Jeff Jones's bilgespot.com: May 2007

Sunday, May 27, 2007

Oh no, not again

"Wiggle your big toe."

I recalled Uma Thurman's words in Kill Bill Vol. 1 as I lay in a bed in Salisbury hospital on Saturday. It wasn't a particularly hard thing to do, because unlike Uma, I wasn't coming out of a five year coma. It was just a way of passing the time while I waited to get out of there.

It's meant to be bad karma to kill a bird on the way to a cyclosportif. And also to see only one magpie without uttering something that I can't quite remember now. We (Kirsty, Craig and I) managed to do both on the way to the first stage of the Tour of Wessex. I think I ended up bearing the brunt of the bad karma with Kirsty getting off with a cold. Even on the way back from hospital, we nearly killed another magpie (the karma behind us got it) and a dog. So I can now put in that quote about "your karma ran over my dogma."

Things were shaping up pretty well before I crashed on a speed hump coming out of Stourhead House, 25km into the event. It was a beautful day, with over 1000 starters in this 100 miler. We'd all left Sutton Montis at around 7:30, so were only 10 minutes behind the first riders. I was moving along at a decent pace, and had an average of over 30km/h for the first 25 clicks, which included 500m of climbing.

After climbing up to Alfred's Tower, we were directed into the grounds of Stourhead House. Very pretty, although it included 200m of gravel/dirt road. I remember when I recce'd this ride with the organiser earlier this year, he asked me whether he should keep this bit in, because there were complaints last year about the off-road section.

"Yeah, leave it in. The grounds are really nice," was my well-considered response. The section isn't actually that bad. It's more or less a driveway up to the house with no potholes. Road tyres can handle it.

I also recall (now) that the organiser pointed out a hard-to-spot speedbump on the exit road out of the grounds. It was shaded by trees and wasn't marked in any way, so it was rather surprising to a casual cyclist. Of course, being quite casual myself I'd forgotten about this tiny detail as I gathered speed and changed hand positions from my brake hoods to my drops. Hitting a speedbump when your weight is forward, you're going downhill and you don't have your hands on the bars is generally a bad thing.

My face hit the ground first, followed by the rest of me and then the bike (which was relatively unscathed. Phew). I wasn't sure whether I'd broken any teeth but I did know that my lip was bleeding a lot, my knee had a large hole in it, I had grazes everywhere and I couldn't walk. I shuffled off the road as people stopped to help and I knew that I wouldn't be riding any more that day. One guy called the emergency number, and we were promised help in "10-15 minutes" but it took a while longer before two emergency service bikes turned up. They couldn't really do much for me anyway. But by this stage, Craig, another friend George and Kirsty had all arrived and had phoned an ambulance.

Kirsty wasn't feeling too crash hot and decided to call it quits, and thankfully hung around until the ambo arrived. After I was taken away at about 9am, she tried the emergency number again, but eventually had to catch a taxi back to the start. She wasn't impressed. My bike was retrieved later on.

I was taken to the hospital just outside Salisbury at Odstock - coincidentally where Lucy was born - because the accident happened in Wiltshire county. There was a hospital a lot closer than that, but due to the stupidly archaic system they have here, you have to go to the one in whatever county you're in. Chris, one of the ambulance crew, also thought this was silly. But, while inhaling large amounts of nitrous oxide, I had a good chat to him as he was a keen cycling fan up until about 10 years ago. As a point of note, N2O is what they give to pregnant women in labour. It makes your head spin and has a slight relaxing effect, but it wears off in a few minutes so you can inhale as much as you like.

I have to give a big double thumbs up to the hospital staff, who were numerous and quite competent. There was one doctor who examined me and stitched me up, and four very nice nurses who cleaned all of my wounds. It definitely wasn't all bad!

I didn't break anything, but my lip required about six stitches as there was a flap of skin that had come loose. There wasn't too much tissue loss so I shouldn't have a big scar. It's still very swollen and blood-caked.

My knee needed three stitches, although they were going to just bandage it. It was quite a deep hole and they were debating whether to stitch over "empty space", deciding eventually that it was a good idea. I also got some clear dressing on the puncture wounds in my left hamstring, where I'd somehow dug into the chainwheel. The rest of the grazes (elbows, knuckles, left shin, buttocks) could sort themselves out.

One moment of levity came when they were trying to take my pulse. The nurse had a machine that attached to my finger, but it wasn't registering anything.

"Does this mean that I'm dead?" I asked.
"Yes," she said. "But you can still talk."

We were in stitches.

I got moved to 'short stay' while I waited for The Others to come and reclaim me. I was the only one there for a while, until they brought in a 96 year-old woman who'd broken her arm and really didn't want to be in hospital. "I don't want to be here," she would say. "But you have to!" her son and daughter-in-law would chorus in response. It wasn't until the doc came in and told her that she'd broken her arm that she realised.

There were also a couple of kids and their parents. One of the kids had chipped his elbow and was yelling a lot, prompting his sister to do the same. In true English fashion, the parents weren't particularly sympathetic. "Shut up, or I'll take you home." (continued screaming) "Stop crying, or you'll go home." (continued crying) "Do you want to go home? I mean it!" (etc.) The kid only quietened down when the parent asked "What's wrong?" Funny that.

The only other down side to my stay in hospital was when I ate a cheddar cheese and spring onion sandwich. I was on a drip, but the nurses were really insistent that I eat something "soft". Now, bread can be soft when it's fresh, but in my experience lengthy periods of refrigeration do not preserve freshness. Anyway, I had a few sustaining cups of tea.

I did make it home late afternoon thanks to Kirsty and Craig, to whom I owe several beverages. Neither of them were planning on riding stage 2 on Sunday, as the weather was going to be - and is now - crap. 10 degrees and rain. Welcome to almost-summer.

I have to go to the doctor on Tuesday to get the stitches looked at, and there's a fair chance that I'll be riding again before the end of the week. Annoyingly, I can't really walk beause of a bruise on my calf.

Now, what's on telly on Sunday at midday? Nothing.

Thursday, May 24, 2007

Just another blog in the wall

I cannot beloive that June is almost upon us. That means it'll soon be July and then August. I think September comes next, but my memory is dim. We'll cross that week when we come to it.

I nearly starved to death this week because I couldn't find time to go shopping. Post-work beers, post-work work and of course pre-work rides took up the available hours. Work did go slightly insane for a change, but it was good because we made several great leaps forward towards our site launch. Or is that forwards toward, or forwards towards?

The food situation was alleviated by beer and chess on Monday. Our designer can play chess to a reasonable standard, which means he beat me hands down in our first game and I just managed to get one back in the second. Apart from three pints of beer, I had a small tub of yoghurt for dinner (seeing as it was late and all). It didn't seem to slow me down next morning, as I knocked another 10 seconds off my quickest time up Kingsdown. It's down to 7'08 now. I should be able to get under 7'00.

More beer was the only option on Tuesday, followed by the remains of a curry. Wednesday was just silly at work. Fortunately, a fine Schwartz burger and chips sufficed to fill the gaping chasm that is my stomach. These are actually alright.

Thursday: back to normal. Fridge refilled and now partially emptied.

Shorts were in order today, for the first time this year. The weather should hold for Saturday, which will make the Tour of Wessex a whole lotta fun. I'm going to start about an hour behind everyone and do it at my own pace, aiming for about 30km/h (it's 100 miles and very hilly).

Misselanie:

I'm in the UK's Official Tour Guide next month (looking slightly scary) as part of an ad for our new site. That's going to be fun once it launches.

Another good cafe in Bath: Metropolitan, above Bloomsbury on Milsom St. Unfortunately, the coffee quality in Fopp has gone a bit random.

Saturday, May 19, 2007

Time warp

Why is it that the last hour of jetlag takes so long to get rid of? I've woken up between 3:43am and 4:47am for the last few days, and generally can't keep my eyes open past 9pm. Anyway, it means I can ride more in the mornings, so that's good.

I did my first long ride in five weeks today. 163km at an average of 31 clicks, not too hilly. After feeling good but slow all week on the hills, things started to work properly again and (with a tailwind) I knocked 15 seconds off my best time up Bannerdown without going too much into the red. I think I'll be back to normal by the Tour of Wessex next weekend. It's not a race, only a cyclosportif, so I'm planning on doing just the Saturday stage at a semi-hard pace. Then I'll get back into the Wednesday 10 mile TTs, plus more cyclosportifs in June.

I've hit upon a good call screening technique, because my el cheapo caballero phone doesn't show who is calling. Given that only ma and pa will call me on my landline, I can safely ignore all other calls. TalkTalk tried to convert me to their internet service because it would be cheaper, but I managed to stall them for a few days. I know it's them ringing me now. But I won't crack. Hah!

I've half a mind to change back to BT, which is actually cheaper than TalkTalk if you don't make any calls. At least BT doesn't ring you up and harass you. That qualifies as evil in my as yet unfinished book.

Still reading Junky, by William S. Burroughs, and Weasel Words by Don Watson. The latter is hilarious and educational. The former is easy to read but turns the stomach.

Back into time warp mode: Does anyone remember Dead Eyes Opened by Severed Heads? The 1994 remix was arguably better. I finally found out where the story came from. It was a real murder case (google Death on the Crumbles) and the narrator in the song was Edgar Lustgarten, who used to present a British TV show called Scales of Justice.

Soon the internet will enable us to look back to the big bang.

Wednesday, May 16, 2007

The Wedding

Just about married
© Jeff Jones

Typing this at 3:40am, Sydney time, I realise I have the dubious pleasure of being jetlagged twice in one week, thanks to a necessary but brief trip to Australia. Necessary because it was Lucy and Pete's much anticipated wedding, and there was no way I was gunna miss that. Brief because I was only down under for a week. But in that space of time (combining dimensions there), I caught up with most friends and relations and even became a brother-in-law. Woohoo!

The wedding was months in the planning and it was worth it. It was a beautiful sunny Sydney day, and you couldn't have asked for better weather. But we did anyway.

The ceremony was a simple but formal one in the Redfern registry office. It was quite cool when L+P were pronounced "man and wife"! I witnessed it along with Pete's bro Murray, who wore his kilt for the occasion and was unfortunately the only representative of his family who made it out from the UK. The only minor hitch (joke) was waiting for our silver service cabs not to turn up afterwards. We eventually found our own. In the meantime, we could soak up the ambience of the methadone clinic as we stood on Regent Street in our finery, being admired by passers by.

The pics were taken in Petersham Park by Carmen, our professional and friendly photographer. She didn't make the newlyweds do silly things like peep out from behind trees, so I would recommend her for future engagements. We were all starving by the time she finished, and retired to Ma and Pa's for Greek-style comestibles.

The main event was the evening bash at the Park Hyatt in The Rocks. It affords 270° views of the Harbour Bridge, Opera House, Circular Quay and city skyline. It can afford this because rooms are $600 a night. They're noice though.

We had 60 people on one covered rooftop, and fortunately no-one fell off. I was asked to MC for the occasion, which meant I could draw on all my experience in the area. This equated to zero, so I hope it didn't show too much. Dad's speech was excellent and very well received, while Lucy, Pete and Karin also gave some good words.

After the speeches, we got stuck into the food. The wedding cake was of the chocolate mud variety and I highly approved of this.

Naturally, Lucy and Pete were the stars of the night and they deserved it after being married and all. They cracked in the end and went to bed, while a few of us, including a large vase of flowers, retired to the downstairs lounge for some wind-down drinks, eventually making it home.

It was a grand day and night and one that will definitely go down in the family record books.

Alas, the next day I was back on the plane to London. I passed the time by getting two hours sleep, watching four movies (Stranger Than Fiction (quirkily funny), Deja Vu (OK-ish in a 5/10 sort of way), Letters from Iwo Jima (good) and The Page Turner (loved it)), getting annoyed with the couple next to me on the Sydney-Bangkok leg, and drinking Qantas coffee, which has been rated by the Welsh as being some of the best in the world. It's right up there with Thai coffee.

We arrived in London at 7am and it was cloudy and wet. "Clearly, this is London," I thought, remembering the toucan's flight home in Colonel Pewter. And yes, it took an hour to get our baggage back from the baggage retrieval system that causes so much concern in Heathrow...