Designer's bikes

Another (particularly) busy week over and yet again I find myself having not managed a new post for 7 days. Never mind, I'm here now and this week amongst an exhibition opening and a trip to see the local maternity ward (modern and clean but also stuffy and with that classic hospital smell which reminds me of Horlicks made using bleach) I somehow found myself at the Royal Designers for Industry annual shindig (obviously there as a guest rather than on merit). It was a true galaxy of the great, the good and the egocentric of the design world and I thoroughly enjoyed it. One of the reasons for this was that I sat next to one of this country's leading lights in product design, Sam Hecht (or Sam Hecht RDI to give him his official title on the evening). Knowing that I could not bluff my way through dinner by solely speaking about design related topics (which would have most likely got me no further than the bread roll before the starter) I cunningly turned the conversation to cycling and, in particular: was Sam a cyclist? Indeed he was (although he did look a little lost when I mentioned the name Colnago - I ask you!) and I can't tell you how relieved I was to have found some common ground before we'd reached the main course. His bike of choice? The Trek District. One might sigh 'quelle surprise' at this choice as if ever there was a 'designer's' bike then the District has got to be it (in the same way that for a brief period in the mid 90's every designer seemed to ride an Aprilia Moto). However it is undeniably a great looking bike and totally practical for the urban commuter (especially if your commute is from Primrose Hill to Clerkenwell - moi? envious? oui!) being single speed and belt driven - which is something that I cannot understand why more manufacturers are not producing, although I know that a new single speed belt driven Moulton is in the offing (purrrrrrrrrr).

Vive l'Youtube

I don't want to bleat on about it but since the weather turned and the pro season ended I am seriously struggling to put my mind to writing this blog. Partly busy with work, partly preoccupied with a certain forthcoming event (think pink, wrinkly - no, I'm not talking cold weather riding - I'm talking baby!) and partly because I only really want to write about things I have experienced or discovered. Whilst I fight my way out of this general malaise I will try and keep things ticking along with little vignettes and today's takes the form of the great bloggers back-up - Youtube. I have yet to work out how to embed a clip on this site so the link will have to suffice. It's worth clicking on as to me it sums l'humanité française in a nutshell - gruff, nonplussed, barefaced liars (well, perhaps that's a bit harsh but the last guy does make you think) and very, very funny. Merci, Nick.

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PS - In the words of Jon Bonjela - Keep the faith - there's life left in the old blog yet

Time to hit the shops (and tidy them up a tad)

Ouch, it's getting cold out there now - a few weekends off the bike and my how things have changed in the temperature department. Whilst it's not quite icicle on the nose type weather it's certainly chilly enough to notice on the tootsies and make me start to think about some new winter kit which, as with any bike related purchasing, fills me with both delight and trepidation. The delight comes from being able to purposefully stalk the internet looking for (what I perceive to be) cool kit, the trepidation comes from the commitment and trust that has to be made when buying clothing on the web. It's nothing to do with credit card fraud, it's simply that unlike mechanical equipment which you know will fit (even if you don't know how you will fit it), you simply haven't got a bloody clue how any cycling clothing is sized which means that you either order the same things in 3 sizes and then lose the benefits of free delivery by spending £20 on sending the wrong sizes back or you take a guess and, if you don't strike it lucky, embark on a relay of return and reorder. Wiser souls might say just to pop along to your local bike shop, try on what you want and then order it cheaper on-line (this method has been brilliantly picked up on by the poster ads for dixons.com - genius!) and I have not been averse to this method for many a purchase both bike and non-bike related (I am still carrying the guilt of 2 free-of-charge hours spent with the Peter Jones 'nursery advisor' helping us compile a list of essentials that we then proceeded to use as a blueprint for what we needed to look for in the, shall we say, less expensive shops). However, the only problem with the try then buy on-line method is that, despite living in a major international city, the selection in nearly every shop is exactly the same - Altura, Endura, a bit of Assos (to give the pretence that they are a 'pro' shop) and now the, sadly-not-as-good-as-I-had-first-thought Mavic and it's all lovingly jammed onto rails on plastic hangers with the care and attention of a closing down sale in Cancer Research. Condor are bravely bucking this trend but surely there is a big enough market in a city of 7 odd million to justify a few more shops with a decent selection and a bit of love shown in the display department?

Ain't got my mojo workin'

I've had a bit of break from the blog over the past week or so. It's not been a conscious decision, simply a result of not having ridden for over 10 days and therefore suffering a complete droop in the blogging mojo department. Like Team GB (and seemingly every other athlete these days regardless of winning or losing) I am trying to focus on the positives and put the negatives behind me. The back is feeling better though by no means back to normal which leaves me with the dread (and expense) of making my first ever visit to a physio and, God forbid, an osteopath. The thought of breathing deeply whilst somebody cracks my body around without the slightest idea of whether it may damage me further and more permanently fill me with total dread (not unlike a few years ago on a trip to Morocco when I went to a 'spa' in the middle of nowhere where a burly masseuse told me to 'reeeelaxxxxx' as he poured paraffin on me and then proceeded to double bend my knees as if they were made of Playdoh - 'reeeelaxxxxx' I did not). Sorry, I digressed from my positivity. I'm rested, relaxed and itching to perch myself on the PM and get back into the groove. Winter riding awaits and, despite the end of the continental season, I'm sure there will be plenty to keep these pages populated for my legion, nay garrison of followers. Keep the faith dear readers - please? pretty please?

Withering away

Harrumph! I've got a right sulk on today. In fact I've had the sulk on since exactly 9.37am on Friday when, after a lovely ride to work, I changed into my civvies and put my back out whilst tying my shoelaces. I haven't done this since my brief foray into the world of the triathlete (we're not talking Ironman here, just the 'sprint' distance which I like to think I could have done had the honeymoon not got in the way and the motivation waned) when I totally buggered it on a morning run. So I spent the weekend abstaining from the bike and even forwent my commute on Monday in an effort to nip it in the bud quickstix. Alas, dear reader, I have now had to spend the last 24hrs at home on the floor in an effort to ease the pain interspersing this torture with hot baths and Deep Heat (quite a pleasant sensation really). I need to get better in preparation for a 4 hour train journey to see the parents on Thursday which, whilst I am delighted to be doing, will mean that it will be AT LEAST 3 WEEKS since I will have been out for a nice long ride and my legs will turn to mush and I will miss this lovely spell of mild weather and I will suffer for the entire winter and things will never, never, be the same ever, ever again! Perhaps I am being melodramatic but God! I hate not being well! Harrumph!

Introducing Zippig

I've tried, GOD KNOWS I HAVE TRIED, to erase the thought of any deep section carbon crossing the threshold and skewering itself onto my pride and joy. But, to paraphrase Kylie, I just can't get them out of my head (sha-na-na). I enjoy thinking about them, I enjoy surfing the internet and stalking e-bay, I enjoy feeling sorry for myself when I can't discover the bargain of the century and, quite frankly, I enjoy the paradox of stressing about how I will support a family whilst simultaneously considering dropping over a grand on some wheels, To continue this mildly masochist form of bike porn masturbation I have decided to enlist the help of my little spotty friend Zippig. He / she was a birthday gift from my parents to my beloved (can you imagine the horror on my face as she unwrapped it?) and has languished unloved in the spare bedroom (soon to be a very occupied bedroom) for the past 2 years but has now been enlisted into my cunning little plan to attain my 303 dream. Coppers, silvers, circles and hexagons (but not paper) are going to be fed into Zippig until one day he/she bursts thus ensuring a heavy visit to the local Barclays followed by a 3 clicks visit to the best on-line price. I like to think of it as low impact expenditure.

The way things are gonna be

The weekends always go too quickly and not least of all when you spend over 2 hours at Peter Jones with a 'Nursery Advisor' who chirpily takes you around the store telling you everything that you are going to need for when the little one decides to grace us with it's (no doubt screaming) presence. I was tossed between logical blokey interest (prams, car seats and BabyBjorns), practicality (cot bed's and storage), tearful cutesiness (little hats, socks and swaddling wraps) to downright toe-curling disgust (breast pumps - arghhhh!). It was all a bit too much and with every new product that was introduced I could not stop myself from saying 'add it to the list' in a semi-pompous nothings-too-good-for-my-child sort of way whilst at the same time having the inner Schleck pleading with me to shut up as he saw any chance of deep section wheels slipping away. It was hellish! At least all this came after a nice early morning jaunt into Kent (I am loving the 39x25 - especially now that I have refitted it without the rattle that plagued the Ride of the Falling Leaves (did I tell you that I was 18th in the GC?!)).

On Sunday came an experience that I probably never thought would have happened - I donned baggies with Dan and headed off into the woods for a bit of mucky fun. Titter ye not, it was the first time that I had been mountain biking 'for real' (ish) and, although only marginally less socially awkward than dogging, I quite enjoyed the romp in the Hertfordshire forests (if you can call the broker belt estates and golf courses of Berkhamsted 'forests'. Whilst Dan hopped and skipped his way over logs and down trails I gamely tried to keep up - in his desperation to convert me to the way of the muddy path he had lent me his best bit of kit, an Orange (make not colour) full suspension frame with Fox forks (about £800 a pair apparently) - scuffing and scraping every bit exposed flesh on trees, nettles and brambles as we went. Luckily the bike, which was surprisingly light for something that looked like a tank, forgave most things under foot and I found myself merrily ploughing over branches (not logs - which I daintily dismounted for unlike bunny-hopping Dan) and spinning up hillsides. Whilst I'm not in a hurry to go out and get myself a new toy and join him on a regular basis and I certainly won't be shopping at Howies but I did enjoy the experience and it did give me a good excuse to write about something other that carbon fibre for a change. Thanks Dan.

Picture - Howies