Something about rowing..?: August 2011

Arghhhhhhhhh it's been a month since my last post. I am truly made of fail on the "updating lots" front. Sorry. Please forgive me internet-land!

So yes, pitchforks. WELL, my parents are currently doing up a cottage in the middle of the Peak District and I have naturally been drafted in to help (i.e. heavy lifting, tearing down fitted wardrobes with a fucking crowbar, inhaling my own body weight in plaster removing tiles from the bathroom*, that sort of thing). The bonus is that I get to go cycling round Derbyshire which is muchos more interesting than the same boring roads I've been stuck on at home.

*If anyone ever asks you to do this FFS find an excuse quick. It's an awful, awful job. Getting hit in the face with flying shards of ceramic is NOT. FUN.

One thing I've noticed though:

Cambridge = flat as.
West Midlands = pretty flat.
Derbyshire = oh SHIT they have hills here!

Yeahhhhhhhhhh fucking hell I am not used to gradients. Wind, yes. Roads that suddenly rear up in front of me, no. WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS MADNESS? WHY IS IT NOT FLAT AS THE EYE CAN SEE WITH A MASSIVE FUCK-OFF HEADWIND ALL THE FUCKING TIME AND LOADS OF SUGAR BEET FIELDS? Oh yes. Not in East Anglia any more. Right.

At least we can count on this being a constant around the country. *Sigh*

But yes anyway. Said cottage had a shed and in said shed was a huge amount of old gardening stuff. And there, right at the back was The Pitchfork.

I could now participate in 16th century riots and witchhunts and stuff! Woo!

They say that small things amuse small minds and this was certainly the case as I enjoyed a fair few hours moving one pile of dead plants to another with what I thought was infinite grace and finesse.

Building a massive pile of dead nettles was never so fun.

In other less gardening related news the crappy saddle on my bike finally bit the dust and started, quite literally, eating my lycra.

Oww oww oww oww oww.

A new one was going to have to be got. (Good sentence construction anyone?) I ended up doing a very bad thing and spending £100 on this:

I will attempt to justify this extravagant purchase to you (and myself) thus:

If I look after it, it'll last a good 30 years or so.
Brooks are a good old British company (and this was made just down the road in Smethwick).
Over time it moulds to the shape of your ass. Mmmm comfy.
LOOK HOW FUCKING BEAUTIFUL IT IS. Just look at it! It's all leathery and shiny and just beautiful.

Bike now pimped :-)

Now, there are a lot of horror stories out there on the internet about how these saddles, in essence, rip you in two while you're breaking them in and therefore many differences in opinion on how good these saddles are.

First test ride, I was scared. Scared that I'd be walking like this for days afterwards:

Have I just spend £100 for the worst saddle soreness in history?

Thankfully I seem to have a Brooks saddle-shaped ass and all was rosey and shiny and full of unicorns and I gaily skipped through a field full of flowers after my new pimped out bike's maiden voyage.

In short, I'm really really impressed with it. Definitely worth £100 and I highly recommend it.

(Yeah, this is a bit of a cycling-centric post, sorry.)

The hilarious upshoot of spending the summer cycling after spring rowing is that you get fucking ridiculous tanlines overlayed on top of each other.

Pasty white one piece mark + slightly tanned stripe around the legs with t-shirt marks round the arms? Priceless. It takes effort to look that retarded, it really does :-)

Now, because everyone loves cute stuff, I'll finish with the news that our wire fox terrier at home has had puppies. They are now about 4 weeks old (?) and do stupidly cute stuff like sneezing and then falling over, barking at windows and being suddenly interested in nothing in particular.