If It's Not Whippets, It's Buzzards

The other day I bought a new drinks bottle for my bike to replace my old mouldy one. The very next day it’s at college full of blackcurrant squash with Daughter. So I have to steal it back this morning.

It’s a bit traumatic on the road this morning. If it's not whippets, it's buzzards. Old buzzards that is, on bikes. Wizened old men who are actually incredibly fit and take great delight in burning off the allegedly fitter younger cyclists. One zooms past me in Spondon this morning. In fact he undertakes me at the roundabout, clearly I was holding him up. Problem is when I'm in old buzzard territory, I have a feeling I won't be burning anyone off.

L checks the Warwick Uni webcam. It's chucking it down. So I presume that weather is heading our way, just in time for cycling home.

Thankfully, I get home before the rain starts but the journey home is still not incident free. I’m passed by a not-quite-so-old buzzard. Probably around my sort of vintage in fact. There really is no hope for me.

Squash for the fourth week in a row, I'm spoiling him. I win the first game, easily. Which unsettles me more than it does him; lulls me into a false sense of security and its all downhill from there. Not helped by some very tired legs. Too many buzzard problems.

You can’t beat a good rumour and allegedly Rock City, possibly the Rescue Rooms and perhaps the entire DHP stable have been wiped out by fire. DHP own most of Nottingham’s music venues.

They quickly put up a correction on their website. Skunk Anansie were not fried alive last night. Everything is still standing and fully functional. Good job, we’re there twice next week. L is disappointed, she was looking forward to crawling through the charred ruins of Rock City to get our latest batch of tickets.



It’s a nearby Indian or was it bar, that went up in smoke. Formerly known as Posh Spice or was it Templars? We went there ages ago when it was called Anilas. It closes and reopens every six months. Won't be reopening for a while this time.



(Thursday 18th November)

Bad Apples

A damp, chilly morning. Ideal cycling conditions. Not.

Thankfully the rain seemed to clear up as I go along. It was still cold though and by the time I get to work my knees still haven’t warmed up. All the same I’m sticking with the shorts, I’m not going back to long trousers, it’s supposed to be May after all.

I pull up at one of the roundabouts on Pride Park between a cyclist on a MTB who has his mobile phone glued to his ear. Surely he’s not going to go around the roundabout like that, one handed, still on the phone? Oh yes he is. It’s bad apples like him that give cyclists a bad name. It would serve him well right if a motorist came around that roundabout doing exactly the same thing. It also wouldn’t be a surprise, there’s sure to be one along any minute.

Doggo has developed a limp, I think he’s just trying to get out of training tonight. Little does he know... we’re not going. We have a night off. MD won’t completely escape because he’ll have to put up with a brief refresher course in the garden but he’ll get a park session afterwards to compensate. Mysteriously Doggo’s limp has disappeared long before we reach the park gates.

Before then I also manage to fit in a rare session in the pool. To my surprise I even remember how to swim properly. I was tempted with the pool at the new Djanogly Leisure Centre, which they have built only a mile or so from the one at John Carroll, which seems an odd distribution of facilities but at least it’s handy for us. Unfortunately they don’t do an early laned session on a Wednesday whereas John Carroll does, so I stick to the usual.

There are a couple of big football games tonight both of which go to extra time. Fulham fall at the final hurdle and lose their UEFA Europa League thingy to Athletico Madrid through a very late goal. Whereas Leicester City go out of the play-offs on penalties to Cardiff City. So we keep hold of both of our east midlands derbies for next year.