A Long Standing Tradition

Yesterday’s ice gives way to an old favourite, rain. So I bike. As I meander through the estate I can see L and the boys up ahead of me. I can also hear them, well one of them, MD. He seems to be in good voice this morning.

I pull up at a red light in Spondon but the cyclist behind me simply carries on regardless, as do the two cars behind him. I know it’s a long standing tradition that at every set of traffic lights at least two cars jump the red light but the cyclist should have known better and all of us cyclists get the blame for that. He’ll stop one day though, when he meets those two cars coming the other way.

One of the events I’d fancied doing for a while was the Humber Duathlon in April but now I’m rapidly going off the idea. Mainly because there were only 27 entries in the last one, so I could end up doing the event and hardly seeing a soul for most of it. This defeats half the object of doing a ‘race’. This April’s event would be the third running of it. They had 41 entries for the first one but then it dropped to 27 for the second... so it’s getting less popular, either that or they lost the other 14 over the side of the Humber Bridge... I expect it's a bit blowy going over the bridge. Depending on where they land, that would make it a triathlon, technically speaking.



I was describing to L the other day my plan for avoiding a head on collision when a car overtakes another car and is coming towards you on your side of the road. This is when cycling. Basically it’s a case of getting ready to hurl one’s self sideways and home there’s a soft landing, like a hedge, there. I nearly got to put it into practice today on my way home. It was a close run thing.

My eventful journey continued a few miles down the road when I got a puncture going through Bramcote. I pull over and install a new tube, getting nice and cold doing so. I do the usual check for nails, shards of glass etc, which may be imbedded in the tyre. Nothing. I do notice that tyre is very thin though. Is that a hole? Hmmm, to be honest I have known that these tyres were on the way out, since... well, before Christmas. Half a mile down the road, whoosh, all the goes out of the tyre again. Another tube blown. It must be the tyre. I have another tube but I don’t wish to waste it, so I walk the remaining mile home.

All this means that I don’t get my swim again but still I get home at almost exactly the same time as if I’d been. Not the best day on the bike.

Going Down A Storm

It seemed very icy as we walked back from the cinema last night and if anything it is worse this morning, so I duck out of my planned cycle this morning. It wouldn’t have been pleasant on the bike and it was particularly cold. My feet would have taken hours to thaw out. Instead of cycling I take the bus in and run home. I miss out on the weekly freebie on the Red Arrow, as I’ve already scanned my smart card. They really ought to put a sign up when they’re not charging, as they often seem not to.

After a successful gig the other night Daughter now plans to model herself on Emilie Autumn and her band 'The Bloody Crumpets'... This should go down a storm next time she goes to her father’s.



Just a ‘short’ run tonight as I have to negotiate MD through his training later. I run from work but miss-time my bus chase. It goes past me just before it disappears for its trawl around the housing estates, by my estimation it is four minutes early. I have approximately five seconds to decide whether to jump on or no. I don’t. Instead I race along the main road in an attempt to head it off. I don’t make it. I see if emerging from the estate and it’s now a good thirty seconds ahead of me and still running early. Damn. It’s gone. I run to the end of Borrowash, around five miles in all, and wait for the next bus. This according, to the electronic signs, will be twelve minutes and late.

I get cold waiting and don’t warm up when I get off the bus at the other end. It’s a chilly last three miles to home even with all the layers I have with me on.

At training, MD has it on him and gets caged for being disruptive and barking. I can almost imagine L at home giving a smug smile and muttering ‘told you so’. Hmmm, he’s not usually like this with me.

Apparently Some People Find It Useful

After a late morning session on the park I take on the role of computer engineer on call and head off down to prison with L. L has affectionately started calling her work prison, as she spends so much time there. I’ve offered to attempt to fix her new computer for her. Windows 7 is refusing to talk to her printer; whilst her old computer running XP is refusing to talk to the printer it has now been assigned. A definite driver issue. Now if only I can find what they’ve renamed and moved in Windows 7. Why do they always have to do that? Alter things that were fine before. Fixing her new machine proves infinitely easier than fixing her old one which is possibly the slowest machine I’ve ever met and I’ve met a few.

Whilst I’m there I show her how to get rid of that ‘ribbon’ thing in Office. Apparently some people find it useful... can’t imagine how.

Later we head down to Broadway for a film. Tonight’s choice, again one of L’s, is called ‘Precious’. It is based on a book called ‘Push’ by Sapphire.

It's 1987 in Harlem and we are introduced to a 16-year old black girl by the name of Claireece ‘Precious’ Jones (Gabourey Sidibe). She is seriously obese, illiterate and lacking a whole host of social skills. We are told this is because, in the sorry little apartment that she calls home, she is being monstrously mistreated.



Her mother, Mary (Mo'Nique), is an unhinged and unstable woman, who is unemployed, probably unemployable, and subsists on welfare payments. She treats Precious as her own personal slave and thanks her for this by telling her how stupid and worthless she is. This doesn’t exactly do much for the girl’s self esteem, which is already on the floor. For them both, life consists of watching TV, eating crap food, the odd arguments, a spot of physical abuse dished out by the mother, the occasional visit from the welfare officer and oh, did I mention TV. During the brief visits from the welfare officer normality is attempted at and deceiving the welfare proves to be terribly easy.



Precious’s only ‘escape’ is to fantasize about a better life but to her that seems to be simply becoming a pop star. She sees herself in this role, being the centre of attention, desired by gorgeous men and cheered by her adoring public as she walks the red carpet. Yes her utmost aspiration is to rise to the level of ‘I’m A Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here’... but then don’t most people these days.

Oh and when she looks in the mirror, she’s no longer fat, or even black for that matter, but an attractive slim white blonde. I’m surprised there hasn’t been a complaint about that...

The story gets darker because it emerges that her mother’s boyfriend, Precious’s father, has been raping Precious since the age of three and seemingly her mother simply held his coat and trousers for him whilst he got on with it. This is despite the fact her boyfriend's sexual preference for her daughter makes her viciously jealous. Both of Precious and of the child that this union ends up producing. Then Precious finds herself expelled from high school when she falls pregnant by him for a second time.

In a way Precious attempts to fight back against her situation and despite resistance from her mother, who simply wants her to join her on the welfare, she moves to an alternative school called ‘Each One Teach One’ where dropouts go to get their GED (General Educational Development).

Her new teacher, the improbably named Blu Rain (Paula Patton), proves inspirational and Precious starts to read and write. Her classmates too, whilst far from perfect themselves; have enough empathy to become supportive friends.



When she returns to the apartment with her second child, her mother intentionally drops him and then sets about Precious. Precious takes her baby and flees but falls down the stairs. She is followed down them by the TV that her deranged Mother hurls after her. It misses her, just. She never goes back.

A few days later at the halfway house where she is now staying, her mother turns up to pass on the cheery news that her boyfriend/Precious’s father/father of her children has died of AIDS. Precious finds out that she herself is HIV positive but her baby isn't.

She has one final showdown with her mother, in the office of her oddly familiar social worker Mrs Weiss. OMG, I though she looked familiar, it’s Mariah Carey. Where her mother attempts to explain her actions. As Mariah looks on in disgust, Precious leaves with her children and tells her mother that she will never see her again.



There's no happy ending. As her teacher points out, if she really wants to better herself, she'll have to put her kids up for adoption and that’s not going to happen. So probably Precious will simply end up being reabsorbed back into the welfare state.

It’s an ok film, bordering on good even. Depressing enough and it's very well performed. Mo'Nique's performance is particularly harrowing and there are other notable performances. Even from Mariah Carey, I knew she must be good at something, and Lenny Kravitz who pops up as a male nurse.

However it all smacks rather too much of it being the awards season. It plays the sympathy card rather too often and perhaps even attempts to make you feel responsible for Precious's life. It also packs as many social issues and stereotypes as it can think of into its two and a bit hours. Now let me see... physical abusive, sexual abuse, incest, teenage pregnancy, HIV, illiteracy, bad parenting, ethnic groups, welfare dependents... and it’s all played to shock but in the end social work and education save the day, maybe.

The Omens Are Not Just Bad...

Two park sessions in two days with the footballs seem to be too much for the dogs. They’re supposed to be outdoor dogs, which allegedly go on forever... simply not true. I cut it short as I’m the only one of the three us still playing football.

Then I head over to Derby with trepidation. My mate predicts the score line Derby 0 Forest 3 and lots of booing. Not sure what he means about ‘lots of booing’, probably be from the Forest fans if they only score three.

Did he say 0-3? I’m not that optimistic. Forest are nineteen games unbeaten, unbeaten away all season and they won 5-0 on Tuesday night whilst Derby were losing at lowly Plymouth... the omens are not just bad, they’re horrific.

Football though is a funny old game, so they say. Which I suppose is why I retain an interest amidst such adversity. Almost from the kick off, the game is all Derby. Forest are, if we’re being honest, largely rubbish and rely on high balls forward, which are probably the one thing our defence can cope easily with. So perhaps it’s not going to be a thrashing, although I still expect Forest to nick it as we simply don’t score goals very often. It’s also a feisty game but only really because we have one of those referees who insist on stoking it up at every opportunity. As if a local Derby needed any spice adding.

Then with twelve minutes to go Rob Hulse powers in a header and Derby have a lead that they manage to hang on to.



There’s even an entertaining bust-up on the touchline over a throw-in as the game headed into stoppage time. As players and staff from both teams piled in, goal scorer Hulse appears in the centre of it, despite already having been substituted five minutes earlier. Afterwards Nigel Clough declined to comment, as he was accused of kneeing Forest manager Billy Davies in the leg during the melee. Excellent stuff, pure comedy. I'm sure they’ll be some great chants emerging in stands about this soon.

In the evening we’re at a party, L's brother's 30th. The bash clashes with one of Daughter’s gigs, Emilie Autumn at Rock City. I’d never heard of her... quick Google... quick Myspace... hmmm... she looks interesting.



I would quite like to have gone and been an embarrassing parent there but never mind.

A quick perusal of the menu for L's brother's do informs me that it’s a post-Christmas party... which means they're serving Turkey with all the trimmings and Christmas pudding on the 30th January! Honestly how long does this Christmas lark go on for these days? Or is this the start of next year’s build up. I bet there will be some saddo sitting there already saying ‘Phew, I've just finished my Christmas shopping’.

We resist the temptation to turn up in reindeer antlers and have a pretty good evening. As good as possible considering it’s over on the outskirts of Derby and we end up driving. We leave just before eleven and drop Son off at home before slipping into town for a few, thanks to everywhere being open until 1am these days. Although we seem to tumble from one 30th party to another, as there’s the dregs of one still going on in the Ropewalk. Just hope Geoffrey didn’t mind us gate-crashing.

I Don't Like The Look Of That

I take the bus in to work. It’s big run day today and I’m planning on running 12 miles tonight. This is all training for the Kilomathon and I notice that they have now put up the route on the internet



and an elevation map.



Which I don't like the look of, at all. It’s uphill all the way. I suppose I should have known that but all my training has so far been, although along parts of the actual race route, in the opposite, eastbound direction, e.g. downhill.

So it’s all the more worrying that when I run the route after work, backwards and downhill, my pace is terribly slow. At this rate I won’t break two hours for the course and will struggle to make 2.20 but at least I seem to cope with the distance ok. My legs feel ok until I try and up the pace in the last few miles, making those last few miles not pleasant at all. Still I suppose with six weeks to go we’re still in base training territory. Speed can come (maybe) later.

I run 12.5 miles to the centre of Beeston where I meet L who has walked the dogs up and brought me a change of clothes. L threatens to be on the wine tonight, so heads off to raid the nearest cash machine for a wheelbarrow of money. The wine isn’t cheap at the Victoria. I have no such concerns, they have a beer festival on, so the beer choice should be good.

We don’t get a place inside the pub as it’s so busy and end up the huge tent thing they have in the garden there. It’s quite pleasant actually as they have big gas heaters keeping it warm. I sit under one as my body is now haemorrhaging heat at a rate of knots after my exertions. I’m even colder than L for once. Thankfully they have a nice spicy curry on their food menu for me to refuel with. Oh and the beer of course.

Always A Pleasure

L asks if I would take the dogs out this morning. I think L is too crippled by her back injury to do it herself but obviously she wouldn’t admit it.

It’s always a pleasure to walk the boys. Although MD left the house with his nose in the air, constantly looking left and right, and with a ‘let me have em’ attitude written large across his face. Perhaps this is what L is on about when she complains that he’s a pain in the mornings. I sit him down on the pavement outside our house and ask him just what he thinks he’s doing. He’s still not listening and I have to tap him on the nose to get his attention. Meanwhile Doggo rolls his eyes and looks bored; shuffles to the end of his lead and lifts his leg up the nearest gatepost.

Once I have calmed MD and had words about his attitude problem, we continue and the walk then goes ok. We nearly have a ‘situation’ with the usual little black terrier but its owner, rather bizarrely, although perhaps thoughtfully, hid behind a parked car.

I drive to work today, in order to have a pub lunch and therefore I’m well rested and well nourished for squash in the evening. Though I no longer have huge ambitions for our weekly joust on the squash court, if I ever did. I started the year with the simple aspiration to win a game a week but even that hasn’t happened yet. Today, because I haven’t run or cycled, I feel in good shape and I duly get my game.

This does not go down well with my opponent. As tuck away the winning point, his shoulders slump and his jaw hits the floor with a thud. I suppose my lap of honour didn’t help his mood much and he looks about as suicidal as a teenager who’s just been forcibly unplugged from Facebook. He looks so crestfallen I’m not sure whether to get ready to mop up his tears or duck when he hurls his racket at the wall.

That was supposed to be the last game of the match but he talks me into another one, as he doesn’t wish to finish on a low point. Worried that he might go home and put his head in the gas oven I agree. After all I have nothing to lose, having already achieved my aim for the evening. I promptly storm into a commanding lead in that game as well. I hate to think how bad his mood in the pub would be afterwards, had I managed to maintain my advantage... unfortunately I don’t manage it but it’s still a successful night.

Semi Colons

It took a gentle kick yesterday; it takes more of a body slam this morning to get L moving. She does fade as the week goes on. Although come to think of it, she isn’t very good on Mondays either.

L’s not so secretly plotting my next film. There are two films due out soon, both based on books that she’s read, brilliant ones or so she says, but she can't decide which one I'll hate the most. Apparently when I dislike a film I write a much more entertaining review. That’s despite the fact I still get the usual critique from her about my use or rather lack of use of semi colons. This is unwarranted, both the criticism and usually the semi colons. Who needs a semi colon when you can have a full stop? Anyhow, I don’t see a potentially entertaining review being a sufficient reason to take me to more awful films.

As I was looking something up about itunes on the internet today, I came across an article by someone who was moaning about the petty restrictions in the licence agreement. I just had to check to see whether they were correct, and yes they were.

‘You also agree that you will not use these products for any purposes prohibited by United States law, including, without limitation, the development, design, manufacture or production of missiles, or nuclear, chemical or biological weapons.’

(Quoted from the itunes licence agreement)

Yes folks, you cannot use itunes to manufacture missiles or nuclear, chemical or biological weapons. Damn. So what are we supposed to use instead? More to the point, what feature of itunes enables you to do this? My searches so far on google haven’t been very helpful.



As I head off to dog class, L tells me to make the little fatso work hard. The poor mite, now L is been less than complimentary about him. Daughter never has been; she’s been calling him fatso since day one. I promise to try and give him a good work out. Doggo too could do with shedding a bit of his podginess. Then whilst I attempt to trim down the chubby ones, L goes off on a cycle. I text her to say ‘enjoy it’ and promptly get told off for putting the words ‘enjoy’ and ‘bike’ in the same sentence. It’s lucky I didn’t throw a random semi colon in there as well.