orica-Greenedge - Tour de José 
Saxobank-Tinkoff - Tour de José via Sportful
Sky - Tour de José via Facebook
Vaconsoleil - Tour de José via CyclingNews

Friday, 14 December 2012

We are expecting....

There is a new addition to our little family on the way.  

The cyclist is quite possibly deep in the throes of a bona fide mid-life crisis

You might remember that a while back he bought a Mountain Bike magazine and started googling things like 'How long on average will I be in plaster if I attempt the Megavalanche?' 'Are tattoos absolutely compulsory', and 'Amber Heard totally likes Mountain Bikers, right?'.  Well, after a minimal 3 month research and comparison phase (which in cyclist terms practically makes this an impulse buy), we appear - according at least to headline figures from the joint account - to have placed an order for a Santa Cruz Nomad.  A Santa Cruz Nomad which will be joining us in January.

And believe it or not, I actually know even less about Mountain Biking than I do about Road Cycling...


Tuesday, 4 December 2012

A Cyclist is for life, not just for Christmas.

It's been done before.  It's been done better.  But here it is anyway..... The Domestique Bliss Cyclist Christmas Gift Guide (or something).

Making a broad, sweeping generalisation (because who doesn't love those?) - cyclists come in two types.  There are the cyclists that just love bikes.  They love anything with a bike on, made for bikes, for people going on bikes.  These are Type I cyclists, and are easy to buy for - they'll be delighted with anything with a bike on.  You don't need a gift guide for them.  Then there are the others.

Ah, the others.  My cyclist is, of course, an other.  The others get little enjoyment from cycling.  Cycling is far too important for that.  It's all about pain.  Pain and money.  Pain and money and carbon.  The others are of course the Type II cyclists.  And buying for a Type II cyclist can be an absolute nightmare.  See following sample conversation between me and my mother:

Mother: "What does the cyclist want for Christmas?"
Me:  "....... I don't...... I can't....... It's just.......... I can't have this conversation right now.  I'll call you back." *Bursts into tears, slams phone down*.

Big Presents

Clothing
A straw poll of Twitter cycling types revealed strong desires for swanky threads.  A tip here for anyone attempting to buy cycling clothing as a gift for a Type II cyclist (or even a Type I with moderate Type II tendencies) - now is not the time to be using your initiative.  Your Type II cyclist will have a specific wish list detailing the garments they want.  This wish list will have been meticulously researched, cross referenced and ranked in order of preference.  Web pages will be marked, catalogues will be left open with a particular garment circled and annotated with such helpful hints as 'THIS ONE', 'THIS ONE RIGHT HERE', 'I'M A L', 'IN BLACK PLEASE', 'DON'T BUY ANYTHING ELSE COS I'LL ONLY CHANGE IT FOR THIS AND SULK'.  Seriously, do not go off piste on this one.  They know exactly what they want, and quite possibly will not thank you for buying them what you think they want.

Components
Another extremely popular answer when polled about what they wanted for christmas was bling-y bike bits.  Interestingly, only one person actually wanted a new bike - all the others wanted a flashy or shiny or carbon bit for an existing bike, which almost certainly proves something about something about cyclists.  Odds on, if you are seriously considering buying your cyclist a flashy and expensive bit for their bike (be it wheels or Di2 or whatever), you've been dropped hints for months, and know the exact thing they want, and probably bought it months ago.  If anyone is genuinely thinking 'Hmmmm, I wonder if my cyclist would like an 11-speed Di2 for christmas - I'll get one just in case', you have far more money than sense and should send me your bank account details for safekeeping immediately.

Little Presents (little being a relative term)

Now, this is where I thought you might like some help, and where I might just be able to help out.  I have compiled a little list of cycling related things I (and the cyclist) absolutely love, or stuff I've seen that I genuinely think might make an interesting and thoughtful gift.

Il Dolore
 - hand blended massage oils for cyclists.





The range consists of Verde, a pre-ride energising oil and Rosa, a post-ride restorative oil.  Available from Velobici or direct from http://il-dolore.myshopify.com/

In the mid-90's, the cyclist raced a few seasons in Belgium and Northern France.  A few times he has mentioned a weapons-grade embrocation called Sixtus, with a particular smell, and his desire to get his grubby paws on a bottle.

Over the years I have conducted no fewer than 2 half-arsed google searches for the product in question, only to come up empty handed - I suspect it's been banned - but one whiff of Verde, and he was back in that Belgian changing room, about to get his skinny and terrified British ass handed to him by several dozen enormous Belgians, born straight from the mud like those nightmarish Orc creatures from The Lord of the Rings movies (that's a touch disingenuous, the cyclist didn't do that badly over there - especially with the lay-deez). Ah!  Sweet, sweet reminiscence!

Rouleur Mugs by Richard Mitchelson





















Available from http://rouleur.cc/shop  Please also check out Richard's other fantastic work at http://www.richmitch.co.uk/

I just love these so much.  

There are plenty of cyclists to choose from, either singly, or (if you are particularly filled with the warm glow of the season) in sets of 4.  It genuinely hurts my heart that we own none of these (my finger hovers over the Buy Me! button more often than I'd care to admit), but we have a combination of horrible small children who are basically savages and have no respect for anything, and tiled floors throughout our house that would guarantee a heartbreaking slow-motion smash scene that it brings a lump to my throat just to imagine.  But just because we can't have beautiful things doesn't mean you shouldn't.  Also, particularly with the British Cycling licensed set illustrated above you get the added bonus of knowing your gift is perfect (on the general basis that nothing with Laura Trott's face on could possibly offend), and plenty of opportunity for double-entendre based hilarity* as you slink off to the kitchen to put something hot 'n wet in the 2012 hero of your choice!

*could wear thin pretty quickly.

(Wiggo, if you're asking.  Or Cav.  Or Ed Clancy.  Love the Pantani one too.)

Gloves and Overshoes

Keeping hands and feet warm and dry is basically the main battleground in the war of cyclists vs. elements.  And your cyclist (or you, if you are the cyclist) will need something that keeps their hands and feet warm and dry 80% of the sodding time, thank you Great British weather.  A quick discussion with the cyclist has basically distilled the requirements to two words - Gore.  Tex.  Seriously, if it's not Gore Tex, don't bother.  The cyclist has Gore Gore Tex overshoes, and hasn't slagged them off, so they must be good.



http://www.rosebikes.co.uk/article/gore-bike-wear-gore-gore-tex-overshoes-race-power-382672/aid:382680/?origin=pla&kw=&gclid=CM3EhuOwgbQCFQzKtAodZTsATQ

There are matching Gore Tex gloves too.


http://www.wiggle.co.uk/gore-bike-wear-countdown-gore-tex-mtb-gloves/?utm_source=google&utm_medium=cpc&utm_campaign=uk&gclid=CJPUofWmgbQCFe_MtAodVX

Magazine Subscription

There are loads of great cycling magazines, and taking the cyclist as the benchmark for all cyclists, I am therefore bound to conclude that all cyclists have a cheeky little magazine habit.  Under these circumstances (the ones where they pop in to WHSmiths unaccompanied and come out 10 minutes and 30 quid lighter with a very heavy carrier bag and a faraway look in the eyes once a month), a subscription could actually save you a small fortune.

I'm going to say this once and own it - My name is Rebecca and I'm a wanky Rouleur reader.  And I'm not even sorry. I love it.  I love the smell of it, and the weight of the pages.  I love the quality and breadth of the articles (seriously! I only get it for the articles!) and the melancholy beauty of the photography.  Reading it makes me feel dead intellectual and that (until I totally ruin it by putting Rouleur down and picking up Now! - but I think what's missing from Rouleur is in-depth analysis of Kerry Katona's latest relationship crisis).  I buy it with the cyclist as an excuse ('Look darling! I got you the new Rouleur! Then I read the whole thing cover to cover, dog-eared 50% of the pages and spilt tea on the 3rd part of the exposé of the cycling scene behind the Iron Curtain!') - but I also buy him Privateer, which again covers a huge spectrum of topics (and which he prefers - hell, I'll even let him read it first.  Sometimes), and has the same wonderfully-smelling thick pages, and principles of brilliantly constructed pieces coupled with gorgeous and stylish design.

http://www.privateer.cc/
http://www.rouleur.cc/

MyKnoaky

Adorable lucky wooden talisman for attaching to your bike or wearing about your person, brought to us by Andreas Klier - what's not to love?  The company also supports the Plant for the Planet foundation - 1 MyKnoaky = 1 tree planted - and has a special Ride for the Kids edition.

http://www.myknoaky-onlineshop.com/

CO2 Pump and Cartridges

Filed under 'Things the cyclist wants but has never got around to getting' is a CO2 pump and spare cartridges.  Practical, useful and innovative, any cyclist will send tearful, grateful prayers of thanks for this on the inevitable occasion they find themselves on a back lane in February, with no phone signal and the early signs of hypothermia, trying desperately to finish repairing a puncture with fingers that stopped working 20 minutes ago.



http://www.ribblecycles.co.uk/sp/road-track-bike/pumps-pumps-mini-co2-systems-sks-airgun-co2-mini-pump-with-16g-cartridge/sksapumr240000000000

Cycling Souvenirs Mugs

It's not just cycling that unites cyclists.  The vast majority are also completely obsessed with coffee and cake.  These beautiful mugs, uniting the twin passions of coffee and iconic cycling climbs and races were brought to my attention when asking for gift ideas on Twitter, and I am only sorry I hadn't discovered them before.



http://www.cyclingsouvenirs.com/mugs
http://www.cyclingsouvenirs.com/espresso-mugs

Books

There are literally thousands of books available on all aspects of cycling, including a whole host of fascinating biographies on almost anyone you can think of.  The two that have crossed my mind as being excellent (and crucially non-contentious - The Secret Race might not be everyone's idea of a light Boxing-day read) gifts are Made In England - The Artisans Behind the Hand-Built Bicycle (which frankly looks gorgeous and fascinating) and The Cycling Anthology, a collection of essays by leading cycling writers.

http://www.pushprojects.net/
http://www.lionelbirnie.com/cyclinganthology/

As an aside, here's a link to Cycling Food On The Go - a collection of 20 recipes for cyclists in an e-book raising money for the charity Mind.
http://thediaryofmybike.blogspot.co.uk/2012/11/cycling-food-on-go_15.html

If you still require inspiration, the links below are to other guides to buying the perfect Christmas gift for your cyclist, both better researched and written than this!

http://road.cc/content/feature/71079-christmas-gifts-discerning-cyclists
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/sport/othersports/cycling/9714870Christmas-gift-guide-cycling.html



Tuesday, 27 November 2012

Decal Disaster

Yeah, yeah, I know. 'sbeen AGES.  Even my MUM'S been bollocking me...

You might remember back in the summer the cyclist smashed the shit out of one of his fancy wheels, did himself some fairly impressive damage in the process, and spent months flumping around the place generally getting under my feet and complaining about not riding his bike.  And that after some pretty extensive research (thank you Bike Rumor) and list making, we toddled off hand-in-hand on a not overly successful trip to a popular bike shop that shall remain nameless, apparently exclusively staffed by dimwits and morons (I know you know) to dictate in words of one syllable the precise items we wished to purchase.

And that smashing the shit out of a front wheel means you have to buy quite a lot of replacement wheels because of aerodynamics and physics and that (really, the cyclist can explain it so much better than me).

Well, this little trip was back in July (documented here). I got a bike of my very own (currently set up in turbo trainer in front room, where I will occasionally sacrifice style for speed for 30 minutes* when I'm not using it as a drying rack for jeans and duvet covers), and the ancillary bike kit that one requires.  The cyclist picked up some replacements for the bits that had been ruined by the crash - most importantly some extremely blingy Bont shoes, and also chose some new rims to build replacement wheels on to. 18 hole front and 24 hole rear to match the hubs from the destroyed wheel and it's friend.  Special tubeless rims to avoid punctures, with less rolling resistance (and basically because they're new and he reckons he needs them in his life).
*30 minutes denotes chamois time not turbo time.

And last week - last week! - the aforementioned spanky new rims finally arrived.

'But you ordered them 4 MONTHS ago! And the warehouse had them IN STOCK!'
Why yes, dear reader, you have hit the nail on the head.  Here's what happened.

We put the order in at the bike shop.  The bike shop put the order in to the warehouse.  We paid, and took the items that were actually in the shop, and awaited a quick phone call to let us know the other bits had come in so we could pick it up.  And waited.  And phoned the bike shop.  And were told that all our stuff had come in and we could come and get it.  And went and got it.

Except there were no rims.  But we would get a call on Tuesday to let us know when they would be in the shop for collection, probably later that week.

And we waited.  And Tuesday came and went.  And we waited.  And we phoned the bike shop, but the person we needed to speak to wasn't in that day, but he would phone us on Tuesday.  And we waited.  And we phoned the bike shop.  And we got a bit shirty.  And we went to the bike shop.  And the rims had been there, but they weren't there any more, they'd been sent back to the warehouse, and we'd get a phone call on Tuesday.  And we waited.  And we didn't go back down to the bike shop because we weren't sure we'd be able to keep our temper.  And we phoned the bike shop, but the person we needed to speak to wasn't in that day but he'd definitely call us back.  And we phoned the bike shop and put on a funny voice and gave a fake name, but he really wasn't there (or he was avoiding all calls in case it was us putting on a funny voice).  And we waited.  And eventually we rang head office and dished out a bit of a bollocking and funnily enough the rims rocked up at the office a few days later.

And here's the killer: Four months after ordering the bastarding things, one of the rims that has turned up is the 2012 version they presumably had in stock, while the other is straight from the distributer and (we assume) 2013 version.  So the situation we find ourselves in is a subtle but totally crucial minor difference in the stickers which is sending the cyclist's bike OCD into apoplectic spasms of fury and frustration.



The crucial detail of bike decals, be it on the frame, wheels, stems or saddles, is absolutely an art form unto itself.  Heck, there's even a reasonably large market in custom post-factory decals should a cyclist absolutely require a certain size of lettering or colour detail.  And as his bike is his pride and joy, rim decals that don't match will not be happening on my cyclist's watch.  Wrecking his fingernails, soaking the stickers with washing up liquid, and scraping away with various utensils, all the while muttering and swearing to get the feckers off will be happening.



Thursday, 11 October 2012

Farce-port

Thought I'd go a bit off topic and tell you the one about the stressed-out mum and the passport office....

That's the thing about holidays.  There's paperwork.

We went off on a long-awaited holiday recently.  Long-awaited, because for reasons I'll not bore you with we've not been on one in a while.  And, slightly to my shame, this holiday represented the first time we've ever taken the squids to the great abroad.  And taking squids to the great abroad requires the aforementioned paperwork.

In the best traditions of these things, and again for reasons I'll not bore you with too much, I left the organisation of the paperwork to the last possible minute.  Obtaining their papers (I am saying that 'Allo 'Allo style, feel free to join me) was on my radar, in the same vague sort of a way as helping them pick their GCSE subjects.

Naively, I assumed that when I got round to it I would arrange myself a little appointment at the nearest passport office (Liverpool), waste a bit of time in a local coffee shop, return to pick up the kids passports and be back in time for tea.  I think we can all probably tell by this point that that was not how this shit was going to go down.

Point the first: you cannot get a kids first passport on the same day.  Once you know this, the reasons seem pretty obvious really, but it genuinely hadn't occurred to me that this was the case.  They can guarantee to turn the document around in a week, but no quicker.  Luckily, I had made this discovery 2 weeks before our departure day.

Point the second: I couldn't get an appointment at Liverpool passport office in time.  I made the call, gave the information and was told the first available slot they had at the Liverpool office (about half an hour away) was September the 18th.  That meant they would guarantee the passports back on or before the 26th September.  Our outward flight was 6am on the 25th.  Fuck.

I had the first little wibble at this point.

Point the third: Durham is a lot further away than it looks.  The next nearest passport office is in Durham, and I could get an appointment in plenty of time.  I almost calmed down at this point, until I checked my route on google maps, and gave myself permission for another little wibble.  On the day, I gritted my teeth, tooled myself up with a couple of packets of Haribo, and set off for the 3 hour drive to the far north like an intrepid pioneer in the Amelia Earheart model (actual similarity to Amelia Earhart may vary).

Point the fourth: It pisses down epically in Durham*.  I got the right turning after the third go round the Durham city centre one-way system (yes I have sat nav.  Her name is Sally and she's the definition of frenemy).  I sweaty-palmedly negotiated a multi-storey carpark, and came to a halt not sure if I was more desperate for a coffee or a wee.  We (yes I was packing a three-year old too, who was casting her vote for wee) had over 2 hours to kill til our appointment time at the passport office, and got completely drenched.  Any bits of us that weren't utterly soaked were soon seen to by a passing white van.
* other weather may be available but certainly wasn't in evidence.

The interview at the passport office passed without incident, the drive home was boring, but the sun came out and there was even a little rainbow. This was not, in hindsight, a little sign that everything from this point was going to go well.

The first buggeration factor was the text from the courier company on Monday at 9.05, when I was approximately 100yards from the house and in a full sprint on the way back from the school run, saying they'd tried to deliver my item.  Because what 'We will be with you sometime between 9 and 5' really means is 'We will rock up the second you drop the kids at school/ pop outside to hang out the washing/ nip to the loo - and then vanish like a puff of smoke'.  I rebooked delivery for Wednesday, but got another text Tuesday.  I missed them Wednesday too (school run again).

The delivery came on Thursday.   It was 5 days before we were leaving.  I was feeling quite smug about it all.  But when I opened it, there was Oscar's passport.  No passport for Isabella.  Wibble time.  A call to the courier company, a confirmation that this was the only delivery they had for me.  A full-blown panic.

They give you a receipt at the passport office with a unique 9-digit number barcode that you need to quote when following up with any queries etc.  I had, of course, lost it - probably threw it away.  And so I'm there 10 minutes later with a pair of rubber gloves on pretty much hysterical and going through the bins on the kitchen floor like a mental.  An hour later, still no sign of the one bit of paper I needed, although I'd found quite a lot of old spaghetti.

I rang the passport office and managed to bypass the 9-digit barcode safety protocol by crying.  At this stage the crying wasn't actually deliberate, I'd started properly about half an hour before and couldn't stop.  They had all my details, all Bella's details, and everything was fine.  Then they asked for our address.  After a bit of to-ing and fro-ing it turned out that for some reason they had attributed the wrong postcode to Bella's application and dispatched her passport to an address in Prestwich.

I did the only thing I could at this point - rang the cyclist at work and had a complete heaving mucus-filled meltdown where 2 out of every 3 words were only audible by dogs.

The courier company were able to confirm the delivery in my name to the wrong address hadn't been actioned.  They still had Bella's passport, which was a massive relief - but they couldn't change the address on the delivery until they had an instruction to do so from the passport office, and did I want to call back Monday.  No, I said, I did not want to call back Monday, because at 6am on Tuesday we were flying from Manchester Airport.  A little later I got a voicemail saying the re-delivery had been confirmed and the passport would be with me Friday.  I breathed out and got a drink.

Friday I get a text from the couriers. 'Sorry, we are unable to deliver today. Delivery has been re-booked for tomorrow'.  Yep, you've guessed it, wibble.  I rang them up to ask if I could come and pick it up, to be told that it was at their Northampton depot, probably a 4 hour drive.  I gave up and placed our holiday fate in the hands of the courier gods (Mercury and Yodel if my memory serves me), and got on with the task of taking the house apart to find the cyclist's passport, which we knew had to be here somewhere and eventually turned up behind the bedside table under a Bill Bryson book about 3 hours later.

Bella's passport arrived Saturday morning, about 11am.  I didn't kiss the delivery man out of sheer relief because that sort of thing gets the neighbours talking.

Now we're back from our holiday all our passports are in one place  -  the special compartment in the document folder in the cupboard, where they should have been all along.

Monday, 8 October 2012

Apologies

Sincerest apologies for not having posted in the last couple of weeks - events have conspired to rob me of both my time and inspiration!

In the meantime though I have posted a three-part 'introduction' to Domestique Bliss on the Wheelsuckers site - I was extremely flattered to be asked to provide them with some guest blogs.  If you've been reading for a while you will recognise a lot of the gist of the Wheelsuckers posts, but there's some new stuff in there as well.

Feel free to have a look at 'The Bike, The Bits and The Wardrobe' here.