Been a long time since my last musing. Lots has happened since then, but today, hopefully one long and painful chapter of my life could be about to draw to a close. Finally, after almost 3 years, dozens of trips to the hospital, Christ knows how many hours in Pilates and Physio sessions and several hundred of pounds wasted with various osteopaths and acupuncturists, my consultant looked at a recent MRI scan, diagnosed the unmistakable bulging disk that has been compressing into my sciatic nerve every time I stand up and referred me to Charing Cross hospital for an operation to trim it back to it's normal size.
Now, I know there are no guarantees with any surgery and also that this operation in particular comes with some pretty hair-raising risks, but tonight I'm feeling positive.
I apologise to everyone who has been frustrated with me and my limitations over the past few years. I don't apologise to those who probably thought I was making it all up.
But now, all I want to do, is think of all the wonderful things that most people take for granted but those that I've been scared I'll never be able to do without pain.
Play golf, go to a theme park, stand up at gigs, go to festivals, catch a tube at rush hour, walks on the beach, look round the shops, take my son to the park, watch him play football, drinks receptions, stand in a queue, walk round a museum, prepare a meal, iron my clothes...
Ok, maybe I'm not really looking forward to the last one!
Thursday 21 October 2010
Monday 31 May 2010
Day 3
The big one. 100 miles on the bike from Bernay all the way to the Arc De Triomphe in Paris. The build-up to each day was a nervous experience as you had no real idea what lay ahead in terms of climbs and weather conditions. Because this one was so long and everybody could feel the effects of two long days in the saddle, the nerves today were particularly acute.
In order to try and get everyone to the Arc reasonably closely together, the four teams staggered their starts in half hour intervals, meaning those of us in the leading pack weren't setting off till 9am. As my room-mate was in Team 4 however, any nice lie-in was curtailed due to the alarm going off at 6am!
This of course set us an interesting challenge. Could we reach the Arc first, despite setting off a whole 90 minutes after the opening group? I'm sure this was in all of our minds as our now perfectly engineered peloton sped off at a blistering pace. With the wind blowing in our favour and a relatively flat stage promised, we were cruising along
at speeds well in excess of 20mph. We knocked off the first 25 mile stage in amazing time. When we reached the rest stop, both teams 2 and 3 were still there, much to our delight. By the time we pushed through the 2nd 29 mile stage, we'd passed everyone.
We were making such good progress, we were ordered to find a local bar to keep warm and kill time. Half way through the final day and we all just wanted to push on but we understood the need to respect the wishes of the charity we were riding for.
The final half of the day was chopped up into 3 smaller sections which we continued to blast through . By now we were so far ahead, there was no way we'd all be able to celebrate together. Some of the other groups had also suffered puncture delays, something we'd managed to avoid all weekend.
As the final 30 or so miles started to tick away, the quick pace and the unprecedented number of miles started to take its toll on me mentally and physically, culminating in a full-on sugar crash on a short but steep climp coming out of Versailles. Stuffing peanut brittle and jelly beans in my mouth and taking long swigs of energy drink, we moved towards the final goal.
We stopped again just on the outskirts of Paris to allow the closest group a chance to catch us. This time however, tea and cake was replaced by Kronenbourg as the refreshment of choice. After around 45 minutes, we got news that the 2nd group were approaching, so we got back on the bikes and rode as a large team down into Paris itself, through the park (Bois de Boulogne) and up towards the Arc itself.
The final and not inconsiderable challenge was getting around the Arc itself in one piece. This is a crazy piece of road. No markings whatsoever and vehicles appear to have right of way from all entrances.
Amid a chorus of cheers and airhorns we were soaked with bubbly as we finally reached the final checkpoint. Celebrations continued unabaited from that moment on and the sun was up before I finally lay my head down this morning.
This was an amazing weekend and I met some truly great people along the way. Sitting here now, back in Blighty all feels a bit miserable in comparison.
They told us at the briefing before the ride that a large proportion of people who do one ride for the charity, sign up for a 2nd the following year. I seriously doubted that at the close of Day 1. Sitting here now, I think they might just be on to something.
In order to try and get everyone to the Arc reasonably closely together, the four teams staggered their starts in half hour intervals, meaning those of us in the leading pack weren't setting off till 9am. As my room-mate was in Team 4 however, any nice lie-in was curtailed due to the alarm going off at 6am!
This of course set us an interesting challenge. Could we reach the Arc first, despite setting off a whole 90 minutes after the opening group? I'm sure this was in all of our minds as our now perfectly engineered peloton sped off at a blistering pace. With the wind blowing in our favour and a relatively flat stage promised, we were cruising along
at speeds well in excess of 20mph. We knocked off the first 25 mile stage in amazing time. When we reached the rest stop, both teams 2 and 3 were still there, much to our delight. By the time we pushed through the 2nd 29 mile stage, we'd passed everyone.
We were making such good progress, we were ordered to find a local bar to keep warm and kill time. Half way through the final day and we all just wanted to push on but we understood the need to respect the wishes of the charity we were riding for.
The final half of the day was chopped up into 3 smaller sections which we continued to blast through . By now we were so far ahead, there was no way we'd all be able to celebrate together. Some of the other groups had also suffered puncture delays, something we'd managed to avoid all weekend.
As the final 30 or so miles started to tick away, the quick pace and the unprecedented number of miles started to take its toll on me mentally and physically, culminating in a full-on sugar crash on a short but steep climp coming out of Versailles. Stuffing peanut brittle and jelly beans in my mouth and taking long swigs of energy drink, we moved towards the final goal.We stopped again just on the outskirts of Paris to allow the closest group a chance to catch us. This time however, tea and cake was replaced by Kronenbourg as the refreshment of choice. After around 45 minutes, we got news that the 2nd group were approaching, so we got back on the bikes and rode as a large team down into Paris itself, through the park (Bois de Boulogne) and up towards the Arc itself.
The final and not inconsiderable challenge was getting around the Arc itself in one piece. This is a crazy piece of road. No markings whatsoever and vehicles appear to have right of way from all entrances.
Amid a chorus of cheers and airhorns we were soaked with bubbly as we finally reached the final checkpoint. Celebrations continued unabaited from that moment on and the sun was up before I finally lay my head down this morning.
This was an amazing weekend and I met some truly great people along the way. Sitting here now, back in Blighty all feels a bit miserable in comparison.They told us at the briefing before the ride that a large proportion of people who do one ride for the charity, sign up for a 2nd the following year. I seriously doubted that at the close of Day 1. Sitting here now, I think they might just be on to something.
Saturday 29 May 2010
Day 2
What a difference a day makes. Day 2 is the shortest and probably easiest of the 3 days due to the ferry crossing that takes up the morning. Still, at 60 miles, it's still a trek and there are some killer hills along the way. For some reason though, my body and perhaps more importantly, my mind responded far better to the challenge today.
Stage one was great, despite driving wind and strong winds. It gave us our first chance to really ride as a team, tucked up together as a group, our wheels just inches apart to combat the wind.
Riding in France is also a completely different experience. In complete contrast to Britian, French drivers love cyclists. They were waving and beeping their horns as they passed us. They did this yesterday in England too of course, but out of anger and frustration. Amazing what difference a bit of water makes.
Stage two was the toughest. 25 miles and 3 big hills to negotiate. Despite the challenges though, my head stayed positive and although in considerable pain, there was no cramp or complete energy crashes in the legs.
Stage 3 was perhaps the most fun I've ever had on a bike. Mainly flatish and through stunning countryside. By now, we could feel the finish line and we were flying along at over 20mph for most of the way. Even the one long steep hill seemed to bring satisfaction.
Today was great. A swim at the hotel to loosen the muscles and now need to sign off as the bar and dinner now beckons.
Tomorrow is the big one. 100 miles into Paris. Gulp!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Stage one was great, despite driving wind and strong winds. It gave us our first chance to really ride as a team, tucked up together as a group, our wheels just inches apart to combat the wind.
Riding in France is also a completely different experience. In complete contrast to Britian, French drivers love cyclists. They were waving and beeping their horns as they passed us. They did this yesterday in England too of course, but out of anger and frustration. Amazing what difference a bit of water makes.
Stage two was the toughest. 25 miles and 3 big hills to negotiate. Despite the challenges though, my head stayed positive and although in considerable pain, there was no cramp or complete energy crashes in the legs.
Stage 3 was perhaps the most fun I've ever had on a bike. Mainly flatish and through stunning countryside. By now, we could feel the finish line and we were flying along at over 20mph for most of the way. Even the one long steep hill seemed to bring satisfaction.
Today was great. A swim at the hotel to loosen the muscles and now need to sign off as the bar and dinner now beckons.
Tomorrow is the big one. 100 miles into Paris. Gulp!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Friday 28 May 2010
Day 1
It started well enough, eating up all the familiar miles I was well used to training. 20 miles and we arrived to the first break stop feeling strong. We did however hear the troubling news that a member of the group behind had be forced off his bike by an impatient Surrey Council van, which then proceeded to drive over said bike leaving it in a crumpled mess.
Stage 2 was where it got difficult. Although I'd covered many miles in my training, I simply haven't ridden enough hills. It killed me. Mentally I knew I had to get to 17 miles and when I got past that number, my brain told my legs to give up. Stage 2 turned out to be 21 miles as we'd taken a wrong turn (unknown to me who by now was way off the pace) and those last 4 miles were torture. 'What am I doing' was a question I asked myself over and over.
When I got to lunch, a brand new bike was waiting for Council Victim man. They obviously feared what might appear in the papers and acted with a speed I didn't realise local authorities were capable of.
I stocked up big time at lunch. I couldn't afford to hit the wall like I'd done previously. As a result, stage 3 was easier, with the exception of one killer hill, which quite frankly, I didn't even attempt on the bike.
Stage 4 was all downhill to Portsmouth. Or so I thought anyway. It was anything but of course and the wind coming offthe sea was in our faces for the whole final 17 miles.
And here I sit now. Wind chapped, sore, aching and struggling to stay awake. I'm burning in some places and numb in others. I won't actually be on the bike again till about midday. We'll see now how good my body is at making a sharp recovery, because quite frankly, I have little choice.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Stage 2 was where it got difficult. Although I'd covered many miles in my training, I simply haven't ridden enough hills. It killed me. Mentally I knew I had to get to 17 miles and when I got past that number, my brain told my legs to give up. Stage 2 turned out to be 21 miles as we'd taken a wrong turn (unknown to me who by now was way off the pace) and those last 4 miles were torture. 'What am I doing' was a question I asked myself over and over.
When I got to lunch, a brand new bike was waiting for Council Victim man. They obviously feared what might appear in the papers and acted with a speed I didn't realise local authorities were capable of.
I stocked up big time at lunch. I couldn't afford to hit the wall like I'd done previously. As a result, stage 3 was easier, with the exception of one killer hill, which quite frankly, I didn't even attempt on the bike.
Stage 4 was all downhill to Portsmouth. Or so I thought anyway. It was anything but of course and the wind coming offthe sea was in our faces for the whole final 17 miles.
And here I sit now. Wind chapped, sore, aching and struggling to stay awake. I'm burning in some places and numb in others. I won't actually be on the bike again till about midday. We'll see now how good my body is at making a sharp recovery, because quite frankly, I have little choice.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Thursday 27 May 2010
It's D Day
The time has come. Tomorrow I'm setting off from Twickenham to start a 3 day journey to Paris on 2 wheels, with only pasta and mars bars for fuel.
Thank you to everybody who has sponsored me. I'll be thinking of you when i'm struggling to keep the wheels turning.
If anybody still hasn't got in on the act, it's not too late.
Please visit http://original.justgiving.com/kevintuk and please give what you can afford.
Marie Curie do an amazing job providing personal care in the home for people in the final days of their battle with cancer and I'm proud to have raised so much for them so far. Please make me prouder!
Thank you to everybody who has sponsored me. I'll be thinking of you when i'm struggling to keep the wheels turning.
If anybody still hasn't got in on the act, it's not too late.
Please visit http://original.justgiving.com/kevintuk and please give what you can afford.
Marie Curie do an amazing job providing personal care in the home for people in the final days of their battle with cancer and I'm proud to have raised so much for them so far. Please make me prouder!
Saturday 22 May 2010
Smashed!
Surely for anyone with an iPhone or similar smartphone device, this is pretty much your worst nightmare? Well, it certainly was for me the other night.
All had gone well that evening. I'd been to a really great gig to see White Rabbits (check them out on Spotify if you don't know them!) and I was nicely oiled. Too nicely oiled it would seem, as when I jumped off the tube at Green Park (admittedly like a twat) my phone flew out of my pocket and went bounding down the platform ahead of me. As you can see from the picture, my worst fears were quickly confirmed.
As the tube resurfaced at Barons Court, this was usually my cue to get back in touch with the world. As soon as the magic 3G symbol appeared, I would catch up with friends on Twitter or Facebook, deal with any new work emails, read the news, check the weather, you name it. After just a few minutes without my iPhone and with plenty of time to think, I realised just how utterly dependent I'd become to it. Having your entire music collection in your pocket now seems like a basic human right. And how the hell are you meant to negotiate your way around unfamiliar parts of London without GPS? I didn't even know what the time was as I made my way home. I've long since abandoned my watch.
More upsetting was that I was hoping to blog from my London - Paris trip next week. Now it seems I will be limited to the crude form of Twitter that I've managed to crank up on my old makeshift Sony Ericsson.
Or maybe I'll be able to find an Internet Cafe. That's what we used to do in the olden days, right?
All had gone well that evening. I'd been to a really great gig to see White Rabbits (check them out on Spotify if you don't know them!) and I was nicely oiled. Too nicely oiled it would seem, as when I jumped off the tube at Green Park (admittedly like a twat) my phone flew out of my pocket and went bounding down the platform ahead of me. As you can see from the picture, my worst fears were quickly confirmed.As the tube resurfaced at Barons Court, this was usually my cue to get back in touch with the world. As soon as the magic 3G symbol appeared, I would catch up with friends on Twitter or Facebook, deal with any new work emails, read the news, check the weather, you name it. After just a few minutes without my iPhone and with plenty of time to think, I realised just how utterly dependent I'd become to it. Having your entire music collection in your pocket now seems like a basic human right. And how the hell are you meant to negotiate your way around unfamiliar parts of London without GPS? I didn't even know what the time was as I made my way home. I've long since abandoned my watch.
More upsetting was that I was hoping to blog from my London - Paris trip next week. Now it seems I will be limited to the crude form of Twitter that I've managed to crank up on my old makeshift Sony Ericsson.
Or maybe I'll be able to find an Internet Cafe. That's what we used to do in the olden days, right?
Tuesday 27 April 2010
Judgement Day
So the day that all Palace fans have been fearing is finally now upon us. Sheffield Wednesday Away. A point needed to survive in this division. A loss... well it doesn't even bear thinking about.
Ever since our form nose-dived following the 10 point deduction imposed for slipping into Administration, people have stared transfixed at the final fixture of the season, just praying it wasn't going to come down to that. But deep down, we all knew it was pre-determined, primed and ready to be written into footballing folklore.
You see following Crystal Palace is the footballing equivalent of living with Bipolar Disorder. Short periods of calm and order, interrupted by wild swings of ecstasy and despair. Pivotal days that will live in our memories forever have shaped our fortunes since I've been a supporter for the past 25 years. That next pivotal moment is Sunday and quite possibly this is the most pivotal of them all.
It's fair to say I haven't been the greatest supporter over the past couple of years. This was my first year without a season ticket, something which felt slightly shameful but also strangely liberating. Watching Palace under Simon Jordan was to me like watching a man on death row. Everything was stacking up against us and the man was slowly strangling the life out of the club, edging us closer and closer to the tipping point of catastrophe, a cliff that we are now well and truly falling off.
A point on Sunday could signal that rock bottom has finally been reached and we can maybe start our climb back up towards the next dizzy high point. Failure to secure this point could, I fear, lead to a period of massive irrecoverable decline, even extinction.
For those of you who support other teams or simply couldn't care less about football, just spare a thought for us Palace fans on Sunday lunchtime. We will be going through it for each and every one of those 90 minutes.
Unless we're 4-0 up at half time. Even we couldn't screw that up? Could we?
Ever since our form nose-dived following the 10 point deduction imposed for slipping into Administration, people have stared transfixed at the final fixture of the season, just praying it wasn't going to come down to that. But deep down, we all knew it was pre-determined, primed and ready to be written into footballing folklore.
You see following Crystal Palace is the footballing equivalent of living with Bipolar Disorder. Short periods of calm and order, interrupted by wild swings of ecstasy and despair. Pivotal days that will live in our memories forever have shaped our fortunes since I've been a supporter for the past 25 years. That next pivotal moment is Sunday and quite possibly this is the most pivotal of them all.
It's fair to say I haven't been the greatest supporter over the past couple of years. This was my first year without a season ticket, something which felt slightly shameful but also strangely liberating. Watching Palace under Simon Jordan was to me like watching a man on death row. Everything was stacking up against us and the man was slowly strangling the life out of the club, edging us closer and closer to the tipping point of catastrophe, a cliff that we are now well and truly falling off.
A point on Sunday could signal that rock bottom has finally been reached and we can maybe start our climb back up towards the next dizzy high point. Failure to secure this point could, I fear, lead to a period of massive irrecoverable decline, even extinction.
For those of you who support other teams or simply couldn't care less about football, just spare a thought for us Palace fans on Sunday lunchtime. We will be going through it for each and every one of those 90 minutes.
Unless we're 4-0 up at half time. Even we couldn't screw that up? Could we?
Tuesday 13 April 2010
Free the 'West Memphis Three'
Over the past week or so, I've been startled and engrossed by a series of documentaries about a brutal mass child-murder case which took place in Arkansas, USA, back in 1993. Three 8-year old boys were stripped, mutilated and dumped in a muddy ditch in a small wooded area of West Memphis, known as Robin Hood Hills.
The first documentary follows the police investigation and subsequent murder trials of three young men, Damian Echols, Jason Baldwin and Jessie Misskelley. As you can imagine, the utter shock, disgust and outrage that such a heinous crime will bring out in a small tight-knit community is there for all to see and these men provide a focus of hate for a grieving town.
What follows however is nothing short of jaw-dropping as you watch the prosecution press home their charges with the flimsiest of evidence.
I say evidence. There wasn't any.
The sum total of the evidence presented that convinced the jury beyond a reasonable doubt to effectively end the free lives of these men forever, and put one of them on death row, was as follows. 1) A coerced confession from one of the boys, Jessie, who has severe learning difficulties. 2) The testimony of two young girls who thought they'd overheard Damian admitting to the murders to his friends and 3) The fact that he listened to heavy metal and wore black, so was clearly a satanist.
That was it. Not one scrap of physical evidence. Nothing in the prosecution's case added up. Jesse's account of what happened on the day of the murder didn't even match the known facts of the case. It took the police 12 hours of suggestion to get him to change his story enough so that everything married up. They maintained that the boys carried these murders out in darkness, there in the woods, yet somehow, these young boys had managed to clean up every last drop of blood and forensic evidence from the crime scene.
16 years later they still rot in jail, although DNA breakthroughs since the initial trial have all but proved their innocence (and implicated one of the victim's step fathers)
Even some of the parents of the murdered boys are now convinced of these men's innocence and are actively campaigning for their release.
Yet to do so, would mean the Arkansas law makers admitting they'd made a terrible mistake, which has ruined the lives of three innocent men and allowed a child killer to walk the streets a free man for all this time.
It seems that is too bitter a pill to swallow.
What's more unsettling is to think that this is only in the public arena because HBO decided to document the case at the time. How many other witch hunts and miscarriages of justice have their been in other small towns that we'll never get to find out about?
And if this is happening in The Land Of The Free, the mind boggles as the sheer numbers of innocent people currently locked up or worse around the world as we speak.
Find out more here
The first documentary follows the police investigation and subsequent murder trials of three young men, Damian Echols, Jason Baldwin and Jessie Misskelley. As you can imagine, the utter shock, disgust and outrage that such a heinous crime will bring out in a small tight-knit community is there for all to see and these men provide a focus of hate for a grieving town.What follows however is nothing short of jaw-dropping as you watch the prosecution press home their charges with the flimsiest of evidence.
I say evidence. There wasn't any.
The sum total of the evidence presented that convinced the jury beyond a reasonable doubt to effectively end the free lives of these men forever, and put one of them on death row, was as follows. 1) A coerced confession from one of the boys, Jessie, who has severe learning difficulties. 2) The testimony of two young girls who thought they'd overheard Damian admitting to the murders to his friends and 3) The fact that he listened to heavy metal and wore black, so was clearly a satanist.
That was it. Not one scrap of physical evidence. Nothing in the prosecution's case added up. Jesse's account of what happened on the day of the murder didn't even match the known facts of the case. It took the police 12 hours of suggestion to get him to change his story enough so that everything married up. They maintained that the boys carried these murders out in darkness, there in the woods, yet somehow, these young boys had managed to clean up every last drop of blood and forensic evidence from the crime scene.
16 years later they still rot in jail, although DNA breakthroughs since the initial trial have all but proved their innocence (and implicated one of the victim's step fathers)
Even some of the parents of the murdered boys are now convinced of these men's innocence and are actively campaigning for their release.
Yet to do so, would mean the Arkansas law makers admitting they'd made a terrible mistake, which has ruined the lives of three innocent men and allowed a child killer to walk the streets a free man for all this time.
It seems that is too bitter a pill to swallow.
What's more unsettling is to think that this is only in the public arena because HBO decided to document the case at the time. How many other witch hunts and miscarriages of justice have their been in other small towns that we'll never get to find out about?
And if this is happening in The Land Of The Free, the mind boggles as the sheer numbers of innocent people currently locked up or worse around the world as we speak.
Find out more here
Wednesday 7 April 2010
What choice do we really have?
The hare is now officially running and in a month's time, we the electorate, will be asked to exercise our democratic duty in choosing the next Government for this great country of ours.
But what choice are we really being given? How are we realistically meant to decide on where to put our cross?
Politics in this country is already at its lowest ebb following expenses scandals, illegal wars and voter apathy. A general election should be just what the Dr ordered. A chance to draw a line in the sand and move in a new direction. So why is it so difficult to make any major distinction between the 3 main parties?
Media commentary on the election campaign seems obsessed with the leader's wives, which ad agency have been commissioned for the latest billboards, their oratory ability, which backdrops they chose to make their speeches in front of and the people they chose to have around them as they spoke.
Nothing is said about the content of these speeches or any policy clues they contain. We seem obsessed on the race to No 10, but not what each party will deliver when they get there.
For the first time, I am what you could call a floating voter. Historically always a Tory voter, I'm still waiting to hear anything from Camp Cameron to convince me he deserves my vote. For a while I thought maybe Lib Dem could be the way to go, but again, a glance through their election pledges turns up nothing to indicate any major change in direction.
It seems I'm gonna have to make the concerted effort to trawl the news channels and the depths of the Internet to gleen anything of sufficient gravity to help me cement my decision.
If we're going to turn around the trend of lower and lower turn-outs at the polls, they're going to have to make it a lot easier than this.
For bullshit-free opinion on the election campaign, also see http://matthew-urbanamish.blogspot.com and http://liampennington.blogspot.com
But what choice are we really being given? How are we realistically meant to decide on where to put our cross?
Politics in this country is already at its lowest ebb following expenses scandals, illegal wars and voter apathy. A general election should be just what the Dr ordered. A chance to draw a line in the sand and move in a new direction. So why is it so difficult to make any major distinction between the 3 main parties?
Media commentary on the election campaign seems obsessed with the leader's wives, which ad agency have been commissioned for the latest billboards, their oratory ability, which backdrops they chose to make their speeches in front of and the people they chose to have around them as they spoke.
Nothing is said about the content of these speeches or any policy clues they contain. We seem obsessed on the race to No 10, but not what each party will deliver when they get there.
For the first time, I am what you could call a floating voter. Historically always a Tory voter, I'm still waiting to hear anything from Camp Cameron to convince me he deserves my vote. For a while I thought maybe Lib Dem could be the way to go, but again, a glance through their election pledges turns up nothing to indicate any major change in direction.
It seems I'm gonna have to make the concerted effort to trawl the news channels and the depths of the Internet to gleen anything of sufficient gravity to help me cement my decision.
If we're going to turn around the trend of lower and lower turn-outs at the polls, they're going to have to make it a lot easier than this.
For bullshit-free opinion on the election campaign, also see http://matthew-urbanamish.blogspot.com and http://liampennington.blogspot.com
Tuesday 30 March 2010
Tents,Tuborg and terrible burgers
After a stressful night trying to secure Reading festival tickets for some friends and the official line-up announcement on Radio 1, I'm suddenly feeling very excited about the months to come.
With Hot Chip, The XX and Editors already done and Century Man, Chew Lips, Deadmau5 and The National all coming up, I'll have already seen more bands this year than I usually do in 5.
Follow that with a chilled weekend in Cheltenham for the 2000 Trees Festival in July and then the main event at the end of August, Reading!
2010 is shaping up to be a stonker!
Monday 29 March 2010
The hills, THE HILLS!
Well yesterday saw my first serious test in my preparations for London - Paris. And I'm sorry to say, I failed miserably!
On paper, it seemed easy enough. 40 miles through the rolling Kent countryside. I've done 40 miles before several times. I've done it on my heavy old hybrid with it's chunky wheels. This will be a breeze on the road bike. I thought.
How wrong could I be?!
It has to be said my preparation for the event could have been better. After getting hammered on Thursday night watching Editors, I then decided to down a good few on Friday night at a friend's leaving do, then Saturday night, I was on the beer again at a poker night at my folks place. A poker night that went on the wee hours. I of course, was tucked up in bed by 11pm, but you try sleeping when downstairs all you can hear are screams of delight about Full Houses and High Straights.
So with barely 3 hours sleep, off I drive at the crack of dawn to Hildenbrough to take on what was clearly the hardest cycle I've ever attempted.
From the outset, I quickly realised that this ride was all about the hills. One slow painful ascent after another, punctuated with all too brief descents at break neck speed to the bottom of the next hill.
After 6 miles I'd lost one of my cycling companions to a busted knee. My other by this point had sped off over the horizon. I wouldn't see him again till the finish line.
The energy literally sapped from my body. I could barely get out of the 'granny' ring even when I wasn't climbing. Many of the hills had me off the bike and walking.
Then finally, after about 22 miles, a flat section. I cruised along the A25, slowly picking up speed and regaining some kind of psychological and physical strength. I could do this!
Who was I kidding? The only reason the course had flattened out was because I'd missed a turn up the next steep, torturous hill. Admitting defeat, I pulled my iphone out to see how I could negotiate my way back to the car. I'd continued 5 miles past where I was meant to turn off and there was no way I was doubling back to re-join the course.
I then spent the next hour and a half, slowly covering the 11 miles back to the car. More unclimbable hills. Stopping constantly to check my position. Mentally, I was ruined. I was in a bad place.
The route to Paris of course is planned to be as flat as possible, not as hilly. That said, I feel pretty dejected right now. I failed to complete 40 miles. On day 3 of the Paris trip, I've got to cover 100. And that's after cycling 60 and 70 miles on the previous 2 days.
I'm planning to get out on my own this weekend and strike off a 50 mile ride.
Hopefully then I can start looking forward to Paris again.
On paper, it seemed easy enough. 40 miles through the rolling Kent countryside. I've done 40 miles before several times. I've done it on my heavy old hybrid with it's chunky wheels. This will be a breeze on the road bike. I thought.
How wrong could I be?!
It has to be said my preparation for the event could have been better. After getting hammered on Thursday night watching Editors, I then decided to down a good few on Friday night at a friend's leaving do, then Saturday night, I was on the beer again at a poker night at my folks place. A poker night that went on the wee hours. I of course, was tucked up in bed by 11pm, but you try sleeping when downstairs all you can hear are screams of delight about Full Houses and High Straights.
So with barely 3 hours sleep, off I drive at the crack of dawn to Hildenbrough to take on what was clearly the hardest cycle I've ever attempted.
From the outset, I quickly realised that this ride was all about the hills. One slow painful ascent after another, punctuated with all too brief descents at break neck speed to the bottom of the next hill.
After 6 miles I'd lost one of my cycling companions to a busted knee. My other by this point had sped off over the horizon. I wouldn't see him again till the finish line.
The energy literally sapped from my body. I could barely get out of the 'granny' ring even when I wasn't climbing. Many of the hills had me off the bike and walking.
Then finally, after about 22 miles, a flat section. I cruised along the A25, slowly picking up speed and regaining some kind of psychological and physical strength. I could do this!
Who was I kidding? The only reason the course had flattened out was because I'd missed a turn up the next steep, torturous hill. Admitting defeat, I pulled my iphone out to see how I could negotiate my way back to the car. I'd continued 5 miles past where I was meant to turn off and there was no way I was doubling back to re-join the course.
I then spent the next hour and a half, slowly covering the 11 miles back to the car. More unclimbable hills. Stopping constantly to check my position. Mentally, I was ruined. I was in a bad place.
The route to Paris of course is planned to be as flat as possible, not as hilly. That said, I feel pretty dejected right now. I failed to complete 40 miles. On day 3 of the Paris trip, I've got to cover 100. And that's after cycling 60 and 70 miles on the previous 2 days.
I'm planning to get out on my own this weekend and strike off a 50 mile ride.
Hopefully then I can start looking forward to Paris again.
Wednesday 17 March 2010
Feed the plants and you will die! Or will you?
So the story nobody can escape today is that of two teenagers from Scunthorpe who have died allegedly as a result of taking Mephedrone.
I say allegedly because as yet, we have no facts whatsoever about this case. The police believe the deaths to be attributed to Mephedrone and that alone is deemed suitable clinical evidence to prompt the Tabloid press into a salacious frenzy of reporting about how this new killer drug needs to be banned.
In keeping with the other draconian and ineffective drug laws we have in this country, Mephedrone was always going to be banned eventually anyway. Nothing this good was ever going to remain legal forever. This case will simply expedite the process.
But what about the facts? As David Nutt, former Chief Drug Advisor to the Government found out recently to his peril, the facts are at best ignored and at worst can cost you your job.
There are far too many unanswered questions with this case to make any rational conclusion.
How much Mephedrone did they take? (Any chemical is dangerous if the correct dosage is ignored)
What if any other drugs were taken? (Alcohol certainly and reports are coming through that they were also taking Methadone, the Heroin substitute)
What was the actual cause of death?
Has the batch they took been lab tested?
This all smacks of the hysteria that was whipped up when E first hit the headlines in the early 90's. Everybody remembers the story of Leah Betts, who died taking an E at her own birthday party. (Strangely, nobody can recount the ONE high profile case of someone drinking themselves to death) It turned out that is was water, not the toxicity of the E that killed her. I don't think the Tabloid press ever ran this story though.
Yet the aforementioned Mr Nutt's advice when asked about Mephedrone recently, was that people would be better off taking MDMA (E) because it's been more thoroughly tested and is known to be relatively safe.
The one small problem here is that if you followed Mr Nutt's advice, you could end up in jail. Mephedrone is legal, available over the Internet and is about a fifth of the price. It's not quite as good as E, but hey, for a tenner a gram, it'll do.
This all points to the wider problem with our drug laws. Certainly the way Mephedrone is freely sold now is not the answer. Anybody of any age with access to a credit card can order a bag of white powder over the Internet which will arrive within a couple of days. It's labelled 'not for human consumption' so why would there be any dosage advice on the packet? And even if there was, how many people have electronic scales in their house to make sure they get their dosage right?
Yet prohibition doesn't work either. Now you still have all of the above problems, but you have to interact with criminals to get your supply and more than likely what you get is going to be cut with heaven knows what. You just hope it's something benign like talc (And it almost always is, by the way. It's not good for business to knowingly harm your customers).
People are going to take drugs. The Governments of the world have been fighting a losing battle for decades, yet drug use, particularly among young people continues to rise.
So the answer has to be decriminalisation, regulation and education. The supply can be tightly controlled to stop drugs easily getting into the hands of children in the same way alcohol and tabacco is now. Dosage information should be readily available and 'hits' sold in the correct doses to stop people making lethal mistakes. Honest and factual information should be presented to consumers to help them make informed choices about what they put in their bodies. And best of all for the Treasury, huge sums of tax revenue can be raised. Boy, do we need that right now.
Of course, it's never going to happen. We'll be fighting The War On Drugs probably as long as we're fighting the equally absurd War On Terror. No Government will risk upsetting Middle England with their Daily Mail drip fed blinkered view of the world - it would be political suicide.
So you have a choice. Take the police's advice and throw all your Mephedrone away and get yourself down to the local A&E, or quickly order as much as you can afford now, because once it's gone, it's gone.
I say allegedly because as yet, we have no facts whatsoever about this case. The police believe the deaths to be attributed to Mephedrone and that alone is deemed suitable clinical evidence to prompt the Tabloid press into a salacious frenzy of reporting about how this new killer drug needs to be banned.
In keeping with the other draconian and ineffective drug laws we have in this country, Mephedrone was always going to be banned eventually anyway. Nothing this good was ever going to remain legal forever. This case will simply expedite the process.
But what about the facts? As David Nutt, former Chief Drug Advisor to the Government found out recently to his peril, the facts are at best ignored and at worst can cost you your job.
There are far too many unanswered questions with this case to make any rational conclusion.
How much Mephedrone did they take? (Any chemical is dangerous if the correct dosage is ignored)
What if any other drugs were taken? (Alcohol certainly and reports are coming through that they were also taking Methadone, the Heroin substitute)
What was the actual cause of death?
Has the batch they took been lab tested?
This all smacks of the hysteria that was whipped up when E first hit the headlines in the early 90's. Everybody remembers the story of Leah Betts, who died taking an E at her own birthday party. (Strangely, nobody can recount the ONE high profile case of someone drinking themselves to death) It turned out that is was water, not the toxicity of the E that killed her. I don't think the Tabloid press ever ran this story though.
Yet the aforementioned Mr Nutt's advice when asked about Mephedrone recently, was that people would be better off taking MDMA (E) because it's been more thoroughly tested and is known to be relatively safe.
The one small problem here is that if you followed Mr Nutt's advice, you could end up in jail. Mephedrone is legal, available over the Internet and is about a fifth of the price. It's not quite as good as E, but hey, for a tenner a gram, it'll do.
This all points to the wider problem with our drug laws. Certainly the way Mephedrone is freely sold now is not the answer. Anybody of any age with access to a credit card can order a bag of white powder over the Internet which will arrive within a couple of days. It's labelled 'not for human consumption' so why would there be any dosage advice on the packet? And even if there was, how many people have electronic scales in their house to make sure they get their dosage right?
Yet prohibition doesn't work either. Now you still have all of the above problems, but you have to interact with criminals to get your supply and more than likely what you get is going to be cut with heaven knows what. You just hope it's something benign like talc (And it almost always is, by the way. It's not good for business to knowingly harm your customers).
People are going to take drugs. The Governments of the world have been fighting a losing battle for decades, yet drug use, particularly among young people continues to rise.
So the answer has to be decriminalisation, regulation and education. The supply can be tightly controlled to stop drugs easily getting into the hands of children in the same way alcohol and tabacco is now. Dosage information should be readily available and 'hits' sold in the correct doses to stop people making lethal mistakes. Honest and factual information should be presented to consumers to help them make informed choices about what they put in their bodies. And best of all for the Treasury, huge sums of tax revenue can be raised. Boy, do we need that right now.
Of course, it's never going to happen. We'll be fighting The War On Drugs probably as long as we're fighting the equally absurd War On Terror. No Government will risk upsetting Middle England with their Daily Mail drip fed blinkered view of the world - it would be political suicide.
So you have a choice. Take the police's advice and throw all your Mephedrone away and get yourself down to the local A&E, or quickly order as much as you can afford now, because once it's gone, it's gone.
Saturday 13 March 2010
Time to get serious
It's been a while since I checked in and already a quarter of the year is gone. Highlights so far have been a couple of great gigs I've been to, seeing both Hot Chip and the XX in the past few weeks. I've got a real taste for music at the moment with more gigs and festivals lined up for the coming months. Happy times!
I've also been busy pestering anybody who will listen for sponsorship for my upcoming cycle ride to Paris for Marie Curie. The fantastic news is that I've already reached my target of £1300, so thank you to everyone who has chipped in. You'll see the odd Facebook and Twitter post over the next couple of months, but if you've managed to escape a personal email / Facebook message /BBS PM /Twitter DM then the good news for you is, you got away with it!
Still, at least now I've hit my target, you can be assured that any money you chip in now will all go 100% to the charity. I know some people have made a few sly digs about having to pay for my weekend break away :)
Now, all the money has been raised, I now need to switch my focus to actually being able to cover the distance in May!
The absolutely disgusting winter we've had has certainly cut my training back. As soon as the snow and ice disappeared, it seemed to rain non-stop for a month. Then when the sun finally came out, the temperatures dropped again. I took a spin round Richmond Park last Sunday in biting cold conditions with a headwind ripping in to me seemingly all the way.
My first proper training event is now booked. A 65km ramble through the hilly Kent countryside, starting at Hildenborough on the 28th March. I'm hoping to get another two proper organised rides in after this before I head off to Paris.
So once again, thanks for everyone who has sponsored me so far. Others can get involved at http://original.justgiving.com/kevintuk
Word out motherlickers
I've also been busy pestering anybody who will listen for sponsorship for my upcoming cycle ride to Paris for Marie Curie. The fantastic news is that I've already reached my target of £1300, so thank you to everyone who has chipped in. You'll see the odd Facebook and Twitter post over the next couple of months, but if you've managed to escape a personal email / Facebook message /BBS PM /Twitter DM then the good news for you is, you got away with it!
Still, at least now I've hit my target, you can be assured that any money you chip in now will all go 100% to the charity. I know some people have made a few sly digs about having to pay for my weekend break away :)
Now, all the money has been raised, I now need to switch my focus to actually being able to cover the distance in May!
The absolutely disgusting winter we've had has certainly cut my training back. As soon as the snow and ice disappeared, it seemed to rain non-stop for a month. Then when the sun finally came out, the temperatures dropped again. I took a spin round Richmond Park last Sunday in biting cold conditions with a headwind ripping in to me seemingly all the way.
My first proper training event is now booked. A 65km ramble through the hilly Kent countryside, starting at Hildenborough on the 28th March. I'm hoping to get another two proper organised rides in after this before I head off to Paris.
So once again, thanks for everyone who has sponsored me so far. Others can get involved at http://original.justgiving.com/kevintuk
Word out motherlickers
Thursday 14 January 2010
Booze Price Hikes? No bad thing.
For those you haven't picked up on this story, the Government are toying with the idea of setting a minimum retail price per unit of alcohol in a bid to reduce irresponsible drinking habits. For a long time now, supermarkets have been selling booze at a loss to get people through the door and the fact remains, that if you want to get absolutely hammered, you can easily do so for less than a fiver.
The obvious outcry from responsible drinkers, is why should they have to pay an increased price for their tipple because others can't behave. Now I'm sure my position on this is going to surprise a few people, but let me try and explain.
Firstly, we need to consider than alcohol is a drug. It may be a legal drug, but legality is largely irrelevant (Let's face it, would alcohol be legal if it was discovered today?). Is it not logical to link the price of an alcoholic beverage to the quantity of the active drug contained within it? If we could suddenly buy super strength cocaine for less money than a standard gram of cocaine, would we not expect this to create greater problems within society? The fact is, illicit drug use is to some extent controlled by it's cost and I don't see why this shouldn't be the case for alcohol.
Secondly, most of us who drink responsibly, don't choose our poison of choice based on the alcohol content. I happen to prefer 'premium' strength (not super strength) lager, but that's because it tastes better. When I buy a bottle of wine, I generally don't even look at the alcohol content. I know the grapes and regions I prefer. Again, it's a taste issue. Nobody in their right mind buys super strength lager at 59p a can, or the cheapest, strongest plonk on the shelf for any other reason, than they want to get as drunk as possible, as quickly as possible and as cheaply as possible.
For most of us, this legislation will have a little or no effect on our pockets whatsoever. Whether or not it goes anywhere towards fulfilling its objectives, is an entirely different question altogether.
The obvious outcry from responsible drinkers, is why should they have to pay an increased price for their tipple because others can't behave. Now I'm sure my position on this is going to surprise a few people, but let me try and explain.
Firstly, we need to consider than alcohol is a drug. It may be a legal drug, but legality is largely irrelevant (Let's face it, would alcohol be legal if it was discovered today?). Is it not logical to link the price of an alcoholic beverage to the quantity of the active drug contained within it? If we could suddenly buy super strength cocaine for less money than a standard gram of cocaine, would we not expect this to create greater problems within society? The fact is, illicit drug use is to some extent controlled by it's cost and I don't see why this shouldn't be the case for alcohol.
Secondly, most of us who drink responsibly, don't choose our poison of choice based on the alcohol content. I happen to prefer 'premium' strength (not super strength) lager, but that's because it tastes better. When I buy a bottle of wine, I generally don't even look at the alcohol content. I know the grapes and regions I prefer. Again, it's a taste issue. Nobody in their right mind buys super strength lager at 59p a can, or the cheapest, strongest plonk on the shelf for any other reason, than they want to get as drunk as possible, as quickly as possible and as cheaply as possible.
For most of us, this legislation will have a little or no effect on our pockets whatsoever. Whether or not it goes anywhere towards fulfilling its objectives, is an entirely different question altogether.
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