Tuesday, 6 November 2012

Hurty Wrist Fans...I Have News & More Pics!!!

It's been nearly two weeks since the good lady surgeon Sweeney Todd sliced and diced my broken appendage. It was time then for a return visit to the Fracture Clinic on the promise of more growing old slowly in reception. I started my journey with what I thought was ample time to make the short bus trip up the road to the hospital. What I hadn't bargained on was the near Biblical traffic jam on the A6. I was convinced that the non-movingness could only have been caused by something which would make everyone in Stockport simaltaneously jump into their cars. I pondered what it might be and the openning of a MegaPoundShop with free hog roast, beer and bouncy castle for the kids where the Stone Roses were putting on a free gig leapt to mind, but it turns out the council are just fannying around with the road near Stepping Hill. I've seen evolution move faster. 
Amazingly, I arrived only a few minutes late. I've just no idea why it mattered so much for me to be there on time. I knew what was coming and I'd brought my travel pillow, ration pack, a change of clothes and the complete works of Tolstoy in readiness. Actually it was more browniness but it doesn't matter, I was here for the long haul and sure enough the NHS didn't disappoint. 
To maximise the experience, the reception is a complete wifi dead spot. Surfing the t'internet was painfully slow but I'd downloaded several games to keep me amused and sure enough the first forty minutes just flew by. 
On minute number forty one I was summoned by one of the old deers behind the desk. At last, progress! alas, not. She ordered me to the X-ray reception with 'a note' and a smile that made Stalin look like Ronald McDonald. I was looking down her half moon barrels at yet another yawn fest but I didn't mind, it was a change of scenery.
I wandered up the corridor and passed over my note. After confirming my name, rank, and serial number I parked my arse on yet another fart stained piece of moulded plastic the NHS call 'a chair'. Surprisingly I didn't have to wait too long before my name was called, but don't worry, there was enough time for Commandant Deirdre to mandate my mobile be changed to a not-on position. Cow. 
After I was zapped I was dispatched back to the Fracture Clinic reception for more waiting where the phone went straight back on and the ether evaporated faster. Eventually it was something resembling my name that was belted out across reception in the key of bored flat. We were knocking on an hour and twenty but this was now my time with what appeared to be the only actual professional in the hospital that day. It was time to go into one of the little rooms and see what damage had been undone. The X-rays came up on the screen and with my good hand I began snapping pics left, right and centre and then left again because the flash wasn't on.
As the images were explained, a nurse began to cut off the old plaster. The operation had in fact gone perfectly,(dear diary), and all looked good. The screw holding my scaphoid together was doing its job.

Now available at ScrewFix

One other injury I wasn't fully aware of was the acute perilunate dislocation variant. The fix for this and my wayward radius is the insertion of two metal rawplug people. I have named them Bert and Ernie. 
Can you tell me how to get to Seaseme Street?

When the plaster came off I noticed that my wrist had shrunk in diameter. This freaked me out somewhat but apparently if you don't use something at all for three weeks it gets smaller. This is a generic statement that applies to every part of me.

Chick! Please form an orderly digging queue.
After my five minutes were up I returned to reception to get a new plaster. By this time I was the only person left but I still had to take a ticket and wait my turn for the plasterer. It seemed a bit frivolous but I'm not one to break protocol, (just bones). I still had to wait but the end to this visit was finally in sight. My plaster master was a guy called Tony. He was judge gypsum - the dressing director. We got yapping and I asked him how many casts he'd made. He stopped trying to work it out when he got to 170,000. Now that's job satisfaction.....or just mental, I haven't quite worked it out. Either way, he'd clearly done this before. 
                                         Behold!.....I wish I could!!
After encasing me for my third time in as many weeks I was free to leave. In four weeks I would be back to have it off with power tools, (sorry for the mental image), how exciting! What wasn't exciting was the journey home. The traffic was still jammed. I've seen tectonic plates shift quicker. Fortunately I did get home where apon the family atteneded to me with benevolence and compassion. They put up a brave front by pretending absolutely nothing important had just happened. That must have been hard for them. The kids knew that a sense of normality and familiarity would relax me and with that in mind jumped on me with the same gusto and vigor as if my arm wasn't in plaster at all. Sometimes I think they care too much. 

To be cont'd.....in four weeks.

Friday, 26 October 2012

That's me screwed.

Until 11am yesterday I had a closed intra-articular fracture of the distal radius AND a fracture of the proximal scaphoid. I also had the pics to prove it. Today I've got a really hurty arm with a headless titanium screw in it. The fun began at 7:30am yesterday when I was admitted to the ward for people that can't ride mountain bikes properly.

A room with a view.

I was third on the list so I had a wait before 'Operation Frankenstein-hand' began. I was nil-by-mouth which was the nurses way of telling me to shut up. However, I was allowed to put in a food order for post-op. I asked for sausage, beans, chips, fried bread and a mug-o-tea five sugars when ya ready daaaaarling. Nurse Laura said that they were all out of everything, otherwise that would have been fine. All she had left was toast and some brown stuff that resembled tea or coffee, she wasn't sure. The food though would have to wait until well after I'd been cut-n-shut and even more after all the form filling. 
Nurse after nurse, doctor after doctor and even the hand job surgeon wanted to yap about the procedure and more importantly  me. They can't have all fancied me....could they? Even the nice lady surgeon freely admitted I had "acute scaphoid". Some of the questions asked were very repetitive and my answers might have gone a tad off topic as my eagerness to crack on with proceedings grew.

"Any allergies?", "hard work"
"When did you eat last?", "are you asking me out?"
"How many units of alcohol do you drink?", "I'm a Lambrini girl, I just wanna have fun"
"Any hearing aids?", "pardon!" (yes, even doctors still fall for this one)
"Any caps?", "yeh they keep my head warm"
"....or crowns?", "you may call me king!"
"Any piercings?", "kinky!"
"Have you got any internal metalwork?", this was my favourite question by a long way and the answer required a thick monotone Austrian accent, "are you Sarah Connor?"

The silliest part was having an arrow drawn on the arm which was to have the surgery. You'd have thought the whacking great back slab paster cast from A&E might have been a clue but it's probably best to make sure. 
This'll be the arm then!

This seasons must have fashion in short stay surgery is a white patterned strappy backless number with white trim ....

.....and unmatching disposable slippers in a variety of colours from brownish landlord magnolia to landlord magnolia with a hint of brown. Anything else was the models own.

Three and a half hours of nothing but aircon noise and no kids just flew by. It was like heaven and I'd forgotten what it was like to be bored.

 Mr.Spock are you listening to me??
.............I'm all ears captain.

 Then came time for a quick wee and into pre-op for yet more questions and some proper drugs. I was wired up and joking away with a BPM in the low seventies.
"Those blue caps and green gowns, you can't all think they're fashionable?" I chirped. Knocker-outer lady had heard enough, I didn't even see her stick the sleepy stuff in. Either way, next thing I know it's an hour and twenty minutes later and my wrist is a tad sore despite the fact that I still had a fair bit of paracetamol  neurophen, morphine and 'general' still circulating inside me. Nurse Laura made good her promise of toast and hot brown liquid. I even got biccies which are only reserved for really brave soldiers. By the time I'd come round a bit more it was early afternoon and time to go home.  
Ooh this stings a bit...even on morphine!

The conveniently named Dr. Late-Twenties-Iranian-Possibly-Turkish-but-Quite-Fit had already prescribed some drugs to take home, which was nice. I added her to the list of admirers. Wifecabs arrived shortly after to take me and my codeine stash home but I'm not done with the NHS just yet..oh no! I'm back in a couple of weeks to the fracture clinic for more endless waiting around with the old, fat and broken. If robo-hand doesn't take then there's talk of bone grafts. How exciting! The cast comes off in six weeks but there's no more biking until FEBRUARY 2013.

To be continued.....but let's hope NOT

Friday, 19 October 2012

Too Extreme For His Own Body.

It started off like any other Hayfield Hub ride with a prompt 7:30pm start, and by 7:30 I mean 7:45, and by start I mean general mince around waiting for someone to take the lead and purpose a route. One man did come to the fore and suggest a route so bonkers that it just might work. A route that consisted of nothing but 'up'. Even the downhill sections were up. If you weren't going up then you were stationary, it was as simple as that. 
The author of such a ridiculous adventure was Ben and like cows to the slaughter house we blindly followed Ben on his "Chinley Double". We totalled nine in number and also in total. Nine just happened to be the temperature in the car park. 
Coincidence!!!.... probably.
Despite the fact it wasn't raining, rivers of water were still draining off the hills. Water was everywhere and even the dry bits were wet. Waterproofs and mudguards were second only to webbed feet and gills. You could say, it was wet. 
Ben's journey was the illegitimate love child of Niagara Falls and Mount Everest and after nearly two hours, one rider decided to speak up. That rider shall simply be known as Ross for that was his name.
Naivety, stupidity and a mild case of trench foot led Ross to suggest a diversion. Driven on by the club moto "stultus ideae sunt bonum" Ross suggested we do 'The Campsite Run'. This idea was dangerous! For starters it was not 'up' and that would mean pedaless motion. This was a move which would surely anger the clammy and moist gods. Their revenge for such a brazen act would be cold and sweaty. However, any sort of detour off a cold wet peak at that time was as appealing as a curry when you're pissed and therefore could not be avoided.

We headed for the Campsite Run and one by one we began going 'down' for the first time all night. I started my descent and picked up speed. I had only built my bike the previous night but it was going superbly. It relished the bumps like a five year old on a bouncy castle until at a critical point I choose the wrong line and disaster struck!
Maybe I got carried away, maybe I'm just too awesome for my own good but I was drawn by siren calls into a rut that been carved out by the rain. With too much speed I instantly knew what was coming. In a scene resembling that bit in Star Wars where an X-wing crashes in a Death Star gulley, I clipped the side and then hit a largish rock which was illuminated with every one of the one thousand lumen's streaming from my light. With no chance to pull up I was ejected over the bars and I remember the rocky ground speeding towards my precious face at an alarming rate.
With my arms slightly bent and supermaned out in front of me, I waited microseconds for the initial ooohhhffff and following tumble to a stop.
Once my motions had halted I knew I'd hurt myself. My wrist tingled a fair bit but I was sure it was just a scratch, a hair stretch at most! The troops behind stopped to pick me up and we were massively comforted in the knowledge that there wasn't a scratch on the bike. Whoever had built such a steed had done a first class job and is available for other bike building/restoration opportunities at competitive rates.

As we rode the final mile or so back to the car park Ben hung back to keep me company and also to remind me in graphic detail that it clearly wasn't his fault in any way. Ross was to blame and maybe a call to the ambulance-chasers was worth a punt on the clear proviso that his testimony would only cost 50% of any compo.
Once back at the car park I managed to get everything loaded and drive home with what can only be described as a hurty wrist. The next day was fine. Rattling with ibuprofen I completed a full day at work with only a slight glimpse of non-man like behaviour. As the afternoon drew on a swelling appeared on my hurty wrist which was turning some interesting shades of black and purple. 
I decided that no good could come from having a 'goth arm' and that I should probably get it looked at. A quick pootle up to A&E was in order but only once I'd had tea. 
At A&E reception I checked in and received my first of five "ooooh that looks nasty" from the medical professionals. After only about ten minutes of EastEnders on the TV in reception I was suicidal but the triage nurse rescued me and called me into her room. "Ooooooh that looks nasty" was how she greeted me "would you like some drugs?". The NHS is awesome I thought but it turned out to be some more ibuprofen. Once assessed I returned to the reception and its dismal TV soap scheduling.
The next two hours waiting for a doctor just flew by with the help of some improvised games like 'guess the illness'. The woman opposite clearly had problems 'downstairs' and I surmised that she had got a case of the clap from a chance liaison with her boss on the promise of future promotion. She was from that point on known as 'Dirty Cow'. The man behind her with the grimace on his face every time he moved I nicknamed 'Something Up His Anus'. Doctor House has nothing on me!
After finally seeing a doctor, some more 'oooohhh that looks nasty's and yet more waiting in X-ray and reception the conclusion was that I had in fact hurt my wrist. They really don't miss a trick up at A&E. After an extended gander at the X-rays it was highly probable that the Grand Canyon sized crack in my scaphoid and the free floating bone bit near my Radius probably meant it was broken.....or something. 

A back slab cast was made while a visit to the 'Fracture Clinic' was requested for the next day. I never did find out what happen to Dirty Cow and Something Up His Anus but here's a pic of me finally leaving A&E.

My appointment the next day was for 9:40am so naturally that meant 10:28am. Fracture Clinic is a strange place. It was rammed with the really old and the really fat and the really old AND fat. I had a whole demographic all to myself which was nice. 
When I eventually saw a doctor he took one look and referred me to the hand specialist type person. My scaphoid had broken near the bottom and was going to need some metalwork to hold it together. A date was made for next week, blimey I thought, that was quick for the NHS. I made a mental note for the future to only require hand surgery on a Thursday as this is clearly the day when decisions are made. 
A minion from trauma was dispatched to read out some do's and don'ts although I spent a large portion of the time asking to borrow the life sized skeleton behind them for Halloween. I was politely told to get stuffed, someone from cardiology had already put dibs on it. Dammit! So close! 
I have no idea when I'll be back on a bike again but here's how it looks now.....

......and here's an artists impression of what I'll look like after hand surgery. 

To be continued.....

Friday, 17 August 2012

A Modern Day Bible according to Dawonderful

ED1:1 In the beginning God’s wife sent him to a Scandinavian self assembly furniture store to buy the heaven and the earth.
ED1:2 And the earth was flat pack and without form, and the void that was Sunday afternoon was now filled with darkness and wrong sized hex keys. And God moved upon the face of the waters where he promptly filled the kettle.
ED1:3 And God said, Let there be coffee: and there was coffee with milk and two sugars.
ED1:4 And God drank the coffee, and it was good: and God divided the wafers from the digestives while he decided what power tools he would need from the shed.
ED1:5 And God called the light in the shed bright, and the darkness he called creepy. And God wasn’t overly keen on spiders.
ED1:6 And God said, I must sort the paint cans out, some of them are rock hard.
ED1:7 And God tidied the shed, and divided the matt paint which were under the shelf from the emulsions which were above the shelf: and it was tidy.
ED1:8 And God called the shelf sorted. And the evening would be clear to drink beer and the morning was to recover.
ED1:9 And God’s wife said, Let the useless paint tins under the shelf be gathered together unto one place, the bin, and behold the floor did appear: and it was nice to see.
ED1:10 And God called the bag of top soil Earth; and the gathering together of the white spirit he called Something to clean paint brushes with: and God saw that it was good but smelly.
ED1:11 And God said, Let the earth bring forth grass, and something to stop the birds eating the seeds. And it was sown.
ED1:12 And the earth brought forth grass, but in patches and not very even and God was slightly miffed.
ED1:13 Day three.
ED1:14 And God said, Let there be lights in the shed again. I need to check the instructions.
ED1:15 And let there be lights for the garden so as we can sit out the back when the kids have gone to sleep: and it was so.
ED1:16 And God made two great lights; the greater light to rule the porch, and the lesser light to rule the barbeque: he made some stars because they look pretty.
ED1:17 And God remembered that messing around with lights was fun but it wasn’t going to get the heaven and earth made.
ED1:18 God’s wife ruled over the day and night, and could divide the light from the dog kennel: and God pulled a finger out.
ED1:19 And the evening and the morning of the fourth day were spent bodging furniture together. God’s was happy: and it was nice to see.
ED1:20 And God said, Let waters bring forth a garden feature and possibly the odd duck.
ED1:21 And God remembered the whales and thought of a pond with some fish. Ducks love ponds. And God remembered the garden centre had a sale on: and it was good.
ED1:22 And God thought this was an ace idea. Lots of ducks would soon mean baby ducks, and God’s wife thought they were cute.
ED1:23 And the evening and the morning of the fifth day were spent seeing what the neighbours had done in their gardens and buying something even bigger.
ED1:24 And God said, Wildlife is great, even the creepy crawlies: as long as they stay outside: and it was so.
ED1:25 And God pondered some livestock. Where there were cattle, there was dung and flies and things that creepeth. It would take some looking after.
ED1:26 And God said, I must find a man who is the image of  me, with my likeness: who will have dominion over the garden when I’m too old. I need him to look after the ducks and every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth.
ED1:27 God needed to find a man in his own image, he was to be the spitting image of a younger him. He had also to find a female as the man couldn’t be trusted. With anything.
ED1:28 And God pondered what to speak unto them, One day you will need to replenish the earth, and weed it: and look after the carp in the pond and the ducks in the pond, don’t let them boss you around.
ED1:29 And God said, Behold wife, I have made a herb garden: we will never use it but it will smell nice. God also planted fruit yielding trees and trees for yielding meat. And God said, they are ham bushes: and God’s wife did not laugh.
ED1:30 And to every animal in the garden, to every duck by the pond, even some of the creepeth things, pretty much everywhere, God had created edible things: and it was awesome.
ED1:31 And God looked out the next day and saw that everything was still awesome.

ED2:1 The heavens and the earth were finally finished, and God was smug.
ED2:2 And on the seventh day God put his tools back in the shed; and he rested on the sun lounger.
ED2:3 And God blessed the day, and sanctified it a day of rest: because he was knackered.
ED2:4 Heaven and earth would be around for generations; God made the earth and the heavens and not the joker who had repointed the house.
ED2:5 And every plant would grow in the earth, and every herb but it would need watering. The LORD God had not caused it to rain upon the earth, and there was not a man to tend the ground with a hose.
ED2:6 But the clouds did gather, and watered the whole face of the ground until it was sodden and squelchy under foot.
ED2:7 And the LORD God formed shapes in the ground to create a two tier drainage effect, and into each plants nostrils he breathed the breath of life so as to make them grow.
ED2:8 And the LORD God decided to ignore his wife's southerly suggestion and plant a garden eastward in Eden; and there he put the plants in pots whom he had formed.
ED2:9 And into the ground the LORD God planted nice looking trees and trees that would bring food; the tree the wife liked also in the midst of the garden but more towards the back, and the monkey puzzle tree of good looks and evil sharp bits.
ED2:10 And a pipe from the water butt went out of Eden to water the garden; and from thence it was holed into four leaky rivers.
ED2:11 The name of the first is Pison: that is it which compasseth a bit too quickly. It shall be the first to get mold.
ED2:12 And the mold of that land is not good: there is bdellium and the onyx stone to hide it from God’s wife.
ED2:13 And the name of the second river is Gihon: the leak is much smaller and compasseth a land drier than Ethiopia.
ED2:14 And the name of the third leaky river is Hiddekel: the two tier effect which makes the water goeth like a train toward the east of Assyria. And the fourth hole made the river Euphrates.
ED2:15 And the LORD God spoke to Adam down the garden centre, and put him into the garden of Eden using pictures from is smart phone.
ED2:16 And the LORD God instructed Adam. Of every tree of the garden thou may freely eat: instead of money changing hands.
ED2:17 But of the monkey puzzle tree of good and evil, thou shalt not eat it: for in the day that thou touch it, thou shalt surely get pricked.
ED2:18 And God said, Adam should not be alone, I don’t trust him; I will keep him busy.
ED2:19 And the LORD God bought every beast for his garden, and even fowl of the air. He brought them unto Adam to see what he would call them.Whatsoever Adam called them, that was the name thereof.
ED2:20 And Adam gave names to cattle, and to the fowl, and to every beast of the garden; for Adam was a bit too keen.
ED2:21 And the LORD God caused Adam to get tired, and he slept: and he took one of his hands, and placed it in a cup of water;
ED2:22 The ribbing which the LORD God would give Adam when he woke would be good. It would be even better if women saw.
ED2:23 And Adam said, There is now a wet patch and little chance of pulling.
ED2:24 When a man leaves his father and his mother, and finds his wife: they shall not be one flesh if there is trouser damp.
ED2:25 If they were both naked, the man and his wife, and were not ashamed then possibly.

Thursday, 12 July 2012

No, I'm not dead....lazy yes...but not dead!

I know I know, it’s been like forever but I’ve been busy with stuff. Yeh you heard me, stuff! Nothing in particular, just the ongoing maintenance of the cycle fleet (which now numbers in the region of 1), the ongoing maintenance of the house and its interesting rain related water feature in the cellar, and the ongoing maintenance of the kids (the boys volume control is broken and the girls sleep mode is stuck on ‘absolute minimum’). There’s the ongoing maintenance of the car, which by the time you’ll have finished reading this will need new rear tyres and who could forget the ongoing maintenance of ongoing, which is appears to be directly proportional to alcohol intake. 

The biggest bit of nothing in particular was only flipping “Butlins” baby yeh!!! Or as people without children know it, “hell”. Butlins is a low fat version of Disneyland and it’s a darn sight cheaper as well. A family of four can stay for a week and nosh themselves silly in the all-you-can-keep-down buffet for the same price as just one EuroDisney ticket. Its clientele are the higher end of the great unwashed, M&S shoppers who know where Poundland is. To me Butlins was meat and two veg heaven with a million ways to tire the sprogs out. It is also home of the redcoats. American civil war fanatics shouldn’t get overly excited because I am in fact NOT referring to 18th century English soldiers. These redcoats are a collection of perma-grin reject air stewardesses and hugely camp failed local radio dj’s. They don’t eat, they absorb all the nutrients they need through make up and hair products. They all have an amazing affinity with children and a scarily similar I.Q. Their twee-ness is so much they could use it to cut sheet steel and you’ll be interested to know that it was a redcoat’s handshake that was used as the original template for those arcade claw grabber machines. Despite what you’re thinking though Redcoats are awesome! I’d get one for the kids to play with but then there’s all the injections, neutering, vets bills, cleaning up little piles of cheese, taking it to cabarets..etc.

The majority of the entertainment on site was completely free. The pool was epic, there’s no other word for it. Wave machines, slides, rafts, there were no end of ways to be drowned with a smile. The constant procession of shows in what was nicknamed ‘The Headache Tent’ kept the kiddies highly amused for hours. Sweetshops flanked the stage so our little angels were constantly buzzing and pinging off the brightly coloured walls. An early night was guaranteed, when it was time for their bedtime you simply stopped the sugar supply and waited for the resulting crash. Once the little banshees were tucked up in bed, either the wife or I would wander the short distance to the nearest local convenience with a shopping list consisting of two items; booze and crap to eat. To make it worse there’s a Tescos AND Morrisons just outside the gate! 

By the morning the floors were awash with empty crisp packets and chocolate wrappers while the bin was converted into an overflowing bottle bank. Those that remember last years damp-camp in Devon will be glad to know that we got away with the weather as well. Thank you karma monkeys. 

So, in summary or indeed any season I would hole fartedly recommend Butlins. 

By the way if you’re thinking of having kids I suggest a weekend at a Butlins during peak season will give you a Grand Canyon sized insight. After going you might want to consider my vasectomy blog.

Friday, 30 March 2012

Yes, you should feel honored to know me.

If CERN accelerated Awesome and Stoic to the max.
The resulting collision would look like this:

Tuesday, 6 March 2012

Bean me up Scotty!

All of you will remember from my previous bloggage I was drinking liquid veg in a vain attempt to get “healthy” and buff looking. Bikini season is closer than you think! Well, the results are in and are as thorough as a Russian election, as trust worthy as a Zimbabwean election and as disappointing boring as a UK election. I was lucky enough to get two tubs of green powder from http://www.ayurveda4life.co.uk, which would translate in to £76 of your hard earned.

If like me you’re a fan of pepper favoured cold Earl Gray without the bergamot then you’re in for a treat! If not then don’t worry you get used to the taste very quickly. One thing you should completely ignore is the appearance. I’m trying to think of the last time I saw that colour green and I keep going back to when I cleaned out the pond. Luckily I’m a strong believer in form following function so I was happy to park the aesthetics to one side. For single people seeking a drink relationship, Energised Greens is expensive but has a “great personality”. You certainly wouldn’t look at the mantle while you were stoking this fire. Here though, is where the doom and gloom ends. Carnivores, may I present to you a volcanic gas cloud full of silver linings for you to chew over.

I drank two 750ml water bottles of the stuff a day so got additional exercise walking to the toilet. The extra three pints that filled my plumbing also had the effect of stopping me from snacking and that included coffee’n’biscuits. As you all know biccies are my weakness so anything that stops them is good. Seriously, I used to live down wind of the McVities factory and had to wear a bib to catch the drool. I’d walk round mouth open wide taking large sniffs of the caramelized air. I looked like I’d fallen off a Sunshine Variety coach. With all the usual snack based sugar bereft from my diet you’d think I’d be lethargic but no. After a few days of necking the green stuff I noticed an increase in energy and alertness on a par with downing three gallons of Red Bull with an espresso chaser. After a week there was also about a half a stone of unexpected weight loss, which I attributed to having a more comprehensively flushed system. Green pooh fans today is your lucky day! There was also a slight increase in stamina. The leaner, meaner and greener me was consistently knocking time off a 25mile nighttime course I was riding. It’s hard to put a precise measurement on this as the environment insisted on changing every time I ventured out. At a guess I’d say I had between 5-10% more in the tank. Two tubs lasted a month, which is better than I thought. It doesn’t look a lot but it goes a long way, (like £5 in Poundland).

The final benefit I’m going to mention is all the salad I didn’t eat. As all Simpson fans know, “You don’t make friends with salad”.

In wintery, springy, autumny and summary:

It works but it’s pricey. I’d give it five awesomes out of ten. At half the price it would easily be 9/10.

Monday, 20 February 2012

I say bread and you say quack! I say bread…….

Ducks. They’re playing us like fools.

Ooh look at us, we’re too silly to feed ourselves even though we’ve been doing it since we were dinosaurs. Go on, flap off, you’re not fowling me! Ducks are the domesticated cats of the bird world. Both look cute in return for food, both only rock up when they want something, both don’t mix well with traffic, both taste nice (Google Goyangi-tan) and both know martial arts (cats become ninjas while swans learn wing karate). We need to wise up to these feathered freeloaders before we start having duck flaps installed. It’s time the ducks remembered our place in the food chain and learnt some manners. Think of a world where instead of trying to steathily eat sandwiches in the picnic area, you are free to put down your bread based snack for more than one second. Imagine a world where an orderly queue of geese would approach one at a time and ask for just the smallest nibble of your crust. Just enough to be going on with instead of the raucous, noisy, greedy, gobshites kicking off at a hundred decibels at the merest glimpse of a lunchbox. There’s nothing worse than a gung ho kamikaze mallard hell bent of scoffing your sarnies. To rub it in they even insist of flying in a ‘V’ formation as if to stick two fingers up at an altitude and speed where they know they’re safe. It would be lovely to take a gander without a gander on the take.

The duck stops here! You’ve crapped on my windscreen for the last time!

It’s time to fight quack in the only way how. I want everyone to order a number 42 with extra pancakes from your local Chinese every day. The excess demand will soon thin out their numbers and give them something to pond-er. The extra fat layer you’ll put on will also help keep you warm this winter. Now that’s what I call killing two birds with one stone! Except its only actually one bird and it’s not actually a stone, more like gas mark 8. Either way it smells like victory and victory smells delicious. Those afflicted with anatidaephobia, (essentially a fear of ducks) shall be given free plum sauce grenades but I reserve the right for the piss still to be taken out of you.
As an additional deterrent I want all airplanes fitted with Moulinex Food Blenders along the leading edge of their wings and in between the engines, just to make sure. Just like the RAF did in World War II, airline pilots will now paint their successes under the cockpit window. Crossed out swastikas will now be replaced with crossed out yellow duckies.
I know what you’re thinking, poor little ducks, how does he sleep at night? Very well, thanks to a goose down pillow, a goose down mattress and some goose down pyjamas and you too can enjoy such comfort with the aid of a pond, some bread and a large caliber firearm. The game is up, when ideally it needs to be in the oven alongside some seasonal veg.
Remember people, pancake day is fast approaching and this year we should all put a duck in it. It’s what Jesus would have wanted…and he was half mallard! Well how else do you explain walking on water? Exactly.

Wednesday, 18 January 2012

Diet Time…It must be the New Year!

As a rule I don’t make any rules and that includes New Years resolutions. The wife on the other hand has gone crazy health kick mental. She’s eating healthier and doing bonkers amounts of running. Quite frankly, it’s making me look bad. A wife should have more consideration for her lesser half but no, the missus wants to “be fitter” and “live longer”. It’s working too, she’s happier and losing weight like Facebook users are losing interest.
She has far too much motivation for one person and you can’t help but get caught up in her success. The chance to ride in her wind was just too tempting. Coat Tail City, here I come!
As far as diet goes, mine is pretty shocking but well balanced if you’re a carnivore. Essentially, if it moves, I’ll eat it with chips and gravy. When it comes to greens I tend to run in the other direction. By running I can also ensure I don’t get any verbal off slow moving veggies hell bent on giving us top-of-the-food-chainers a free lecture. Save your strength hippy!
But whether I like it or not I am a tiny part omnivore, which means I need to eat non-meat stuff. Annoyingly vast quantities of spuds don’t count. The better half is literally eating stuff that grows out the ground! Like plants and that, I think they’re called “vegetables”. Ain’t no way that’s going on MY plate! I mean, it’s green, like bogies but even more so. Do I look like a rabbit!?!

Fortunately there is an answer!
http://www.ayurveda4life.co.uk/ make this stuff called Energised Greens. It’s powdered veg which when mixed with water make a drink that resembles the stuff you find at the bottom of a pond that normally can only be removed with bleach and a sand blaster. That’s probably a bit harsh, some bleaches smell nice. I can condense the “How to Take” instructions into a single line; as quickly as possible and don’t let it touch the sides! Despite its appearance though it is still infinitely better than consuming the equivalent amount of daily fruit’n’veg portions. It also has the added benefit that you don’t feel like you’re depriving some poor bunnies of their food. Stick that in your lentil pipe!

which one is which again?

As for exercise, well those that know me will already know that on a mountain bike I am a laser guided, precision tuned, finely crafted athlete with unlimited strength and endurance…..in my head. The green stuff is designed to make me go even faster! This slightly alarming prospect is actually quite appealing, as I tend to go towards things that scare me a little. That particular behavioral trait would certainly explain the whole night riding thing, my vasectomy adventure and the people I associate with. My friends list on Facebook for example is like a who’s who of the weird, disturbed and wonderfully mental. I’ve set myself a weekly mileage target which would embarrass airline pilots and ride times which can be used to track my progress.

It is my intention to pwn this health thing, (“pwn” – I am so down wid da youff innit!). My insides are now at war and war is never pretty. My stomach is having Vietnam style flashbacks to when it used to see green food on a regular basis. My alimentary canal will be a Waitrose where once there was a Netto. My arse will be its own Concorde moment.

For someone who doesn’t do veg the future is a little bit squeaky bum. Results to follow.