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Give peas a chance

June 22nd and it was to have been mums birthday but as she was not here to celebrate it we held it without her and in her honour. Sophia Loren and her mum came along and we had a meal and celebrated with a toast of Vodka in memory of Elsie aka the Marchioness of Ghastanbury. I say a toast there were quite a few of them and the evening fairly rattled along. My brother rang and I had a beer or two over the phone with him and before we knew it the night had become a blur. The following day Elsie’s ex carer called in and so we did it again joined by Roger Moor and the Animal and another hazy night of memories and anecdotes passed into oblivion.

I had made arrangements to go and stay with Big Bro for the weekend some time ago and as Friday morning arrived I loaded up the bike and Bean Counter and I set off to Edinburgh. The plan was to go at a steady pace and try to outrun the pending dark clouds and possible rain which we managed to do. 250 miles of motorway slipped effortlessly by and before we knew it we were being greeted by familiar faces. It was a relief to get off the bike and my arse is now resembling something like a teak plank but a few beers later followed by a cracking meal and I had forgotten about any pain in my posterior.

The following morning arrived and I just did not feel like getting out of bed at all and it was 10-30ish by the time I surfaced to a cooked breakfast cooked by Sis in Law along with a mug of steaming tea. I had planned to go out for a ride and view some of the spectacular scenery in his part of the world but the clouds did not look inviting and so I chilled out until his friends came along for a drink and a meal sometime in the afternoon. It had been a few years since I had last seen Camouflage and his wife the Lighthouse Keeper but we caught up in no time aided by a few beers. As happens all too often the evening ended and as they left we promised to try and stay in touch longer and not leave it so long. I will try this time I promise.

Arriving back at Chateau Ghastanbury it was obvious the weather had played havoc with the grounds. My sweet corn and green beans are rocketing along as are the tomatoes and salad crops. However, my peas have all but died. I have no idea why, perhaps someone out there can enlighten me? For now all I can do is pray to the gardening gods to give peas a chance.

 

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the HUBB at Ripley 2009

And so from the wilderness of rough camping to the delights of running water, toilets and organisation, yes I took Bean Counter camping once more but this time to an organised rally in Ripley Derbyshire. On the Thursday morning our magnificent trio of Ted Magnum, BC and yours truly headed off to Lumb Farm in Ripley for the annual Horizons Unlimited meeting or the HUBB as it is known. It has been running for nine years although this was the first time I had attended. Arriving at noon with no hold ups or mishaps apart from the odd bout of cramp we made good time in a little less than two hours. We would have been considerably quicker but Rhonda was heavily laden and stability was somewhat lacking on bends and tight corners.

After arriving BC and me went into a highly organised drill of me setting the tent up and she got the camp fire on the go and made tea. Running water was readily available and the toilets were so near the tent that BC remarked they were practically en suite! With camp set up it was off to the shops for the all important provisions consisting of a couple of cases of beer, a few bottles of red wine and a bottle of Jim Beam. The organisation at these HUBB meetings is incredible and a vast array of speakers on various subjects from packing light to going half a million kilometres around the world on the same bike had been arranged over 3 days and evenings in 3 separate halls within the grounds of Lumb Farm.  A huge bonfire of Tedstock proportions was on the go from before we arrived to when we left 4 days later.

There were road kill cookery demonstrations and squirrels, rabbit and pheasant were peeled and cooked before our very eyes in a most entertaining manner by an incredibly knowledgeable man and I can say that all the animals were dead before he skinned them. Amongst some of the delights were cooked crayfish and trout and these can all be caught in local waters and cooked easily. This guy knew his stuff and presented us with wild garlic and herbs that can be found in the wild in the UK. The talks and presentations were hard to get to, let me explain. With over 500 people all walking around and talking to each other you soon forgot what time it was and I missed most of them because I was busy talking to people about my bike or their bike or what gear we had or used and the time just flew by.

I did manage to attend 3 of the events though.  The first was about packing light and the speaker was an extremist down to cutting his tooth brush handle in half and then drilling holes in what was left of the rest to make it lighter. He was an advocate of no tent and no cooker. Sleep in the open and eat cold food. Definitely not my idea of touring but it was entertaining nevertheless. The second one I managed to attend was by Ted Simon who toured the world over four years nonstop and then did it again when he was 70. It was a fascinating talk from the man who has done more to inspire people to travel around the world by motorcycle than anyone else and he was the inspiration behind Ewan McGregor and Charlie Bormans tours. The next one I managed to catch was held by Austin Vince of Enduro Mondo and Terra Circa fame. This was the funniest lecture I have ever attended and no comment or description from me could ever do it justice except to say that even if you hated motorcycles you would have enjoyed his lecture and slide show. He tore into BMW owners and touratwat with a humour that was appreciated by even the intended victims.

There were many sights that will stay with me and I only took photos of the ones that I felt were exceptional. One of those being a Vincent parked next to my tent. I have not seen one of those on the road for over 40 years. The only ones I have seen were in a museum. Sadly of all my mates the only one who I felt would really appreciate this sight would be Billy Whizz who passed away a few years ago and for an hour or so I became very sentimental thinking about my oldest friend and wishing he could have been there but it was never meant to be. The meeting taught me a lot and I spoke to people who been around the world on numerous occasions. I consider it a feat Just to do it once but some people had done this many times and some people who had done were intending to do it again. I also learnt that of all the equipment I have bought much of it is of no use for motorcycling. My tent is far heavy and bulky and so are my sleeping mats and sleeping bags. I had of course bought what I could afford as I attempted to catch up with people who had gathered their equipment over the course of many years and made mistakes along the way. It is probably a good job my own trip has been postponed for another 18 months. It will take me that long to collect all the correct equipment.

All too quickly Sunday morning arrived and the realisation that the party was over hit us all. TM had been ill for a few days and so he packed up and set off home early. BC and me made the decision to pack at a more leisurely pace and leave a few hours later. TM was already home by the time we left. Again regular readers will know of my inane lack of direction and to no one’s amazement we got lost on the way back home. The mileage there was 104 but we managed to take 150 to come home. I started worrying when I saw signposts for Sheffield and we drifted all along the dales and peaks. The satnav absolutely refused to let me set a course that would take us onto the M56 and then the M53. It continually tried to take us via Manchester and the M6 to the M62 and through Liverpool. Once again it was only BC who managed to stop me throwing this absolute piece of junk into a canal that we were passing. At the risk of being sued by Garmin I can state the Quest is the single most useless piece of shit it has been my displeasure to purchase and operate. If they want to sue me then let them. I would welcome the sight of a judge trying to make this piss poor excuse for a navigational aid work at all.

 

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Cheers boys!

All seasons in one month! Yes it is June, supposedly flaming June, but we have had flash floods, snow and now severe weather warnings of thunder storms. No wonder my plants and crops are not growing; they do not know what time of year it is. The forecasters suggested that this year would produce a wonderful summer but I have seen little evidence of it thus far. The only way you know it is supposed to be summer is by the bumper number of slugs, snails and of course mozzies! The slugs have devastated my border plants and a large herd of caterpillars have munched their way through an entire red currant bush and are now starting on the blackcurrants. Why is it that slugs, snails and caterpillars do not like weeds and nettles? If there was any need at all for genetic engineering surely it would be for something that has a voracious appetite for garden pests and mozzies or to make such creatures have a preference for things apart from food crops and flowers.

In order to obtain more sunshine to my greenhouse I have chopped over one ton of timber from my cherry blossom tree and while I was in such a mood Ogri from next door asked me to trim the dividing hedge. It has been cut back from six foot tall to just over three feet. There is now a budding pile of firewood just waiting for November the fifth and bonfire night. Of course if my mate the Tiler was here we would be burning stuff as we speak whilst knocking back a bottle of JD between us. Sadly one of the things I look forward to most of all in summer has been noticeably lacking. That is of course the good old barbecue. Regular readers will know that this started off as a barbecue site and has now developed into my own take on life and a personal travelogue. Bad weather has reduced the barbecue season to tossing a few burgers and the occasional sausage onto the grill in between rain drops. Between the rain and the economy it looks as though the big affairs at Chateau Ghastanbury and events such as Tedstock have seen their glory days and may never be repeated.

It is a sad state of affairs but events like those mentioned take up vast amounts of time and planning and not an inconsiderable amount of hard cash. When the weather cannot be relied upon it is soul destroying and spirit crushing to see all that effort and money simply wasted. Moving abroad to sunnier climes and predictable weather has never felt more appealing. Unfortunately any move has had to be put on hold until the economy picks up. Even a planned foray into Europe later on in September is now in some doubt. There is of course more than one reason for this but finance does play a big part and the numbers involved are bigger than I had thought. The schedule is also hectic and I doubt if I am physically fit enough to cope with the mileage involved during 14 days. I have started a diet and it is going well so far and my fitness levels are on the up but I can do nothing about the numbers which have seen petrol creep up again to scary prices. A petrol station in London was charging £1.42 per litre for unleaded fuel. The average nationwide is now around £1.10 or roughly a fiver per gallon.

Of course the government simply has no room to manoeuvre in the way of cutting fuel tax. The economic deficit is now so large that it will be future generations paying it all off. The knock on effect is that prices of almost every commodity are rising due to vastly increased transportation costs. At a time when wallets are being hit the hardest for almost 70-80 years this is the very last thing the country needs. It may be winter down under but I bet the Tiler and the Printer will be laughing their socks off when they read this. Cheers boys.

 

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Rough camping in the Dales

I went rough camping this weekend gone. The arrangements had been made some months ago via Ted Magnum and a bunch of other likeminded people and so me and Bean Counter saddled up and rode out alongside TM to a beauty spot in the Yorkshire Dales. The meet up had been arranged for the Saturday morning however the three of us decided to go on the Friday night and get another night in. We were met at the arranged spot by a fellow biker called Steve who informed us that a large horse fair was taking place in a town nearby and as a consequence a very large contingency of “Gypos” and “Pikeys” had arrived and that crime had gone up by 35% and everything that was not nailed down or could not be thrown into the back of a transit van was fair game. Steve took us to the safety of a camp site only a few miles away where we could be safe from our travelling brethren and our possessions would remain with us. As we arrived I looked at the sprawling site and followed TM up a grassy hill and stopped to ponder where we would set up. When TM took off to turn around and go back down I attempted to follow but my back wheel just ground a trench in the earth. Mounds of shit and earth flew from my back wheel as the bike sank lower and lower and almost up the back axle until finally two fellow campers came along to push me out of the rut. TM jumped on my bike and rode it downhill for me.

With the tents set up the four of us wandered to the local hostelry and sampled some of their finest ales. (Don’t ever drink the perry, it is truly disgusting) With our thirsts duly quenched we wandered back to the site and our tents and out came the disposable barbies, the steaks and the almost obligatory bottle of Jack Daniels. Steve produced a bottle of wine and a glass from his panniers along with a jar of olives and some feta cheese, for camping it was incredibly civilised. That is until Charlie appeared. Charlie is a local “character” and he turned up clutching a half drunk bottle of scotch. To be fair he offered everyone around our camp fire a swig from his bottle and then proceeded to collapse into TM’s bike.  An attempt was made to pick him up but he just staggered some more and so Steve stayed with him until he heard snoring.

Charlie had disappeared by the time we all woke up and we went for a breakfast at the site headquarters. A truly awesome meal with as much tea as you could drink for only four quid. We then rode out to Hawes along some truly twisting and turning roads high over a large hill, Small Mountain, and met up with some of the other adventure riders. We decided that we would go to the rough camp site. After the usual episode of me getting lost and finally arriving just before a search party was sent to look for me and BC we arrived and set up camp again. Most of the riders elected to go a ride out to the Tunhill pub; this is highest pub in the UK and I would loved to have gone but the truth is I could not keep up with the other riders who were mainly riding solo while I had a pillion. They are vastly more experienced than me and I was already feeling like Captain Slow AKA James May because of my cautious but steady riding style and I would either have held everyone up or got lost. Instead we went for provisions and chilled with our feet in the stream and a cold bottle of Merry Down cider.

As evening approached more and more riders arrived until there were 23 tents on the field and again the barbies came out. The thing is that in the Dales radio reception is not very good due to the mountains and TM who had brought his radio could only receive Classical FM. As the strains of Sibelius and Taichosky floated across the camp site I figured this was one of the most surreal settings I had ever been in. It was also one of the most beautiful. As most meals were finished it was onto the camp fire. Some wood had been brought to the site but with a few beers and manly egos ready to make fire the search was on for some real wood. Several hunting parties formed and set off. I along with two young blades found a fallen 30 foot tree (see photos for proof). Unfortunately it was on the other side of a stream and up a steep embankment. When you are full of Jack Daniels and strong cider nothing is impossible and so it proved as the three of us struggled to get the tree from one side of an embankment across a stream and up the other side and then carry it 150 yards along a road to the camp. When we arrived there were cheers and some embarrassment from other who had only managed to find six to ten foot logs. The problem now was to chop it up and axes, machetes, saws and other implements of destruction, enough to storm the Bastille, appeared and competitions took part to see who could chop/saw the fastest using whatever they had to hand. Before long we had a blazing fire that would have done Nero proud. I was truly in my element.

Conversation soon turned to all things about bikes. Orlins or Bings?  Bridgestone’s or Metzelers?  Raising kits or lowering kits? BC nodded sagely and kept her counsel as biking and travelling advice was showered on her by the 27 blokes there. There were two other women as well but it was mainly a blokey thing but I could see that BC fitted right in there and she went to bed to mull over the myriad of advice she had been proffered. Sunday morning and after a slow start to the day that included a wash in the stream and breakfast with gallons of tea I had the urge to never go back home, to just jump on the bike and head off somewhere, anywhere but home. It had been one of the best weekends of my life. I can only assume BC must have thought so too as she was completely silent for most of the weekend. I reckon this was in awe of the event and she was just lost for words. The people I met were fantastic and incredibly friendly and helpful. I hope it is not too long before I meet up with most of them again. As usual I promised the costing’s. We spent two nights away the cost of camping was eight pounds for the one night at Dent. We spent around 60 pounds on food and entertainment I used two tanks of fuel covering 239 miles at 26 pounds. Total cost for 2 people 94 pounds and a bargain at that for the fun we had. The next meet is about three weeks away but it will be organised with toilets and washrooms and facilities that mean you do not have to hide behind walls in fear of a rambler or fell walker chancing upon you in the middle of ablutions. I am sure BC will appreciate this.

 

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Stuck out here with the rest of us.

After 14 days of continual rain, it finally stopped and the sun appeared last Friday resulting in the hottest day of the year so far. The weather has been absolutely glorious and at long last some serious grass cutting has been performed by me and my two neighbours, Roger Moor and Ogri. The wet weather has played havoc with gardening schedules and as a by product there has been a bumper crop of mosquitoes and caterpillars. The mosquitoes made a right meal out of me on Sunday evening as i sat outside watching the stars and the said caterpillars have munched their way through a complete red berry bush and all I have left on display is a twig! I hate to say it but I am going for the chemical fix.

The long running saga of MP’s expenses continues to rumble on with some members of the cabinet announcing that they will stand down at the next election. This is simply not good enough. If an MP stands down at an election then they receive a “parachute payment” that could be as much as 50K sterling plus a “winding down allowance” of almost as much again. If they stand down at any other time of year apart from an election year they get nothing. They are still milking the system and announcing that they are following the rules. They should resign today and get in line on the dole queue. For us mere mortals who get caught with our hands in the till it is the sack, a possible criminal conviction and years on unemployment benefit with nothing. I said in an earlier post that I had never seen British politics sink so low and to be at a lower point of esteem at any other time in my life. I was wrong; it is lower today but not as low as it will be tomorrow. The politicians will only have themselves to blame if a minority extreme party such as the BNP take up a lot of seats.

This brings me to another worrying point, I mentioned again in a previous post, a comparison with the earlier depressions of the early 1900’s and the 1930’s and the consequences that followed. It would seem that a whole lot of countries are in the re-armament business today. China has announced an expansion of its fleet to cope with the size of the South Pacific fleet of the US and North Korea has ended its 53 year  truce with South Korea. At the moment it sounds like a lot of sabre rattling but then again so did Hitler’s military build up and invasion of the low lands prior to his invasion of Poland.

At least when we see the many vapour trails across the sky followed by a few mushroom clouds we will at least know that those cheating thieving scum who used to represent us will not be in government bomb proof shelters but stuck out here with the rest of us.

 

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Glamping in Devon

We loaded up, packed and headed off into the Sunset. Destination? Devon to stay in a yurt. Some months ago, well before Xmas, November 2008, Bean Counter read an article in a newspaper about a farm that had yurts on it. They were letting them out and I contacted them to make a booking. Partly because I wanted to take a close look at them and see if it was possible to live in one and partly because I wanted a holiday. The journey was 270 miles and BC had never ridden that far before and I had never ridden that far with a pillion and a bike that was loaded up to the gunnels.

The journey to Devon was atrocious. Constant heavy showers and gusts of wind up to 50 MPH. At some stages I felt as though we were going to be blown across all three lanes of the motorway. The showers meant we were constantly stopping at service stations to put on waterproofs and then stopping again to take them off when the sun came out before we become “Boil in a bag items”. To say my nerves were a little bit frayed is an understatement. The last big task of the day was to find the farm we were staying at. Devon is not the most sign posted place in the world and the only sign to the farm is halfway down a track off a B road. The track itself was very slippery due to all the rain and there was a ridge in the middle of it, it is also a fairly steep slope. The choice was, ride in the tyre ruts for about 500 yards and pray I did not slide into the undergrowth or ride on top of the ridge and hope the gravel did not give way underneath me. I elected to ride in the ruts. I almost filled my trousers a couple of times before we landed at the farm and level concrete.

We finally arrived 9 hours after setting off, cold tired and thoroughly exhausted but the welcome of the Sheaves family was amazing and pretty soon we had a log fire roaring and our wet clothes were toasting nicely. The yurt was fantastic and had a large double bed in it, a sofa, some chests to put things in and a bookcase with books and games in along with cast iron log fire. The size was about 18 feet across and the crown was clear which meant you could see the stars when you were in bed. The kitchen consisted of a wooden shelter with a camping gas fire with 2 rings and a toaster, plenty of cups crockery and cooking utensils and the most important thing, a kettle! The toilet was a well thought out composting toilet and the shower block although across the field was excellent. There was also a washing machine and a fridge in the shower block.

We did not get up to much the first night apart from drink tea and dry out. The second day was a day of discovery and we went into the nearest town to pick a few things up calling in at Otter St Mary and Honiton along the way.  The plan was to go to the Eden project on the third day but the dark clouds looked ominous and I did not fancy doing another 200 miles in rain so we went to Exmouth and Sidmouth to look at the beaches and have sandwiches and ice cream. Sidmouth is a really nice Regent town and I could have spent more than a day there. It was so peaceful sitting on the promenade and the ice cream there is excellent.

On the fourth day we said we would go to the Eden Project regardless of the weather as we did not know when we would be so far south again. And so it was that with a clear sky we set off. The Eden project is quite nice but the biomes seem far more impressive from the outside. I guess as the project is only seven years old the exhibits will become far more spectacular as time goes on. I also reckon that certain times of the year are better to go and see the exhibits than others. There is some amazing stuff in the visitor centre and I would recommend that if you get the opportunity you should go and see the place at some time or other. The project is very close to the coastal town of St Austell and we decided that when we left we would find a chip shop and have fish and chips by the beach. This was a big mistake as St Austell does not have a beach or a port or a harbour or if they do they have hidden it really well. After riding around for 30 minutes we gave up on trying to find the mythical beach. We finally found a chip shop some miles away and the cod I was served up, admittedly a large portion was the size of a basking shark. Honestly I have never seen such a big piece of fish with batter on it in my life. I struggled to finish it!

Now as anyone who knows me will tell you, my sense of direction is so bad it is legendary. I knew that if we did not arrive back at the farm before the sun went down we would never find it. This meant being back by 10pm. It was 7-30 before we left the chip shop and after 8 before we got under way again and coupled with a slight mishap on the M5 which meant I had to double back after missing my turn off junction and it was after 10pm when we finally came off the motorway into a myriad of unmarked and signpost less B roads. All of them looked the same. Tall hedges and tarmac without a single distinguishing feature between them. My satnav threw a wobbly and attempted on several occasions to take me down roads that did not exist. We attempted to find a taxi rank in order that we could ask the taxi to drive slowly to the farm and we could follow him. There were no taxi ranks! We tried to find a police station, there were no police stations. We tried to find a bed and breakfast place but there were none. It is about the most remote place I have ever been to in my life. At midnight and 60 miles and 2 hours since we left the motorway and with little fuel in the tank (most petrol stations there close at 7pm) we rode into the car park of the Bowd Inn.

I decided there and then I was not going to ride a single mile further. BC and me slept on a bench in the car park until 4-30 am when it was light enough to see roughly where we were going. We rode to Otter St Mary were we managed to find the only sign that pointed to the West Hills district we so badly wanted to get to. We arrived back at the yurt at 5-am, lit a fire and went to bed. We had to be out of the yurt by 10am and we had not packed so I rang Roger Moor, with instructions to ring me at 8am to get me out of bed. With only 2 hours sleep and almost as damp as when we arrived we headed out to the M5 and our way back home. After over 100 miles we pulled into a motorway service station and I noticed a Premier Inn sign and as I could not continue much further safely we booked a room for the night. After a good night’s sleep (I slept for 14 hours) I began to see the funny side of things. The previous night had me cursing and swearing never to leave the safety of the Higherdew ever again, never to go anywhere that was not sign posted and to throw my satnav into a ditch in another fit of “technic cleansing”, see the entry for July 2008.

The holiday was a fantastic experience, the yurt farm was amazing and the people who run it are brilliant. The details for anyone wanting to go are http://www.luxurydevonyurts.co.uk/  When you get there ask to see Maisie, one of the cutest little black lambs it has ever been my pleasure to meet and hopefully she will not have ended up on a plate with mint sauce. Important to note if you are going on a road bike, the track to the farm will rip off any belly pens you have and road tyres will not hack the mud on the track. Roger Moor who had looked after my cat Genghis while I was away came across and we shared a bottle of jack Daniels with hilarious consequences, see photos.

I also mentioned last year that if I ever went anywhere I would log the costs. The accommodation in the yurt was £240 for 4 nights; the stay in the premier inn was £65 with 2 large breakfasts. I covered over 950 miles with 8 fill ups at an average of 13 pounds a fill. Some places the petrol was expensive and others not so but the average was £13 and the total bill was around £104 and I spent around £200 on food and entertainment. I think this was excellent value for a lifetime of memories oh and yes you could live in one of those yurts, even in the UK with some modifications.

 

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BTW we came a respectable fifth

It’s time for a short rant….. British politics has never been at a lower ebb or held in lower esteem than right now. Our blood sucking, lying, thieving, rule bending, tax avoiding, elected representatives have been caught with not only their hand in the cookie jar, but actually trying to carry the bloody thing away. How is it that normal working people cannot claim for their food and second homes because they work miles away from where they live at tax payers expenses? It’s all very well for the Politicians to say they were only following the rules (the classic Nuremburg defence), they are the people who made the rules. The whole system absolutely stinks.

To make matter worse, a few MPs have been suspended but not sacked. Us mere mortals who do not have the privilege of a job in Her Majesties government or opposition would now be looking at our P45’s and contemplating life in the dole queue if we had of done what they have. I once said that I think everyone should go and vote even if they do not support the political system in order to show appreciation to the people who gave their lives for our very right to do so. I am not so sure any more that any politician is worth voting for. They have sunk below estate agents and solicitors in the trust stakes. To my friends the Tiler and the Printer you have done absolutely the best thing in leaving these shores, the UK is sinking in a quagmire of sleaze and financial scandal started and finished by the very people elected to run our country.

Rant over….. best wishes to the Driver whose latest squeeze has become an item and they have set up home together, I wish the pair of you the very best of luck, God knows you deserve it mate! I Look forward to having a beer with the pair of you sooner rather than later and no I am not bitter that United won the Premier league again,Honest!! On yet another note a couple of people have queried the spelling of Ghastanbury. Sometime it is spelt with an H as in Ghastly and sometime the H is missing. This is down to the fact that some times the place is ghastly and sometimes the place is gastronomic. There is no correct spelling of Ghastanbury; it is more of a gut feeling than anything else. The second thing I would like to clear up is the date on some of the photographs. Whenever I take the battery out of the camera to recharge it, the date goes back to its original setting of 2003. I always forget to change it to its current setting until some one points it out to me.

A few weeks ago I decided that me and Bean Counter needed to become used to putting the tent up and sleeping in it. So one fateful evening I decided that we would sleep out in the grounds of Chateau Ghastanbury. I put the tent up although the plan was for BC to erect the damn thing; somehow she managed to avoid that one. As usual we had a beer or two and a meal cooked on the Barbie to get into the spirit of things before we bedded down for the night. At BC’s insistence I bought a pair of sleeping bags that could be zipped together as a double and a double sleeping bag liner. When we finally crawled into our hotel for the evening I fell straight asleep. BC woke up at around 5 five and went into the house to get some sleep in a real bed. I woke up at around 7pm due to the noise of two cats fighting in the garden. I could swear it was Genghis bit I will never be certain and I went to catch up on some sleep in the house.  It would appear that I snored and kicked all the time I was in the sleeping bag and in the process managed to turn 180 degrees so I was lying across BC’s belly. She was so uncomfortable she has solemnly sworn she will never share a sleeping bag with me again. Photos of the tent can found here, here and here.

On a much lighter note Sir Terry Wogan has stepped down from hosting the Eurovision song contest this year and his shoes have been filled by no lesser a person than Graham Norton. It’s a strange tradition that many Brits hold a party at Eurovision time. It is one of those events that is so bad it is actually good. We know we have no hope of winning the damn thing due to the block voting of the Eastern European nations and indeed it is the very reason that Sir Terry has stood down. However from the truly awful performance of Gemini one year receiving the humiliating accolade of being the only British entry to receive Nil Pouit the contest has become compulsive viewing for a large section of the British population at home and abroad. It is like a train crash that you have to watch. This year the Revellers held a soiree at their own Pied a Terre and invited me and BC along. They did everyone proud and everyone got into the swing of things with almost all turning up in costume of some sort to reflect the diversity of the event. BC went as a French Brothel Madame in stripy top and beret and I did my best as a sleazy Latvian pimp. Unfortunately my pencil moustache supplied by courtesy of eye liner pencil from Commander Rikers brothers’ wife, the lovely Paula, disappeared within seconds of my first drink and my wiping my top lip dry. It was a fantastic night and I can’t thank the Revellers enough for all the effort they put in and for making everyone feel welcome. I look forward to next year when it will probably be held at my place.

BTW we came a respectable fifth.

 

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I hope the forecasters are right

I received a phone call from my bank the other evening asking if I had attempted to purchase 2 tickets to Zimbawe on my credit card. I said no and after a lot of questions and dialogue we established that my credit card had been hacked and hijacked. A letter from my credit card company was in a similar vein and then another bank contacted me to ask if I has used internet banking recently. It seems my computer was hijacked and most of my details were being fraudulently used by persons unknown. I have not lost anything as it appears most of the attempted purchases were so out of character that my banks stopped the cards immediately.

I have spent two weeks setting up my new accounts with new passwords and new pin numbers. Although irritating it was not as maddening as having to flatten my computer and perform a complete software rebuild and installing resource hogging new anti virus software. In retrospect I am lucky I have suffered no financial loss but it makes me wonder how many other things have been hijacked. Some of my email accounts have certainly been hijacked and i have stopped using them. I hope this expains the lack of posts in the last two weeks. My computer was down and out!!

Although the clocks have gone forward the weather has not warmed up at all. Some seedlings that I placed in the greenhouse four weeks ago have still not germinated and show no signs of doing so. Of those that have germinated, a measly two cucumber plants, five radish and one lettuce have poked their heads through the compost. I will probably end up going to the garden centre to purchase ready grown seedlings of broad beans and peas etc. I can count my blessings I am not relying on this stuff for survival. I think we have established I am no Alan Titchmarsh.

The weekend gone, the first bank holiday of the season, saw us at Ted Magnums for a spring soiree and social get together. As usual I got there early and all went swimmingly well until Ted produced several 8 pint flagons of home made wine. The resulting blackouts and mass amnesia was truly staggering. I felt sorry for one lad who only called in for a few minutes because he was going to a wedding. After an hour he keeled over and was put to bed. Some time later his wife arrived to ask where he was and when told, started to develop scales and breathe fire. Most people backed off and hid in the garden until she had gone. As it was I was almost the last to leave and BC got me home, with some difficulty apparently, and in bed by 11pm. All in all it was a marvellous event and it reminded me of why I stopped making my own wine some years ago. The stuff is ruthless, extremely cheap and very quick to produce.

On a bright note the weather forecast for this summer is excellent. I hope so after the last two truly dismal summers we have had. Combined with the credit crunch the effect has been truly spirit crushing. I dont ever remember seeing so many people who are depressed. Whilst I dont feel as bad as others I have met I really feel lethargic and everything seems like such an effort. A good few days of sunshine would change everything. It would certainly enable me to get lawn mower out and cut the grass, it might even persuade my seedlings to put a spurt of growth on and poke their heads out into the open. I hope the forecasters are right.

 

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Roll on the camping season

Its that time of the year when the MOT is due. I am fairly certain that with the amount of goodies and new parts Rhonda will fly through the examination. A new battery was purchased just a couple of days ago from the local chariot repair shop. What should have been a fairly simple job was not. I rang Ram Riotts to ask if they had a battery for my model of bike and they said yes. I went down and picked it up and brought the said battery home. I must admit I did have my reservations when I saw the size of the box but I felt certain the qualified mechanics and salesmen at the shop knew what they were talking about. How wrong can you be? The battery was far too big and would not physically fit into the battery bay on the bike. I returned with both the new for comparison and the old battery and although it was replaced they refused to take the old battery away. I decided there and then I would not use that shop any longer.

I then started thinking about waterproof clothing. The jacket I have has a waterproof membrane inside the coat. All well and good you would think but it means that the exterior of the jacket will be completely sodden before the membrane stops the water from getting to me. Plus the amount of time it will take to dry out a heavy jacket will be be completely useless for a camping expedition or any touring. Now you would think that any waterproof clothing would be high visibility and brightly coloured to say the least or so I thought. A trawl through internet returned only dark clothing in black or dark blue. You would think in a time of low visibility ie bad weather at the time you would need to be most visible that protective clothing would be at their most vivid and eye catching colours but apparently not. Peter Storm and Regatta offer weather proof clothes but again all dark, it makes you wonder about hikers and fell walkers wondering about in mist. Surely I cant be the only person to think about this can I?

A sheep skin arrived and BC has been sewing straps onto it to make it fit the seat. It does feel comfortable and I am looking forward to taking the bike out for a long trip to test out the padding abilities of the new seat cover. God alone knows how long that will take to dry out if it rains heavily. Then again I could plastic bin bags over it. How slippy that would be is any ones guess. Roll on the camping season!

 

Posted on

Suicidal sheep and thrombosis

A set of tank panniers arrived the other day. Well not exactly, they are gas mask bags. SR10’s to be exact but they fit over the tank like a dream and should be capable of distributing the weight of my luggage more evenly. I have now spent as much as I am going to on the machine and the equipment that will accompany me to any part of the globe I should desire to travel to. With this in mind me and BC decided to head off to the Lake District. There were two reasons for wanting to go there. Firstly the scenery and the roads and secondly the fact there is a Rohan outlet there. I wanted to check out some of the ultra lightweight clothing they stock and decide if it really was worth spending so much on travel clothes.

BC has never travelled so far on a motorbike before and It is a long time since I have travelled that distance on such a heavy bike two up. I decided it would be a good test for the pair of us before we set off to Devon in a few weeks. BC loaded up the satnav, (I have long since give up trying to make head or tail of the infernal thing), and we set off. Halfway down the M6 we stopped for a quick cuppa and a rest break and after resuming we arrived in Ambleside some 2 hours later. The petrol consumption seems to have vastly improved since the service. After a quick look in the Rohan store we set off to find some of the roads that make this part of the world so scenic.

We managed to find the Kirkstone Pass and rode up and over it stopping at Patterdale for another rest stop. The pass is an amazing road only marred by suicidal sheep, manic goats and jaywalking ramblers. I almost filled my trousers on more than one occasion. On another, the satnav directed me down a very steep unfinished road into a farmyard. Turning around and trying to get back onto the main road saw the bike sliding backwards as I tried to hold the machine on a 3 in 1 incline to safely rejoin the main road. As the bike started to topple sideways I managed to find the strength to hold it upright and popped it into first gear and revved like a boy racer in attempt to get the tyres to grip the surface. BC later told me the only thing that stopped her from screaming was the fact she did not want to panic me any more than I already was!

I tried to find two other roads but the satnav refused to accept the fact that they existed when I knew they did. BC stopped me from throwing the satnav into a lake and we headed home. At this point one thing was becoming painfully obvious. The seat is crap. There are two ridges that run down the sides of the seat and they cut off the circulation to my legs. A new seat is financially out of the question and although a sheepskin will cure this problem it is only a short term cure as any rain will leave me sitting in a sodden mess and probably not of my making.

We are going back to the lakes in a few weeks on a camping expedition and I hope to be able to purchase a sheepskin as short term fix to the problem. I hope to be able to find the Hardknot pass and Wrystone pass providing I am not stopped by suicidal sheep and thrombosis.