Sunday 5 March 2017

Sunday Catch Up.

It's a good drying day today (crikey... I sound like my dear old Nan) and as I'm now single and therefore not in possession of one of those magic baskets that you dump your smellies in, only for them to reappear in the airing cupboard fresh and clean a few days later, I have to do all my washing myself. So while the washing machine is doing its thing, I might as well lob a few photos up from this past week's rather windblown ganderflanking jaunts.

To be honest, there isn't a lot to report, but that never stopped our local paper, so here goes.

Tuesday saw me donning the over trousers and heading out on the Voodoo again for a trip around the usual loops. These regular rides on oh so familiar roads still serve several purposes - keeping up with exercise and therefore helping shed the Christmas waistline I seem to have acquired, (having IBS makes me look and feel like I've swallowed a Spacehopper at the best of times, I don't want to put on weight and add to the bloated look) helping to sort my head out, getting fresh air (lots of that hurtling about lately) and also exercising the old creative side and taking some photos. Well that last bit is the hardest round these lanes as they've been photographed more times than a Government Minister recently caught rogering a farm animal. 




If in doubt, get the GoPro out is my motto at such times of photographic inspirational failure, so being unable to think of fresh photographic ideas ahead of setting off, I bunged the GoPro on the Voodoo's crossbar and headed off down Tregassow Lane once more, hopeful that if all else fails, I at least would have something to show the photo a ride Flickr group I'm on.



As it was, I was soon fetching the compact out of my bum bag but the photos were pretty ordinary. The usual stuff from me then.


 Celandine adding to the increasing amount of colour appearing out and about now - Spring is definitely under way!

 Primroses too. You have to feel sorry for these early flowers, popping up after the long winter, only to get flattened by the wind like lots of the Daffs round here, or splattered by road snot like here. If I were a flower right now, I'd stick my head up and look about a bit before deciding to hit the snooze button and giving it another couple of weeks.

I feel a strongly worded email coming on...

What did annoy me though was finding a couple of dozen or so Next catalogues dumped on the verge, most still in their plastic wrapping. I can only imagine someone was tasked with dumping them in the proper manner, but instead, that someone decided to save time, effort and possibly money, and just chuck them out in a lane somewhere. I'm still considering informing Next of this act so they can send someone out to come and pick them up again. I think I may go back and see if they're still there - if they are I can see me coming over all Victor Meldrew and firing off a moaning email along with photographic evidence. Yup, I've become one of those interfering old busy bodies that I so despised when I was considerably younger. It's my age though, not long now and I'll be smelling of mothballs and wee, having strip washes in the kitchen instead of the perfectly good bathroom (why did Granddads do that?) and taking delivery of my tartan shopping trolley.


Woo look at those... It's got be the red though, don't you think? I like the bar at the front for parking it in the middle of the aisle on the bus... you could bruise a good number of ankles with that bar as well...

Well that was Tuesday. Thursday was set to offer a dry and sunny day, still with a lively wind though, but a perfect day to go a bimbling. 

Deciding which bike to take is sometimes an issue for me, and I'm sure I'm not alone in that. But seeing as the ride I had in mind would be all on tarmac, I thought I'd give the Jamis a chance to redeem itself after the aggro it caused me last time out.

I'd given it a thorough clean after that ill fated ride, and inspected the chain and sprockets for damage caused by the chain jamming down in the frame, and my half arsed and increasingly desperate attempts to fish it out again. All was tickety boo as far as I could see, and a thorough test of the gears in the maintenance stand shed no light on why the chain had come off in the first place - just one of those things I suppose. 
Riding it again would give my confidence a boost too, as long as the flipping chain stayed where it should that is - I knew I'd be clenching my buttocks every time I shifted onto the front granny ring in case it hurled itself off again. So having given the Jamis a stern pre-ride talking to, reminding it of its contractual obligations and the general level of behaviour I expect of my bikes (don't p**s me off!), I set off into the sunshine daringly devoid of the waterproof trousers that have become an un-needed feature of my rides lately. I don't take risks as a rule, buying green Bananas, given my advancing years, is about as big a gamble as I like to take, so to head out without even putting over trousers in the Jamis's almost capacious panniers is really strangely courageous of me, and also an alarmingly optimistic show of faith in the 'dry' forecast too.



 I do love the trees at this time of year, shorn of their leafage (is that a word? Who cares anyway...) you can see them in all their gnarly, knobbly, grizzled glory. It's quite fascinating sometimes just to study all the branches and how they have grown, shaped by the sun, wind, and each other over the years.

The Jamis on a bridge over a stream on the road to Ladock. I've looked, but can't find any name mentioned for the stream, or indeed the location where this photo was taken, despite there being a few houses nearby. What address do they give out I wonder?


 Well here we go again, another blurry upload by the look of it... Grrr.... Those are Ladock Woods on the horizon, with the road ahead following the line of different trees along the forward edge.

I don't know anything about tractors, but by crikey these John Deeres sound properly pukka. Straight six engines apparently, and they growl along very nicely.

Thankfully, both the Jamis, and the weather, behaved themselves, and an enjoyable ride around one of my extended loops was had. In fact, to top it off, my run of good luck with the weather continued, as once again I stepped out of the post ride shower to the sound of (presumably dry) rain battering the bathroom window. What a jammy git I am these days!


 Bozzing along and enjoying the ride. Those are miles an hour on the speedo by the way, none of those funny money kilowotsname things here.

Random shot passing through a sunny farm yard at Trendeal.

By crikey... Google photos - uploading and generally organising them is a proper kerfuffle... Who the hell came up with all this and thought it a good way of doing things? It's a right dog's breakfast and no mistake. What a lash up.
Hoi! Google peeps! Less time playing on the swings in the 'on trend, hip and cool' office romper rooms and a bit more effort shown in the way your tools work please! 

There, that told 'em.

Right, where am I up to now? Oh right, Saturday, yesterday. Yup, a good week for riding this one was, as I plotted a third bimble, despite a less than cosseting weather forecast.

No risk taking this time, I seriously doubted I could complete even a short ride without getting utterly wet, given what was happening outside Back Road Bimbles HQ as I was supping my coffee. In between the lashing showers though were sunny intervals, so it wasn't a bad day out truth be told.

Right, a big pile of photos coming up...


 Did I just say it wasn't a bad day outside? Strewth, look at that belligerent looking sky...

Yup, it's wet out, but just cast off, set sail and it'll be alright...


 The Gopro of course comes in handy as an ordinary camera to use when it's raining and the bigger toys aren't allowed out.


 A lull in the rain did allow the compact to get in on the act though. 
Much snottiness in Tregassow Lane, and another fuzzy photo upload.



Someone has used something to scrape away the banks either side of the lane here. No idea why mind, but maybe instead it was a wide vehicle caught in a sat nav fail... A car transporter complete with a load of Audis once tried to get along this lane after all...

Back on the Voodoo again and back to wearing over trollies. I'm going to need a new pair of waterproof strides though, as mounting up I caught the low hanging crotch on the nose of the saddle and ripped a hole in my leggings right where I really don't want a hole, the bit between my bum and Big Jim and the Twins, whatever that is called. Most uncomfortable getting wet there. Would I suffer a wet whatever though? Would my run of luck continue even though the odds were clearly stacked against it? No was the answer to the latter, and yes to the former, although it was close - another ten minutes and I'd have been home again complete with a dry whatever. But no, it wasn't to be, and I it rained on me, if only briefly, about a mile from sanctuary. Rather than battle the elements though, I stopped and poked about the small wood I was conveniently passing when the deluge hit. Well I say poked about, I didn't venture more than a couple of feet inside where the boundary wall collapsed at some point in the past. This wood is privately owned and I'm not up for trespassing as a rule. Well, not that close to home anyway...


My luck ran out good and proper here. I'd had light rain - spits and spots, most of the way round but when nearly home and just passing through this wooded section it slapped it down. Ditch to the left of the hedge, pop up pond in the woods to the right. 

Strewth... flipping Google Photos... now where has my latest upload gone? Closing the whole programme then reloading it seems to be the only way of finding the latest photo uploaded sometimes. I must be doing something wrong, it can't be that bad, can it, really?

Ah now my washing machine is finished, and without burning the house down. Always a bonus that, and always a possibility given the frequency of laundry machinery related fires these days - washing machines/washer dryers/tumble dryers, they're all bursting into flames with great venom lately. I never knew doing the laundry was so dangerous...

So three enjoyable, but also rather unexciting, rides then. It was still great being out and about in the countryside and all that comes with it though.

Nothing else to write about comes to mind, other than the great Disc Brake debate in racing has reared its head again after another rider has claimed he's been injured by a disc. The wuss. That's at least the second one in a year, just what the hell are these geezers doing to keep getting injured by their brakes? I don't know of anyone, in 'real life' or online, who has said they have received an injury from a disc brake, not even a burn, although I could see that could happen, but then again, so what if it did? These blokes go hooning about in their vest and shorts, riding lightweight bikes balanced on tyres as wide as the cock on a chocolate mouse, and equipped with whizzing, whirring, spokes, chains and sprockets to trap fingers in, as well as blunt handlebar ends and seats to knock teeth out on, and nice abrasive tarmac to slide along removing vast acres of skin in the process. It beats me what they're moaning about it really does. Stay home and play Dominoes or something if you're that worried. Bunch of big gurl's blouses these pros...

Mind you, they're not the only ones needing to think before opening their mouths. I see that Giant bikes in Australia have had to issue a recall on all mountain bikes with bars more than 700mm wide, and I expect other makers will have to do likewise, as they are technically illegal, being deemed to be a bit dangerous. Single chain ring drive trains are also deemed unacceptable as there is no element of chain guard style protection from a front derailleur. Aussie blokes are born wearing shorts aren't they? What the hell is that all about?
You live in a country with gert big hairy arsed spiders that could kill a horse living under your dunny seat, Crocodiles in your ponds, flipping great Sharks waiting to grab you as soon as you go paddling in the sea, as well as Possums pissing on your head and five foot high bouncing mice that want to pick fights with you, but the handlebars are 20 mm too wide on your bike... "Are you bloody stupid mate? Don't you know how dangerous those bloody bars are you bloody Drongo?" 

Bonkers. The world is going bonkers.

Right, I'm waffling, time to go and... Where the bloody hell has my last photo upload gone now... Last week half of the Blogger back end went awol... Google are really ripping my knitting at the moment... Another stiffly worded email on the horizon I think...

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