Tea Power

I think it is fair to say that L is not feeling 100%, as she drags herself to the gym with her dodgy ankle, bad knee, sore thigh and distinctly dodgy eyes. I guess she could always take one of our ‘guide’ dogs with her to the gym.

Also the best of luck to her as regards the heat; it was hot enough on the bike. Once home, I collapse on the bet with a wet tongue on each thigh. That being those guide dogs of course.

Eventfully I exercise the boys in the garden, which doesn’t take long in this heat, until L returns. Then I head off to Derby for another British Sea Power gig, L is letting me out of my own again in exchange for a British Tea Power mug. I purchase a rather nice, if small, retro see-through number.

Tonight they are playing at the Venue in Derby, which I think is just an overnight stopover on their way up to Scotland to play T in the Park tomorrow. It's a long way from Brighton you know. It’s our gain and I suppose you’ve got to pay your hotel bills somehow. 

First up a Nirvana-esk (maybe) two piece support band who mumbled rather a lot, both when singing and conversing with the crowd, to the extent that nobody actually caught their name. Which surely removes any point of them actually playing? I think lacking this type of basic stage craft might hinder their career somewhat.

They are purely guitar and drums, with the drummer hitting his kit so hard that it displaces the carefully arranged BSP foliage off the wall.

At times they sound a bit like the Ramones, several men short. At other times they sound more Billy and Charlotte from the Subways and they seem to get progressively more dirgeful as they go along but overall I do actually I like his voice. They perhaps just need to lighten up a bit.

With them gone, it’s time to re-affix the foliage and hand out water to the crowd. It's hot in the venue tonight, stupidly hot, I bet they'll be no bear suits this evening. The heat also forces me to buy an alcoholic beverage in order to keep cool. There isn’t much choice and I instantly regret it.

Then the band take to the stage, possibly their prettiest stage yet.

There are no great surprises in the set, sadly, but some decent oldies are rotated in tonight. ‘Something Wicked’, ‘Oh Larsen B’ and ‘Fear of Drowning’ make welcome appearances alongside a fair smattering from the new ‘Machineries of Joy’ album, as you would expect. .

Four tracks in and the stage is awash with the sound of barking. Which is a nice touch, particularly with the RSPCA next door, as they move into ‘Loving Animals’ and a five track ‘Hamilton segment’. Although it doesn’t start well with a broken guitar that takes some time to replace, as the roadie seems to have trouble decoding what Hamilton’s furious waving of the injured instrument actually means. 

BSP’s travelling support have been bouncing throughout, despite the heat, and they up their game for ‘No Lucifer’ bringing bemused looks from the locals. Looks that get even more bemused when I am proved wrong about it being too hot for bears and Bipolar bear appears amongst the mosh during ‘Waving Flags’. Even amidst normal temperatures this sort of thing doesn’t happen that often in Derby.

After disappearing, possibly to ring out his suit and for session in an oxygen tent, Bipolar is back for the encore and indulges in a spot of crowd surfing to ‘Carrion’. Then the brown bear appears too, guitarist Noble is off in the crowd hanging from the roof supports and Yan is doing handstands on the stage. Just a normal night out with BSP then.

(Friday 12^th July)

Seamless Changeover

Not the best of pub lunches today. My colleague insists on the Waterfall which will at least have the cricket on, which turns out to be not much of a bonus considering Australia’s last wicket stand. The Abbot is off (again) and the Doom Bar is off as well, but they didn’t tell you that by turning round the pump clip, you had to taste it to find that out yourself. We send it back and end up on dreaded creamflow. So bad, I consider asking for the gone off Doom Bar back. The food isn’t great either.

After work, L gets home from the gym and we do a seamless changeover with the boys as I head for the tennis court for the first time this year. 

It’s been a battle to get a court and it looks like we’ll only get an hour. We won't be able to overrun because all the courts are showing up as booked for the rest of the evening, at least according to the online booking. I blame that Murray chap. Although this proves not to be the case and there are plenty of free courts, so we do manage to complete my 2-6 3-6 defeat. Clearly it’s just another council ploy to lose money. 

Afterwards my opponent suggests the Victoria at Beeston for a drink, which I’m more than up for. His partner’s lad and his friend are there, drinking beer. Blimey, how did they do that? 

Back home, L has prepared salmon curry but then keeps pinging me suggestive texts that are distracting me from my Lincoln Green Porter. I finish my pint and make my excuses. That curry might have to wait.

 (Thursday 11^th July)

The Thighs Have It

My thighs have gone after yesterdays run. I’m not sure where they’ve gone but they’re not where they should be. Perhaps if I cycle, they’ll find themselves again.

In fact we are both on bike today, the born again cyclist and I. In fact L describes it as a ‘new sporting career in cycling'. Something to do with all cyclists having good thighs. I best get her those shorts then.

Tonight she joins me in the car for the trip over to dog training and riding behind us, across the back seat, is her bike. From dog class she cycles along the psychopath to her parents’ house in Mickleover and back for when I finish training. L’s Dad promises to have the band aids at the ready. I, of course, have much more faith in L’s acute cautiousness.

(Wednesday 10^th July)

The Return Of Shipstones Bitter

L, born again cyclist (maybe), is cruising the bike shops looking for some better cycling shorts. She asks what brand I would recommend she goes for? Expensive ones... That’s generally how it works out with cycling gear. I offer to treat her to a pair. I do like a lass in cycling shorts.

After work, as I figure it’s about time I started training for next week’s Cheshire Half Marathon, I go for a run. Eight very hot and draining miles later, somebody incredibly lets me on their bus to complete the rest of the journey home.

From born again cyclist to a born again beer (maybe). Shipstones Bitter is apparently on its way back. Although to be honest some things are perhaps left in the past. It was never the greatest and anyway I thought the Belvoir Brewery, who are involved in this revival, have been brewing it for years under the name Belvoir Star or was that just a marketing (?) ploy.

To his credit, the guy who is taking this on is vowing to brew a version from the brewery's glory days rather than the dark days of 1980's which is how I remember it. Good luck to him. It's only in bottles at the moment but I look forward to trying it on cask when that arrives.

(Tuesday 9^th July)

I Wish You Hadn't Taken Me To The Tri...

My arms and shoulders still ache after Saturday’s swim and both my calves seem to be locked in unhelpful mode. I get out the foam roller but it doesn’t seem to improve them much. Doggo sits on me, just in case that helps. It doesn’t.

L keeps saying ‘I wish you hadn't taken me to the tri...’ Sorry.

Sort of inspired myself, in a sort of ‘still alive’ sort of way, I plan our summer holiday. E.g. Isle of Coll half marathon to start the week; Loch Lomond swim to finish it off. I’m sure everyone’s holiday plans are along similar lines.

The Coll Half website was saying ‘race limit 300 – entries so far 298’, so thought I best get in quick. Although the online booking page offered a generous 54 entries still available but I wasn’t risking which one was right.

Now just to book a ferry, don’t tell Doggo he’s got to go on another boat.

In the evening she heads off for a run with Sweatshop, I head off to train the boys. 

(Monday 8^th July)

Perhaps That's Just Her Hay Fever

A very sporting day today. I get up early (11am) and watch yesterday’s coverage of the Tour de France as live, enjoying a dominate performance from Chris Froome as he took the lead in the race. Then when that’s over I decide it’s too hot and hay fevery to cut the lawn and instead setting down to watch ‘our’ Andy win Wimbledon. Cracking stuff.

Personally I think this has been one of the best Wimbledons ever, even before his win. A lot of this is down to the BBC’s website which enables you to watch whatever match you like, even if that is four Japanese woman playing doubles out on Court 14. Their website coverage gets better every year and is much needed because BBC 1, BBC 2 and Radio 5 yet again featured the tennis equivalent of Manchester United v Wigan throughout the first week. E.g. one of the main seeds thrashing the pants off some sacrificial lower ranked player. Boring. Ok, they got lucky twice, with unexpected defeats for Rog and Rafa but other than that I can understand why people resent the rescheduling of the One Show.

What I want to see is all the Brits getting thrashed on days one and two by, well, anybody and some of the closer mid-ranking games. I'm also rather partial to doubles and now I can indulge myself thoroughly.

After Andy's win we returned to the scene of yesterday’s ‘excitement’, the National Water Sports Centre, to catch some of the Outlaw Triathlon. Which we’ve actually been following online all day. Despite starting at 6am, it’s only now that people are starting to finish.

On the way we check out the runners heading (slowly) through the Embankment before carrying onto the finish. I’m full of admiration for all of them and would love a go at experiencing the same levels of pain at some point in the future. Even L appears to be going a bit glassy eyed at the thought or perhaps that's just her hay fever.

After a few hours we head back home, although still we keep an eye on the online updates. Everybody needs to be home by 11pm in order to call themselves an ‘Outlaw’. Now I can sit down and watch today’s Tour de France coverage.

(Sunday 7^th July)