Seriously Slipping

The legs are still not good and they thoroughly objected as I swung them over the bike this morning but I made it to work and then back home again afterwards. It didn’t even rain.

This season’s UK round of the Track Cycling World Cup is in Glasgow, so there’s the potential for another wild weekend away. If we can fit it in.

It takes a full two hours before L mentions Glasgow Parkrun, so she’s seriously slipping. Obviously not the thought processes of a true athlete.

However, after careful thought, I think we’ll skip this one. It’s 4th-6th November which means putting the boys in kennels over Bonfire Night weekend, probably not much fun for them.

(Tuesday 12^th July)

Down A Pot Hole In The Derwent Valley

Today I’m competing in the Derwent Duathlon which starts from the Fairholmes Visitor Centre in the Upper Derwent Valley, Derbyshire. It was bloody foggy as when we left Nottingham at stupid 0'clock but by the time we were up in the Peak District visibility was almost perfect.

This is a duathlon with a difference; the two run courses are very different. One is 4.5k of fell running, the other 6.5k of mainly road running. You have to do both but in which order is your own choice. As we start and hurtle down the hill to the decision point the field seems almost equally split on which one to do first. I go fell first, certainly not fancying climbing hills on tired legs.

The fell course is narrow and because the field is still tightly bunched a lot of walking is involved, which is fine with me. This I realise is not the best option if you wish to win. To win I guess you must do the road first, so that you then get a clear run at the fell section with the field more spread out.

My calves screamed at me on the uphill sections but thankfully they didn't give up the ghost and 26 minutes later I’m back in transition.

The bike course is hell, there's no other way of describing it because the road was riddled with pot holes. Big tip - don’t bring your best bike, like I had. The organiser had marked the biggest ones with cones but the unmarked ones were still capable of doing damage.

One pot hole knocked the ‘sender’ for my bike computer into my spokes and I had to stop to disentangle it. Then a road wide crevice appeared and although I lifted my front wheel over it, my back one hit it at speed causing my rear tyre to explode. So I had to stop and fix that.

Then once I was up and riding again I hit another one. This time something went on my back brake leaving it locked against my wheel rim. So I had to stop again, this time opting to disable the brake completely.

Finally I got lap one of two over, threw my punctured tube towards L and set off on lap two. I had thought of aborting at this point and going straight on to the run but this is supposed to be hard training after all. I just didn’t bank on this sort of hard.

I was well down the field but able to reel a few in. Thankfully by now I knew where all the pot holes were.

The road was also now full of walkers, other cyclists, families with kids, kids on bikes, kids on scooters and a group of mountain bikers coming straight towards me with no intention of giving way. This combined with the poor state of the road had already caused most competitors to back off and give up on racing hard, although I doubt the ones at the front did.

I got through it and went off on my road run, which was thankfully uneventful. It was also nice to see that the finish wasn’t back up the hill where the start and transition were. I crossed the line relieved and in 69th place of the 94 who finished. There were 9 DNFs.

It wasn't pleasant at times but was sort of good fun. It is potentially a great event and if the road is tarmaced by next year, as it is rumoured it should be, then it could be bike friendly too. The main thing today was to get some training miles in and that was certainly achieved.

Later at Quad in Derby, Scarlett Johansson is feeling a bit alien in Glasgow, which is understandable. We all do. Glasgow, although a place I like, is a bit like that. The thing is in this film by Jonathan Glazer from a novel by Michel Faber she really is an alien.

Johansson (as Laura the alien) roams the streets of the strange, unfamiliar world that is Glasgow in a white van. Occasionally she stops and asks men who are walking home alone (oh the irony) for directions, before offering to give them a lift. Once in the van she engages them in conversation and flirts with them before luring them back to her run down abode where, entranced by Johansson, they strip off their clothes while following her disrobing figure.

Yet they never reach their goal, her, as they disappear beneath her bedroom floor, where they remain trapped until they get their innards sucked out. Which are then presumably sent back to her home planet. Our alien is completely remorseless about her task and shows no empathy for her victims, who think it is their lucky day and they're going to get to shag Scarlett Johansson.

Later, out on the Scottish coast whilst in the process of seducing a surfer, she observes a dog adrift in the sea, a woman getting in trouble trying to rescue it, her husband getting in trouble trying to rescue her and the surfer getting in trouble trying to save anyone he can.

She attempts to save her target, the surfer, yet leaves the others and also ignores their abandoned young child who is left screaming on the beach, left to swallowed by the incoming tide. Our alien has no understanding of the situation.

In time though, she does seem to develop a morality about her actions. After seducing a disfigured man, she lets him escape and then attempts to escape herself. Running from the purpose she was sent here for and from the men on motorbikes who watch over her.

Whilst on the run in the countryside, she is befriended by a stranger. He still wants to get physical with her, of course, as does a worker in the forest, although in a more forceful manner. Suddenly the hunter has become the hunted.

It’s a bit off the wall at times and maybe having read the novel would have helped but I haven't. Yet I was just happy to go with it and embrace the fact that this alien girl (aren't they all) sinks her naked male suitors into the alien equivalent of a shagpile carpet.

Johansson is superb and brave to take on this type of role. She manages to exude a total lack of emotion throughout in such a way that, unbelievably, you kind of sympathise with her. 

For a post race/film debrief we end up in the Golden Eagle, where the Titan Brewery doesn't manage to come up with the dark Stouty goods this time. So we move to the Silk Mill, which certainly does.

(Sunday 30th March) 

At The Alter

It’s too packed in the Brunswick for lunch, we’re told there’s a 45 minute wait for food at least. This is because it’s the Derby Winter Beer festival, although I’ve never really understood why everyone hits the pub first. We decamp to the Waterfall which is completely empty, as usual, but the food is ok and swift.

Later, after an hour or more entertaining the boys, I head into town to meet L. We go for a drink first, in the Hand and Heart, before heading off to the Rescue Rooms. 

We arrive to find ‘Three Blind Wolves’ on stage, looking a bit hemmed in. Being the first of three bands, they don’t seem to have been left much space. They sound distinctly American and for a second I think they have Craig Finn of the Hold Steady playing with them but nope, that’s definitely a Scottish accent. They’re another band off the prolific Glasgow production line, albeit playing some, sort of messy, countrified rock complete with what appears to be the odd barbershop harmony. They’re a lively bunch though, with a very animated front man and some interesting tunes.

They’re also overrunning... as by consequence are Canada’s Wintersleep, all the way from Nova Scotia. Wintersleep have been around forever, or at least they appear to have been. I saw them back in 2009 playing with the Editors but I don't recall them leaving much of an impression.

They have an air about them that says ‘we’re been around forever and we know what we’re doing’ so their set is certainly competent, full of catchy boppy tunes. Perhaps their only crime is that they think they're headlining or at least wished they were, hence the later than expected start time. Not really their fault I guess. Anyhow I was really enjoying their short but sweet set until they ruined it with a rather self indulgent last track finale. 

 

When Frightened Rabbit take the stage, or is it an alter, it’s a very religiously inspired stage, it is to a big appreciative cheer. The F-Rabbit faithful are ready to worship at that alter/stage and appropriately the band open with the boisterous ‘Holy’. Now the Rabbits do religion, sort of.

Then with no messing, it’s into the classic ‘The Modern Leper’, followed by something to ‘dance’ to in ‘Old Old Fashioned’. Not one of my favourites, but it’s popular.

Then we’re back to the new album ‘Pedestrian Verse’ and ‘Late March, Death March’, which we’re told is about arguments during the walk home from the pub. So at least it’s not all religion then and it’s good to know we’re still having girl problems.

As you would expect, a lot of the set is taken from their rather excellent fourth album. Which is a slightly more upbeat selection of downbeat misery but then I suppose 2010’s ‘The Winter of Mixed Drinks’ was too. Only this time, the main man, Scott Hutchison is back to his poetic best and excels himself with the lyrical depth that he puts into the songs. It’s an album that has finally taken them into the top 10 and the recognition they’ve deserved for years. Those rabbits have finally emerged from the warren blinking into the sunlight, although I did have quite a soft spot for that warren.

The new material ‘December's Traditions’, ‘Backyard Skulls’, ‘Dead Now’ etc, sit well alongside the older material and the band are on fine form throughout, at times impressively using four guitars plus a bass guitar to fashion out their sound.

Hutchinson straight bats the many requests, saying we work to a setlist you know and letting the crowd play what he calls ‘setlist bingo’ e.g. keep shouting until you reach the song he was going to play anyway.

They didn't used to of course, have a setlist I mean. Back in the day, they used to make the setlist up as they went along. It was part of their charm. My favourite FR gig is still the first time I saw them at Leicester’s Musician, unplugged, and the setlist finished after about 6 songs, then they took requests.

They’re more polished these days, which is a little sad, as it was the rough edges and the cosy, shambolic feel that I used to like about them but there’s still the Hutchison humour, they still do the amazing ‘My Backwards Walk’ as well as now having some equally amazing new songs such as ‘State Hospital’, their single from last year.

We do get an acoustic moment. Standing alone on the stage, Hutchison plays a splendid ‘Poke’. Then Andy Monaghan rejoins for an impressive ‘Good Arms vs. Bad Arms’ and then two thirds through the rest of the band return to finish it off.

If anything there’s too much tonight from 'The Midnight Organ Fight’, sadly nothing is played from their debut ‘Sing the Greys’ and I would have said not much from their third either until two more surface in the encore, taking the compliment to a respectable four as ‘Living in Colour’ and ‘The Loneliness and the Scream’ bring to a close tonight’s service in the church of the Frightened Rabbit.

They were good, excellent in fact, but I’d still hark back to saying those disorganised, make it up as you go along nights were the best.

(Thursday 21^st February)

Mission Accomplished

We don’t have tickets for today’s velodrome programme so we head home and don’t see Trotty clinch Omnium victory by the skin of her teeth. That is until we get home and watch the recording of it.

Oddly the M6 is again fine... I’m sure it’ll bite back at some stage.

We spend a pleasant night in with Daughter before she heads off back to Sheffield tomorrow, having completed her dog sitting assignment. They seems to have enjoyed it, I think she may have done as well despite claims to the contrary.

(Sunday 18th November)

Skin Abrasions

L reckons she ought to run this weekend even though we're away. My opinion is that she didn’t ought to run, no, not at all. She should put her feet up and have a debaucherous weekend where she eats loads, drinks loads and lets herself get led astray by me as often as possible, persistent concierges permitting. She can always hit training hard on Monday.

Clearly a bit knackered from so much debauchery, in this case mainly watching cycling and late night bars, we oversleep and nearly miss breakfast. Which turns out to be a bit naff anyway. Scrambled eggs, sausages and beans does not a full English (or Scottish) make. Oh well, it is only a Holiday Inn I suppose. Then back to bed I think.

Later we wander around Glasgow which is a mix of lovely old buildings, a few new ones and quite a bit of dereliction. The overall impression is very positive though and it’s a much friendlier place than I expected. Compared with London say, that’s assuming the Olympic glow has worn off down there, during which it was really friendly.

We find a pub called the ‘Pot Still’ and where Scotland are getting stuffed in the rugby on the big screen. The locals all seem to be ignoring it or pretending to ignore it. We have a pleasant drink or two and then it’s back to the velodrome for Day 2.

Our two blondes get silver and bronze in the individual sprint. They met in the semi-finals where Jess Varnish won a close battle 2-1 before losing out to the super human thighs of Germany’s Kristina Vogel in the final.

There are crashes galore elsewhere. While Olympic sprint champion Jason Kenny looked totally untroubled in his Keirin semi-final, Lewis Oliva left his on a stretcher after crashing on the final corner which left him with concussion and skin abrasions. We were to see a lot of impressive skin abrasions over the weekend.

Then in the final it was Kenny's turn. When Kenny clipped the back wheel of another rider it was goodbye to a medal and hello to those skin abrasions. He did pick himself up to finish the race fourth on a road bike.

Then it's time to settle down for the Laura Trott show, the Elimination Race. Which early on featured another crash, as a German girl went down hard. First they had to neutralise the race and then stop it completely as she is stretchered off. Then it’s back to Trott for the usual master class and victory. It not hard to see where the bragging rights are in the Trott/Kenny household tonight.

(Saturday 17th November)

Glasgow

This morning we head up the M6 and the M74 to the Gorbals. Yes, glorious Glasgow. For once it’s an easy passage up the motorway and a reasonable five hour trip.

We’re staying at the Holiday Inn, which is adequate, if unspectacular. Its right next to the Winter Gardens and the River Clyde, which makes a pleasant evening walk as we attempt to find the extremely unsignposted new velodrome. The Sir Chris Hoy Velodrome that is, for the inaugural Glasgow World Cup. We get there eventually. Now if they’d said it was right next to Celtic's football ground then that would have made things a lot easier.

The racing is a spectacular as ever, although we miss the biggest crash of the day which came in the afternoon session for which we didn’t have tickets. It came courtesy of our own men’s team pursuit squad, which featured none of the Olympic winning quartet, and who fell off, spectacularly. So no chance of a medal there then.

Elsewhere there was more success. The two blondes on bikes, our Women’s team sprint duo of Jess Varnish and Becky James, didn’t fall off and beat Spain for gold.

There was also no falling off either for the women’s pursuit team, featuring A Level student Elinor Barker rather than the virus struck Jo Rowsell alongside Olympic champions Dani King and Laura Trott as they beat Australia to Gold.

There was an experiment in the team sprint, where Olympic team pursuit champion Ed Clancy debuted at the shorter distance alongside Olympic champions/world record holders Jason Kenny and Philip Hindes, as a replacement for Chris Hoy, in the Chris Hoy Velodrome. So no pressure then. They got silver. Which surely counts as a success.

Afterwards, and before as it happens, we frequent the Blackfriars bar, a rather pleasant Glasgow ale house with some rather quaffable beers.

(Friday 16th November)

Unpalatable Language

The ride into work went well apart from the fact I had some parasite hitching a lift on my rear wheel all the way to Derby. He was dawdling along so slowly I had no choice but to pass him but then miraculously he found enough momentum to hide in my slipstream. No apologies but a cheery wave when he finally pulled off.

It was almost as bad on the way home. I saw a chap trying to catch me, so I put on a bit of a spurt. Which meant, when we both had to stop at the lights, he ended up collapsed at my feet, uttering some rather unpalatable language concerning my sudden acceleration. At least he was chatty, when he got his breath back, and apologised for using me as a hare.

Daughter is on the university helplines today dealing with enquiries about clearing. I think she’s loving the power she has over people lives, telling them whether they meet the criteria for a place at the Uni or not.

Full of Olympic spirit, I decide to treat L to a weekend away... in Glasgow. She likes cities. The first event at the brand new Sir Chris Hoy Velodrome is a round of the Track Cycling World Cup, which doubles as a test event prior to the 2014 Commonwealth Games.

Still scarred by the brutal experience of Olympic ticket buying, I get my strategy right this time and velodrome tickets for Friday and Saturday night are purchased and a hotel. All I need now is train tickets... at £120 each return with two changes, perhaps not.

Tennis tonight is truly horrible. I really do not like playing tennis, the courts are far too small these days...

(Thursday 16th August)