Billy Wong, a long time fan of Easy Rider, thought that he had managed to put on hold his wife Suzie’s plea to trade in his motor cycle for a new 4×4. Even the arrival of the new baby, Fatty Wong had done nothing to change his mind. Instead, he invented the motor cycle Bucket Seat and now had dreams of becoming one of China’s new fast growing band of seriously rich executives. Continue reading “The Bucket Seat.”
Last time the local cycle club ran a taster session no one new turned up. The weather was to blame. It was arranged for a few weeks back, and was the same day as my mosaics course (which was my excuse for not being there) – but it was also the day that Oxfordshire had a complete downpour of heavy heavy rain.
So this Saturday I was honour bound to turn up for the next taster session, despite the fact it was the day after an exhaustingly enjoyable trip to the Chelsea Flower Show, followed that evening by hosting a dinner party for 10 (and having maybe one more drink that was advisable for an early-ish start.)
Thing is that the clubs rides normally start at 9am and we had a 6 mile ride to get there, so the alarm was duly set and zombie fashion I got up, donned Lycra, rehydrated and breakfasted.
It was only as we drew up to the station (meeting point) that Cycloman groaned. Continue reading “Taster”
You know how it is when stuff is free. It feels mean not to avail yourself. People have gone to a lot of trouble and it would be rude to refuse.
It was our first all-inclusive hol and there were drinks, all the food you could want and free watersports. Well, obviously booze and swimming don’t mix. Neither do food and swimming for that matter so that was mostly for the evening.
I’m not one of those “alarm clock” sunbathers who turn themselves regularly beneath the roasting Caribbean sun to create that lovely mahogany tan so beloved of Peter Stringfellow which will inevitably turn into briefcase leather at around 65 years old. Continue reading “Windsurfing”
‘The Blandford fly The Blandford fly (sometimes called blackfly) is found in east Anglia, Oxfordshire and Dorset.
Blandford fly bites are common during May and June, and are very painful, frequently occurring on the legs. They can produce a severe, localised reaction, with symptoms including oedema (itchy, pale pink, or red, swellings), blistering, fever, and joint pain.‘ Information here. The bites seem often to become infected. Continue reading “Blandford Biter”
Technically it was a delivery run and not intended as a vacation, which would require an even longer and more boring post (want to see some holiday snaps?).
For those of you who missed the whole thing you can read all about it here or not as you wish.
The trip started at mile 803 of the ICW at Palm Coast, Florida and ended 199 miles north of mile zero (Norfolk, VA) at the boat’s new home. Total distance from the charts 1002 nautical miles, and allowing another 40 nm for deviations to find overnight anchorages the distance traveled was around 1040 nm or 1200 statute miles. (well I did warn you this would be boring).
Continue reading “A terminally boring post on the minutiae of a long boat trip”
Cape Fear, the name is enough to scare you, why call it that unless someone was really scared by it, anyway we have to get around it to head north so off we go.
It was a nothing, the sea was almost calm and the wind and tide were both with us, about two hours in open water and then back into “The Ditch”
Continue reading “Fear This?”
A charlatan I know swears that you don’t need to pay parking tickets. He claims that he receives tickets all the time and ignores them. The costs on taking him to court are not worth the council’s time, he says and adds that loopholes in legislation should be exploited. I disagree with him as without law and order there would be chaos and uprising followed by a resumption of law again so what’s the point in revolution.
My principles were tested to the full yesterday when a driver parked on the zig-zag lines at a traffic crossing. Immediately, I swung into my assumed character as an off-duty Traffic Warden and the only thing stopping me from rebuking the errant driver was his mode of transport: it was a tractor. Continue reading “Chrome-wheeled, fuel-injected…Born to Stroll”