Meet the family

Now, needless to say I am pinning my hopes on a career in cycling via the vicarious route of futurestar. Of course it does help that he already has the genetic advantages of my outstanding athletic prowess (sadly laid dormant for too many years and now so clogged in cobwebs that it must be resigned to the 'what might have been' folder of cycling history) and his mother's calm, calculating nature (read that as quietly cut-throat). What also helps as I have recently discovered is that his genetic routes stem to a cycling champion - great granddad (deceased) Charlie Powis. How I would love to say that he was my blood, indeed how I could say this if it wasn't for my solemn oath of journalistic integrity. The fact is that he comes from the other side, the cockney mafia that is my beloved's family.

So, behold these recently unearthed pictures of the man in his prime, circa 1930's, racing, winning and posing (even if we're not blood we still share a common bond in 'le department poseur') at Herne Hill velodrome (DON'T LET IT DIE!!!).

I've said it before and no doubt I will say it many, many more times again, futurestar was born to do it.

Why do I do it?

Behold the latest upgrade - the Garmin Edge 500 (with cadence and heart rate, bien sur). I read about it, looked at it, read about it some more and then decided to buy it after finding the best internet price and getting Cycle Surgery to match it - the best way to buy for those of us who like to physically rather than virtually spend our pennies.

Of course the appeal was the myriad of functions and GPS capabilities (and my inner grimpeur simply MUST know it's gradients) but the reality is that in order to access the myriad one must read the instructions. Alas this is the fundamental flaw in the interface between product and this particular consumer - I HATE READING INSTRUCTIONS. Why can't it just do what I know it can do without me have to ask it??!!

And so it sits patiently on my handlebars awaiting it's first outing and downloading (I have already forgotten my Garmin website password) whereupon I will realise that I already know where I have ridden (how else would I have gotten home?) and that the signs at the top and bottom of each hill can already tell me the gradient.

Will I ever learn?

Eyes as red as the rising sun

A tired post today as I have just returned from a 3 day trip to Tokyo and, even though the sun is shining, don't think I will be turning a pedal today - knackered.

One thing I love about Japan is their cycling culture - totally utilitarian and even the youngest children have bike handling skills that put me to shame as they dodge and weave around the masses (you do get the feeling that we are no better than ants when walking the streets of Shibuya) who busily make their way to wherever. As you'd expect with a nation that keeps a foot in both tradition and the future their is a colossal array of bike styles to ogle and 2 that caught my eye are the classic Vigore brand from Kyoto and the more futuristic commuter styling of Helmz (made by Bridgestone tyres don't-you-know). Both equally cool in their own ways.

Velly intelesting

Raphacaph - the perfect place to watch Cadel on the Strada Bianchi

My beloved fancied a jaunt east to Broadway Market this weekend so the trade off for an hour in urban traffic and mingling with Hackney fixie clones was that we would visit one of the 2 new cycling cafes that have opened up - Look Mum No Hands and the Rapha Clubhouse.

So, after she'd had her wish granted (and I'd had had an amazing black pudding scotch egg) we drove back west and, after driving past L.M.N.H. the decision was made to go to Rapha and save the former for another day ('too many men' was the comment made in my ear as we drove down Old Street - read this as 'geek alert').

Now I make no bones about the fact that I have a love hate relationship with Rapha (as do many if my experience of the snippy comments made to my Rapha wearing friend at last year's Dragon Ride are anything to go by). It does have the image of being elitist city boy clobber but at the same time it is undoubtedly the most well thought out and best quality both in terms of the kit and the way it is presented to the customer.

So, what would the cafe be like? Well, quite simply it is the most well thought out and best quality place you can visit to sip a coffee and watch the Giro. The attention to detail from the top tube inspired picture rail to the pink-papered daily stage reports in the toilet (beats Swisher shooting anytime) is brilliant as is the plethora of magazines and books that are strewn across the communal table for all to thumb as the sip a 'first one is free' flat white.

As with all Rapha things places and events there is always one or two employees who are a little too cool for school but on the whole the place is genuinely welcoming with a 'stay-as-long-as-you-like' atmosphere that means it won't be the last time I visit (not least to have a better look at the Il Campionissimo exhibition downstairs).

However, there is no way that I can finish this post without 2 chapeaus. The first to Cadel for winning what has to be one of the best grand tour stages ever (mud, rain, cobbles - Flanders in Tuscany). And the second to my beloved who selflessly waited in the car for 30 minutes after Futurestars decision to kick-off whilst I watched the end of what I knew would be a historic days racing. Yes, I felt guilty but not THAT guilty. The reason being that in a strange quirk of fate the stage finished in Montalcino - the very same Montalcino that, on a holiday to Tuscany a few years ago, I had earmarked as being the 'monument' place to visit for it's wine credentials only for said beloved to spend the whole visit moaning she felt sick and thoroughly ruining the day - kismet, my darling, kismet.

The Sunday best

Well, I had it all worked out this weekend - my beloved had arranged to treat me to a massage on Saturday and she was having her friend over on Sunday that meant I was free to go off and have a lovely long ride into the Surrey hills. Bliss awaited.

All week I was quietly dreaming of a blonde masseuse gently pummelling me into submission whilst I drifted off to the scent of lavender and, indeed it was a wonderful 90 minutes of relaxation only (a little) spoilt by the fact that the blonde turned out to be dark, and about 4 feet tall - it was like having a squirrel scuttling around me from shoulder to toe, little claws n'all.

On top of this a bit of over excitement a the Oval traffic lights on Friday resulted in a buggered left knee - no blonde on Saturday, no ride on Sunday - damnation!

So, after a lovely Greek roast chicken (believe me this is the ONLY way to roast a chicken - the most low maintenance, high flavour yielding recipe known to man) and a particularly nice bottle of claret (Chateau Larose-Trintaudon, 2001, actually) I thought I would leave the ladies cooing over futurestar and give my 3rd love some attention with a bucket, sponge and degreaser.

I have to say that I F@$%ING LOVE THIS BIKE! To me it is perfection and I feel that I should show it off to you dear reader as I have only ever mentioned it in passing rather than allowed you to bask in it's beauty.

Now, the first thing you will notice is, no doubt, the wheels - yes, they are Zipp 303's - the very same wheels I bleated on about endlessly in 2009. They are both a living symbol of my slack blogging and also a living symbol of my reckless attitude to the financial responsibilities of fatherhood. I apologise for not telling you earlier (and to futurestar for blowing his inheritance). Next you will note the classic geometry of the frame - Extreme C - it's perfection not only because it is simple but also because fatties are unable to sully it's beauty due to a rider weight limit (90kg). All of this is kitted with Campag Record (who needs 11 gears), ITM bars and seatpost topped off with a Prologo saddle.

However, if you think I'm bragging a bit too much click here for the non plus ultra of bike braggers - chapeau mon braggeur (well, he is from Jersey)

Introducing Ciocc bikes new UK distributors

Loyal readers will remember the sad tale of the Correspondent and his tragic loss, the little ridden Eurofighter, only a few months ago. Now, whilst us mere mortals would likely lick our wounds (well, maybe not if they looked like his) and reconsider our return to the road, the 'C' decided to use his recuperation period to rethink his entire being as a cyclist. Not only did he think about what bike he might next wish to have, but he also, along with his equally spoke-minded brother, decided he would become the UK distributor for that bike.

And so behold the Correspondent and Il Correspondito (his little brother has a bit of a thing about Italy - he even went so far as to marry into 'The Family') are now the official UK distributors for Ciocc bikes. Ciocc (pronounced 'church' I have been slightly patronisingly informed) could well be considered the ultimate in sleeping giants of Italian exotica. With both a rich heritage in cold war racing as well as producing arguably some of the sleekest framesets currently known to man it's quite safe to say that the boys are onto something.

Now, I don't intend for one second to sell-out and whore myself or my blog to these chancers but, if you find yourself with nothing to do on a rainy day, have a little look at their website Grupettoitalia (1 p and 2 t's, Robert) where you can lust at the beauty of it all and, like me , wonder why there is a picture of a cup of cappuccino amongst the carbon, titanium (why Misfit?) and steel (I positively lust after the San Cristobal).

No doubt there will be more tales of their adventures in the weeks to come and, who knows, maybe I'll be tapping out my first review (hint, hint)