My little trip to Kos

Above us only sky 

Why do airports seem to bring out the worst in people? I made a school boy error, by putting my aftershave in the hand luggage. My bag was put to one side on the machine to be checked. I had no idea that I'd made the mistake, but I was about to find out. I was waiting patiently for my bag to be checked, when a very large bearded, overly zealous security official made me move about 3 centre meters, over some sort of line;  think Metallica fan/biker...vroooooooooom!  After he'd got me to move the minuscule amount that appeased him; I began to think about what a sterling job he'd done; and I was wondering if he was going to finish work that evening, safe in the knowledge that he'd done his job to best of his abilities, not counting good old fashioned customer service...obviously; maybe sitting off in wetherspoons telling his mates about his ace day? I'm sure he had lots of friends, I'm sure of it.   Just as I was winding myself up about people of this stamp; I was immediately confronted by an Asian couple; who had failed to realise that their bag was being thwarted because it needed to be searched; and that it was in a que, and ques in their very essence, have fundamentals...such as an order; usually chronological. They were sure that waving their boarding passes frantically in the security ladies face was going to get them seen quicker. There were sure of it.  Just as I was awaiting a light house in the proverbial fog, to redeem humanity for me, I struck a concealed iceberg of cunt-ness. There was a vile, freckled, narcissistic, ginger Irish woman, with an exhausted look on her face sighing very deliberately...about as deliberate as one could sigh; even more deliberate than the sighs that I was throwing out, in my head, at the beardo loon, '"I've got a plane to catch!" she said.......


Then I boarded the plane, and as usual, I was a little nervous, as I am scared of flying.  You know when you arrive at the airport, and you see a gang of tit heads at the bar? You think 'I hope they're not getting on my plane'  - well, they did, and they sat right in front of me. The "G-star raw" T shirts are an instant indicator of moronary.   If you wear one of these, chances are, you're a moron; or possibly a middle aged man trying hopelessly to to appear fashionable...in which case, you're also a moron. They were chatting up a few young damsels, one of which was wearing a shockingly terrible wig; which was so bang on, it was funny. The lads were also aware of her tragic hair-cumstance; and were silently communicating via a series of raised eyebrows and smirks. I knew what they were thinking. They were total dick heads. Loud, football chanting, obnoxious little shits, with little spatial awareness- they were ignoring the seatbelt light, sitting four on a three row. At this point, we were well into the flight, and I was hardly even aware that I was in air- the fear was replaced by G-star raw rage; thanks to a gaggle of yorkshire nitwits (one had a Leeds United tattoo). I've always wanted to go abroad, on a 'lads' holiday, but the company I have kept over the years has been a little skeletal to say the least, and has dictated that such embarkings' have been restricted. If, I ever did though, I'm sure I'd be liable to slap someone in my party for  any of that sort of behaviour. I had exhausted all avenues of thought, pertaining to my moronic fellow travellers. I drifted off into a day dream, only to be snapped out of it by a blue bottle, buzzing energetically around the cabin; 'how lucky is he?' I said to myself. 'Was he a Greek fly? Was he Liverpudlian? Perhaps he was from elsewhere? Was he missing his brothers back home, to busy to even send a post card back?' Personifying and flying. That's how it's done.


The plane landed, and we went our separate ways from the fly, and the fuckwits. We made our way to the resort of Kefalos. I won't bore you with the details of it. It's a holiday resort at the end of the day. They're a pretty much a standard formula where ever you go. Junk for sale, half full with tourists, nice beaches, and loads of cars and quads to rent, pretty standard really. Ants galore!  The room we checked into was every bit of a prison cell that I imagined it to be- two tiny windows and a door. Maritsa studios, ran by a lady called Maritsa. We had about 10 feral cats outside who were very tame- although the black ones were much more sheepish than the brown or white ones- I'm not sure if this is just by chance, or maybe a scientific reason. There was one kitten in the clan, and she was very very cute.

View from our room

Breakfast time..

This is actually the flight home, as I never got a window seat on the outbound flight

My visit to Kos was one with ulterior motives, i.e, not just to holiday; but was somewhat of a recon' mission to weigh up any potential marinas to put my yacht, when I eventually get around to buying it. Unfortunately for me, when the Greeks misunderstand you, they do it on a colossal scale, and after asking a few different people, I downed tools on that plan. I basically got the impression there was a lot of forms to fill in, and taxes to pay.  I took a boat trip out to Nisyros, and fell for the place in a big way. I'm pretty sure that when I get my self a yacht, I will be mooring it in the vicinity of the Aegean. There was no sign of cap in hand begging, or anything like that; which our media, with it's own little sinister agenda would like us all to believe! I'd had "why are you going there?" "Greece? Isn't that place in the shit?" from various outlets, in the weeks prior to leaving. My advice to these people, so eager to lap up anything from the mainstream media mammary gland; would be to unplug your television, open your back door, and throw the thing to fuck. Stop reading tabloids as well. While we're there, stop reading magazines. Why do you need to be told what to think? I realize listening to me would make my initial request a paradox; but; I'll let you off, as long as from this point on you DO AS I SAY. 

A few shots from Nisyros

Me inside a crater, looking like a typical British Tourist. 

Christine, snooping for bargains.

I had a wonderful time, and the island of Kos won me over, granted, not as much as Nisyros did.  With friendly people, and fantastic food, if I ever do go on a holiday again, I'll be heading out to Greece..but in all honesty, it'll probably be in the boat rather than on a holiday! It was everything I imagined it would be, and more. 

Spot the cyclist.

The road up to the the highest point, I biked up, then rented a quad to get some photos. Was getting some strange looks off locals in cars and on bikes, as I hauled my fat ass to the top rep by rep. 

Photos do not do the gradient any justice. 

No, they still don't...

The view from the top

Quad biking!

Vroooooom. 

My faith in humanity was restored on the way home, and the 'G-star raw' pricks were not to be seen. I met an old guy, at the airport; I let him get in line before me, just after check-in opened, as we were waiting at the front. I got talking to him, and he told me that he'd flown out to Crete, and was simply going around all the different islands finding his own way, rather than booking anything. He instantly became my new hero!  I suspected that he was a widower, until he mentioned that his wife had booked him the flight home- he then told me that his wife was severely disabled, and that for 4 weeks of the year, his kids look after her and he goes on his travels. I said "I'm sure you're glad to be going back..." he jokingly looked in disapproval, as if to suggest he wanted to carry on island hopping forever;   "don't worry, I haven't got a camera, I'm not wearing a wire" I said- he laughed, and made a comment about 'Merseyside humour' - I spoke with him again twice; as he was offering to get us drinks- as the cafe wouldn't take card payments, we refused his kind offer obviously,  and again at the baggage collection place; where he told me of all the places he'd been over the years. He was a well travelled man, but I did wonder about what his life might have been like for the other 48 weeks of the year. I bid him farewell, and good luck and he did the same. It was one of those encounters which will hopefully stay with me for the rest of my life.  

In my mersey paradise...

I went to see the Stone Roses on Sunday at Heaton Park. I remember the first time I ever heard them....my brother was playing them, over and over, in his room, that I wasn't welcome in, and his spotty mates used to regularly visit, listen to the roses and other shit, like the prodigy, and drink 'special red' a budget cider that was around at the time.  I did not like the stone roses one bit; I was nine though, and thankfully, not long after deciding that I didn't like them because, what the fuck is a garage flower? (critical of lyrics even then) I realised that 'this is the one' was a great song and that I did like them, slowly I began to appreciate the rest of the catalogue; propelling The Stone Roses to be one of my favourite bands. So, I'd been waiting 19 years or so. I don't really do "music" any more. I don't like to talk about it with anyone, because it infuriates me, on so many levels, and I most certainly don't do gigs. In the weeks prior, I was making very sweeping assumptions in my head about the calibre of ball bags that I would be submersed amongst, and categorised them, as follows

Middle aged acid casualties 
The mother load of the audience, at least from where I was standing. Terrible oral hygiene as well- Colgate representatives, if you're reading this, your marketing over the past 20 years has failed to reach Stone Roses fans.  Get along to the next stone roses gig with some free samples.

The 'everything is cool man' indie crowd
You are not Liam Gallagher. You look abysmal putting that walk on. Stop it. Cut your shitty hair, take yourself down to the job centre, and get it sorted. Quite a few of these spotted.

Festival Slags
Massive sunglasses that makes them look like flies...usually packing timber, big hair, loads of makeup.  You little knobheads enter the arena thinking that you're on the front of Chat magazine or something. It's boss seeing you at the end, covered in jizz, piss and blood, crying your eyes out. Die.

People who read the NME
....and use it as some sort of melodic mammary gland. Perhaps the worst people on the list...possibly the planet.  Fleeting interest in bands. No real sincerity. More about the image, and getting laid than the music.

General Dickheads
Like, people who just listen to the radio all day in work. You can see them, when bands play their singles, and they go mad.

They were all spotted, and noted.

When we entered the arena, the first thing I seen was a little knob head in a north face tracksuit, sporting birkenhead-esque pencil moustache throw a glass vodka bottle, as he waited in line, at someone just going through the security, right in front of the 'security' who actually let him in after witnessing him throw it! Actually, rewind; the first thing that infuriated me was seeing loads of 'literally blantantlies' (generic middle class students) - I forgot to add them to my list, sorry. Anyway, I seen loads of them drinking, and throwing their cans into a rather picturesque lake, which was full of Canada Geese, Moorhens, and Coots. Is it that hard to have a little bit of respect for your surrounding, and bag your shit? Then I seen droves more doing the same. What is wrong with people? I feel like I am alone sometimes.

We arrived in the Arena as The Wailers were playing; there didn't seem to be that many people interested in them. They were very tight- it was essentially them playing the best of Bob Marley, and audience appreciation depended on the song, and if had been played on an advert recently.... I told my brother and his mate, that the flight case to the left of the bass player, actually had a ouija board on it, and that Bob was there, logged on via the supernatural highway.  Plan B, I knew would infuriate me to new heights, and they didn't fail to deliver. Well done dick heads.  I heard 30 seconds of their 'music' a few weeks prior to the gig. It was a bit surreal really. Like a mixture of everything that is bad about music, all combined into one performance. It was like a wedding cover band had been hired by someone who had a soft spot for modern day 'RnB' - Lots of references to 'da street' and 'my crew' mid set outfit changes (why?) and shite rapping. "Why are they even playing here?" My brother asked. "Well Carl, it's because they are signed to Mercury records, which is one of the  subsidiaries of UNIVERSAL, who the stone roses are signed by. I highly doubt the Stone Roses wanted them, or Professor Green, who played yesterday. They're on the bill because the record company says so. It's all about sales, and brand awareness." Fuck the music industry.

I think, for me to enjoy gigs in future, I'm going to have to get myself some horse tranquillizers. Or just stay at home. I felt, for the money I paid for the ticket, like I was bent over, and fucked with a very long scaffolding pipe. Ian Brown can't sing good. Musically, the Roses were awesome. I particularly loved 'where angels play'. I'm amazed that they managed to get him to sing in key in the 80's when they recorded. I know they didn't have auto tune then. I hope they record  a new record; I really do. 



I started my new job last Monday ....well...I'm not really sure what my official title is, as I've not been officially told. I never had an interview, I just got given a number from a friend- a mobile number at that; "Sound, fuckin' sound, we'll get you on the phones, and if you're onto it then fuckin' sound". So far, it's been "fuckin' sound"- I work on an outbound dialler; and I ring people, regarding motoring accidents from nearly three years ago. The bad news, is that most people think you're scamming them, tell you to fuck off or just hang up, the good news is that there's a small percentage of people out there; who didn't claim at the time of their accidents, didn't know that they could, and are willing for me to take their details, and pass over to our "legal team" and I get ten round pounds for each of these that go through. I've been doing pretty well, I've managed to get 10 in my first week; meaning a cool £100 for me...although I am highly dubious about ever actually getting this money....I love getting these smart arsed pricks accusing me personally of being responsible for everyone's car insurance being so high. I had one guy asking me if I drove (after telling me he'd been left immobilised as a result of his accident) - I knew right away he was lying and about to blame me for his premiums being high, so I politely told him "No, I don't have a car, I personally think they are too expensive to run, harm the environment, are dangerous, and I can sleep at night knowing that I have got to where I've needed to be using sustainable transport!" The line went dead.   I don't really care about motorists and their fucking premiums. The more you cycle (I am someone who regularly exceeds 100 miles per week), the more you despise people in cars. They're all just part of the monster; the big sweating monster that makes the green grass, grey concrete, and clear blue seas murky and polluted. 

My European Health Card Arrived, which is something that I need to finalize all my paper work for starting my merchant navy training in September. My Dad passed comment: "Wow, look at that, another card for your wallet...for you to lose! Welcome to the real world, you tosser" Some of this shit my Dad comes out with is solid gold.  I have 62 days until Fleetwood. 7 of those will be spent on the Island of Kos, the rest will be spent chasing ambulances over the phone, and cycling and sighing at idiocy.

Over and out until September.

Now we're getting somewhere...

I'm currently amidst the chaos of pre-cadetship paper work; and I'm a little charged up. I can't complain though, right?  I want to try and get it all sorted as soon as I can. Mr efficient...that's my philosophy.  Application for my discharge book (which for some reason needs 12 identical pictures), my U.S visa application, which asks some rather outlandish questions- the crescendo being  "Have you ever engaged in the recruitment of child soldiers?"  - "Let me think about that?" I thought and the almost immediate afterthought was "I wonder how many before me thought the exact same thing, thinking they were so very funny" - I wasn't thinking I was funny, I was just on auto-pilot, and my default setting is cynic.  I've had to contact my doctors for a list of all the inoculations that I've had, and refreshingly, the receptionist just told me to come down right away, and pick up the print out- my doctors is abysmal usually; you have to wait weeks, and weeks for an appointment, at which time, you'll probably be better/dead, OR, ring them in the morning for an appointment, which always results in an infuriating engaged tone, from the time of opening, until about half an hour after, when I'm politely informed 'there are no appointments left.'  


As soon as all the stuff arrived, I rang their recommended GP, and got an appointment for my ENG1- which I attended today. A million and one thoughts were clambering around my head, worrying about passing the medical, but, it went very well indeed. I had been worried about my weight, but, I was quite surprised that I was lighter than my scales tell me; actually much lighter- unless his scales were wrong! He told me to lose another stone for "homework" - it was quite a painless procedure, and I flew through all the tests. He was impressed with how much weight I'd managed to lose; and told me to keep on doing what I'm doing. His assistant was sound as well; a proper "old school" kind of chap; quite odd to see such a character operating in such an environment.  It was quite apt, that the offices for the medical were in the port of Liverpool building.  I'm happy that I now have an unrestricted ENG1, which will enable me to work at sea. 

"THEY THAT GO DOWN TO THE SEA IN SHIPS, that do business in great waters; These see the works of the LORD, and his wonders in the deep. For he commandeth, and raiseth the stormy wind, which lifteth up the waves thereof. They mount up to the heaven, they go down again to the depths: their soul is melted because of trouble. They reel to and fro, and stagger like a drunken man, and are at their wits' end. Then they cry unto the LORD in their trouble, and he bringeth them out of their distresses. He maketh the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still. Then are they glad because they be quiet; so he bringeth them unto their desired haven". -Psalm 107 23,30

I'm on the home run now; asides from dotting the i's and crossing the t's- just one more hurdle to jump- passing my GCSE's at grade C or above. I have my reservations about physics, because I perhaps didn't revise as much as I should have (not at all) but the other subjects, I'm looking at A's, or B's at the very least. In all honesty, I've done hardly any revising.  My midway results were all A's and B's - so unless I've seriously spazzed out on the end of year ones, I can't really see me getting anything less than C's, I am quietly confident though. College was good. I began with a bit of a chip on my shoulder, because I'd already been to university; but that chip gradually eroded as the year went on; and apart from one of my teachers, who was a bit of a lazy ball bag- I got the impression that he didn't like me because of all the questions that I asked; and after speaking to one of the girls on my course, a few other people in my courses didn't like me, because of "all the questions that I asked". . . .  Anyway,  the other 4 teachers were excellent in their roles; professional, passionate, and always there for any support that I needed. Not to mention the facilities of the college- probably better than than Leeds Met!  Going 'back to school' was nothing like that film Billy Madison, there was no penguins, and like my time in secondary school; I never really got too involved with people socially, and I was more than happy to be a bit of an outcast- I wouldn't have it any other way. Although, I'm hoping at nautical college, I'll perhaps meet some people that are reading from the same page as me.


Every day, getting that bus to and from college I was willing the last day upon me- the last time I have to get that fucking bus. It arrives in the morning, and there is no concept AT ALL of a que- it's every man for himself. At first, I tried to do good, trying to let people who had been waiting longer than me, on before me, that didn't last long; with little shits cutting in on oblique lines.  Morals? Not in this day and age. When the bus arrives, there's tonnes of sixthformers who get off, and I mean tonnes- not only that, but you wait patiently for them all to get off- giving them plenty of space, yet, on the return journey, when it's your turn to get off the bus, they're all there, pushing to get on; without trying to let you get off. Occasionally, a competent bus driver will shout at them to get back, and let people off, but now, and for a long time, I just plough my way through the little cunts; I've knocked a few of them over.  The campus in question, was 'tweeting' about how well it's students perform. I 'tweeted' to them "Shame that bus stop etiquette omitted from the syllabus." Then there's the bus ride- we all know how buses are these days; plagued with retards feeling the need to call people, and be as loud as they possibly can; and we all know about the spotty teenagers with their atrociously shit music- at least, the high frequency remnants spilling out of their shit 70's headphones for all of us to hear; and there's the old, bearded, whiskey nosed tramp; who gets my bus, most days; this poor man is mentally infirm. He smells of death, and looks like he's not had a bath since Mark Morrison was in the charts with 'Return of the mack' - give him his dues, he clears out the back end of the bus, much like a Mark Morrison track would, funnily enough. 


 I just need to tick off the days until September. I am excited about the new chapter in my life; and the fruits that it will bring.  I'm nervous that something is waiting around the corner to piss all over my chips. I'm sad because I'm going to be away from my loved ones. Is it pathetic that I am  more worried about being away from my Dog? I know that my people will be okay, they all have their lives to live, and things to do, but my beloved Guinness is going to miss me. Me and her walk, and talk a lot; at least, I do the talking, and I try to do it when I'm not in earshot of other people. She's a good listener.  Every time I take her to park, that sobering thought that I'll be leaving her becomes more apparent; it's gut wrenching, it really is.  


The plan for the summer is to try and find a job, any job, to get me through to September, so I'll have a few quid in the bank. I have been applying relentlessly, but not even hearing back; apart from the unsuccessful traffic warden job interview- although from the test I did, I probably dodged a bullet- when being asked to re-write a mock statement... "The man in question poked me in the chest, and shouted several obscenities" 


In the old weight loss department, I managed to lose 10lb in the month of may; which was down to some cycling, cycling, and more cycling. Going on the doctors scales today, I've lost a further 6lb already this month. Riding off the lard. 






It's time to celebrate. 

Now his wagon is loaded, he's pullin' away....

I'm on my way to my last Physics GCSE exam earlier today; and I 'tweet' "Bibby ‏@7HTAS

This merchant navy contract I am waiting on; I don't think I have wanted anything more in my life."  - Just 5 minutes after this; my Dad rings me, and tells me the good news. There's an envelope with lots of papers that need signing to be picked up.  My contract for my Merchant Navy training.  The feeling eclipsed that time I got a Sega Saturn for Christmas, and there was me, thinking that feeling would never be surpassed.

So, it all seems a little closer to fruition now- That dream of navigating boats around the world, and to be paid for it, is one step closer for me...never mind the working dream, but there's the dream of living on my own little yacht, somewhere in the Mediterranean which now seems a little step closer too.  I guess now, I can draw a line in the sand, and move forward- God...I sound like one of those god awful managers that exist, in call centres, just below operational management level! 

Over the past few years, I've spent hours and hours....days, daydreaming about where my life is going to take me; will I find what I am looking for? Will I ever be satisfied? I guess the way I see things now, are much more philosophical; and I am not afraid in the slightest of following a dream; or pursuing something that I want. I guess I owe that to my idols; William Willis, Fred Rebell- I need to add Moitessier to that list now; after recently finishing the fantastic "The long way"

I think back to my life in 2007; working in a plankton level job, in a banks' call centre; on 12k. 27 +stone, depressed to fuck, revelling in crapulence.  The wake up call that put my arse into gear about my health and weight, was going to the doctors; and being told; "You are morbidly obese, your blood pressure is high, and you are diabetic" I decided then, I was going to sort out the mess I was in. Everything was a mess; I was, my life was,  I was going nowhere....fast.  Ultimately, I was not enjoying living.  

Since that point of realising change was essential, and a long term career was needed, I have been plugging away, bit by bit, getting to where I am now.  A few credit control jobs, here or there, and a bit (Lot)of time on the dole, which in it's self has been challenging- My friends in my home town doubted me, and had their two cents about me not working, and to a certain extent, there was times where I doubted myself.  Sure, I could have maybe got a full time job, a long term job, but I would have regretted not following my dream for the rest of my life. I've hated being skint all the time, and I thank God for the people who are close to me, for putting up with my apparent lack of...well...money!   Living on buttons can be rewarding, especially when you can eat for a week, pretty comfortably; off £20.00 (thanks to ALDI), and you see people in Tescos spending £££'s on their weekly shops!  But, on the other side of the coin, it's shit, because there's not much else spare; if you want to buy anything, or go anywhere.  I set myself a goal, and I've kept plugging away until it has been reached;  there was a point in 2010, when I had my 2nd rejection letter from the Royal Fleet Auxilary; where I was just thinking of throwing in the towel- I'm glad that I didn't, and that I am here now; seemingly in a better position than I would have been had I have joined the RFA- I would have been a Coms' rating. Being a deck officer suits me better anyway! I feel like the Dad, in Little Miss Sunshine.  

I'm buzzing right now. 

There's still a long way to go, before I'm relaxing on the deck of my own Contessa 32; happy with my life, and career, with an ice cold glass of Sangria, watching the sun set over a cloudless Mediterranean sky. You might be thinking "he's got his head in the clouds this one" - Well, it all began back in 2007; static, in a seemingly prospect-less job, shockingly unhealthy. I'm the turd that won't flush. I'm about 9 stone lighter; I am the fittest I have ever been; and most importantly, I'm happy, and I have my training to look forward to. There's work to be done; but I'll be damned if all this has been for nothing! I want to enjoy the shit out of my life. 

Thanks for reading x

Ride your bike, ride your bike, ride your bike.

I don't think 350 miles is my record for a weeks milage; but it certainly felt like it. I guess the heat has taken more out of me, than riding that distance usually would.  I suppose it's all helping towards me getting myself in shape. I have lost about 8lb so far this month; and I reckon I'm possibly going to lose another stone or so in June. I've got some big rides planned (Bangor, in wales, 140 miles round trip; and Buxton, Derbyshire, also 140 miles ish) Obviously; the Buxton ride is going to be a killer; due to the terrain being very lumpy!  Last Sunday, I went out to the Cycling cafe (which I am now banned from), and went across over to Helsby, and Frodsham way with my club; which I enjoyed; It's nice to ride to new places. I done some speed riding on Monday, and Tuesday; and on Wednesday, I went out with two lads from the cycling club, Mark W, and Rob H, on a midweek "dole run" - we went to The Ponderosa cafe, which self applies the handle "The shop in the clouds" 

It's always satisfying to get up to the top; after all the hard work of riding uphill for that long. When you're on the road, pumping away, head down, sweat pissing out of you, staring at the floor, wondering when all the suffering is going to end; you are often passed by leather clad ball bags on their super charged super bikes, at very high speeds! Every time they whiz past, I can't help but think of that episode of southpark, about motor cyclists being attention seeking faggots. When you finally get up, and in the cafe, only then can you fully appreciate the motor cyclist in close quarters...generally with massive beer guts, and shit metal band tour T shirts from 1997.  The food on offer in the cafe certainly caters for them; massive, and I mean massive, almost astronomical potions of pie, chips, and gravy. Mmmmm.  The last thing you want, when you've got to ride all the way back to Birkenhead.  I opted for beans on toast, and I was shocked when they had 50/50 bread! The manoeuvres that some  of  them pull on their bikes are nothing short of idiocy. That "Think Bike" advert, where there's arrows pointing to motorcyclists, being people, with families; I appreciate them trying to personify bikers, in an attempt to get moronic car users to take more care. If you ever seen some of the shit that these nut sacks pull on the horse shoe pass; you'd just laugh at that advert, like I do.  

On Saturday morning, I ticked off a cycling "to-do"- I rode out to frodsham, and then headed over the Runcorn bridge! It was pretty shit to be honest. It stank of shit, and the expressway was hair raising at 32mph; with lots of cars beeping! I've introduced a new school of thought with sign gestures, at motorists; rather than pop them the conventional V's, I just try to confuse them, by either doing a rocking baby motion, or getting my pump out my back pocket, and proceeding to cast a spell on them. I fucking hate morons AND cars. I don't think I want to ever own a car again. 

Sunday's club run started with a slight hiccup! I got asked, so politely by the current owner of the Eureka cafe; if I could not come to the cafe again, if I'm not buying anything. She went on to say that "you come in here week after week, and just get water" and that she has a business to run. Which is fair enough, right? I was half expecting it, as a few weeks ago, I asked one of the girls for some "council pop" and she  jumped in and informed me that it wasn't council pop, and that they were on a meter; I did detect a slight twinge of animosity! So, rather than pull me to one side; and have a quiet word; she walks up to me, and embarrasses the living shit out of herself, and me in front of the rest of the Vics.  When she walked away, a few of the lads said "That was a bit harsh" - and at the time, I was quite pissed off. I've been in there quite a bit over the years and when ever I do have money spare; which in my current situation, is not very often, I will buy things, usually a hot chocolate, toast, or a cup of green tea. I was put off getting food from there, when I ordered a cup of tea, with poached egg and beans on toast...handed a tenner in, and got £1.20 back.  I'm not in a position to be flashing the cash on things that are over priced. She obviously assumes that I am like the consensus clientèle that frequent the cafe; just to be a prick(as always), and generalize; are middle aged men, with more money than sense. Cycling weekly subscribers. Leg shavers. Most of them have a massively expendable income; which is why, they can turn up at the mills, on their carbon fibre pinarellos' and pay £2.50 for a tracker bar, endorsed by lance the druggy; and buy "energy gels" that cycling weekly instructs them that they "need". I can go to aldi, and get a pack of wholegrain fruit bars, that will do the same job; 6 for a pound. £2.50 gets me my breakfast in for the entire week. If I'm struggling for money; which I am; it makes sense for me to buy my energy drinks on-line, in bulk. So, now, because I don't buy anything, I'm not welcome there any more. My club meet there; week in, week out- they even have their club meetings there; which all puts precious money in her till.  My club mates all spend a shit load in there! Will my club mates stand by me? Will there be any solidarity for the fat cunt?  Boycott the cafe?  Of course not. The mills is the cycling centre of the universe. They've met up there since before time began. Can't change history; or habits, can we? 

 So, sadly, my Sunday runs now, will be solo. I am not riding out to the mills, and waiting outside in the fucking bus shelter for the lads to come out and meet me; like a naughty school kid. The bus company might get an anonymous tip off, that I'm using their shelter, and I am not a PAYING customer.  I could just go in there, and buy juice; just to appease her; or even a bottle of water- which would be fair; I spend; she gets money out of me- but I'm just not willing to now, after how she went about it. Consider this cyclist, alienated. I doubt the impact will have any dent at all on her income.   I'd know, each time I'm there, paying for my bottle of water, or juice, that she's probably burning inside, and counting the little drops of money going in her till. Cycling....the new golf.  I hope I never have that kind of relationship with money. She's obviously never struggled with money before! 

Impatience bites.....

 I sit here watching a documentary trailer for a guy called Nick Jaffe; who is featured in an up and coming sailing documentary (See here for the link) - Although I am a particular sucker for such documentaries I am eagerly anticipating watching the finished article; when it is released for download, next month; ugh, I'm excited about cringe worthy digital media.....and if you have to pay for it, I won't be watching it-  although, the one aspect of the trailers that would get a 'thumbs down' from me is the soundtrack; which in my honest opinion is questionable- but then again, I am pretty funny when it comes to music. I'm a bit of a music Nazi. There was a point in one of the trailers, where Nick was quite simply overcome with raw emotion as consequence of his awe inspiring surroundings; and that is the moment that I am personally looking forward to experiencing first hand.

I can't help but be envious of what Nick has managed to achieve. Nick, like the greats who have inspired my interest in ocean crossings,  Rebell, Slocum, Motessier, Willis, etc had that compulsion within; to get in a small boat, and just sail away from it all. Letting go, casting off the shackles of society, saying "fuck you" to everyone else; and just getting out there.....alone....with the grandeur of nature; unadulterated in all it's glory- the sea- the sky- the elements.  I like to think that I have the same compulsions.  I'm 27 now; and I should have at least got in a sail boat by now; you'd think; especially having such an ardent interest in ocean crossings on small vessels; but I haven't; well, apart from when on holiday in Tenerife; but it was a pretty big yacht.  Sometimes you get caught up in one thing and another; and you end up putting things off and before you know it, life has passed you by. I think for this dream of mine to be some quixotic fad is completely not the case. I think the main reason I haven't already embarked on anything is due to financial restraints, although there was one point on that lilo in Majorca where I was pretty far offshore.  I have spent the past 4 years trying to get myself in the Merchant navy as an officer; to enable me to work, doing something I want to do; and have the working patterns of a few months on and a few months off; so I can get all this shit done.  The target is well and truly locked! Granted; I am a few years off the point where I'll have my own Yacht; the plan is, once I am qualified as a Deck Officer; and I have some funds in the bank; I intend on getting myself a Contessa 26 yacht; on which I will hone my sailing skills; and finally achieve a very long term dream. I'd hope that with my training as a deck officer; I'll be able to transfer my nautical skills into sailing, and pick up the ropes quickly. I'd like to spend my time off work cruising; not only for the prospect of saving money, but it's all experience that will assist with my ultimate goal of circumnavigating the globe; which is something I plan on doing in later life; like my hero, William Willis; although, I'm not really sure a balsa wood raft would be my method of transport.  I have no intentions of writing about it; I'm not really sure there would be that much interest anyway. One thing about watching Nick's documentary was the Camera factor; would I really want to have them personal moments captured on film, and showed to other people? I'm not sure it would be the right thing for me personally; plus; I wouldn't look good on a camera at all! I would see the camera as intrusive; and my dream doesn't involve attaining acclaim, or anyone's respect; I am doing it for me.  I quite liked  Benedict Allen's one man cam-a-thon; with the ice dogs in Siberia. You got more of a feeling of authenticity from knowing it was just him there. I have no time at all for the likes of Bear Grylls or what ever his name is. Film crews; and all the stuff behind the cameras; that you don't see; luxuries and the like! A gang of frauds!



I would like to embark on a project that I could write about; and maybe raise some money for charity in the process; and I have done quite a bit of research into the field I am interested in- Pedalling across an ocean. I was following a guy called Greg Kolo-something or other; from Canada and his "Pedal the ocean" project. I was a little critical of his boat design, and also the "sea trials" that he was doing on a lake; weren't really worthwhile; as I wouldn't of thought emulating the roaring 40's would be possible on a lake- I think I did message him on facebook; but attained no response- and in fairness, he's probably had a tonne of people tell him what they think, and who am I to be taking advice from?  - In any case; he abandoned his project; I think, due to safety concerns.  I am toying with the idea of building an ocean going vessel powered by pedal- I figured that I could combine my love of cycling distances, with my interest of crossing oceans. I managed to ride 116 miles in 6 hours 45(ish) - and while it's not exactly a world beating time; I am still carrying a lot of weight more than I should be; and I think I have a lot of potential to improve as an athlete. I've done a few monster rides; and every time, I have always got back, and thought to myself, I could carry on all day. Which is why I have always entertained these thoughts of pedalling the ocean.  I have had a word with a friend about the actual physical side of it, and also the mechanics of building a pedal system that would be able to turn a propeller- He has contacts with an engineering chap that could build me a pedal system; so what's one aspect sorted. I have not even though about a boat design yet; when I'm surrounded by the right people; I will start to ask questions; but where I am in life at the moment, there aren't really many people I can call upon for advice on things nautical related.  The guys at ocean pedal challenge seemed to have all of their bases covered, with their vessel design and is  a well sponsored project; it looked the part but not long into their second voyage; they called it off for safety concerns. I believe they will be trying again, third time lucky might be the case? I hope so.


 So what is needed, is a boat that is able to withstand massive swells, take a beating from waves and wind; and still be able to make progress; with all that in mind. Christ knows? Jason Lewis (http://www.expedition360.com/) managed to get around the world on human power alone(not just pedaling oceans though) so suggesting a successful solo ocean crossing wouldn't be the acme of foolishness! I would like to do it quicker than Jason though; and I don't think what he has achieved would be something I would embark on emulating. What a seriously heroic feat. The media has hardly batted an eyelid for any of the projects I have previously mentioned; yet; when one of Jordan's tits slips out of her bra in some atrocious London night club; it becomes front page material! I went to my Nan's quite a few times last week; and she gets The Mirror delivered every day; and it's seriously difficult for me to put into words how remedial the people who contribute to it must think 'we' are. I wouldn't go out of my way to read a red and white tabloid, I was merely passing the time. There it was....  the continuous demise of Simon Cowell's life, throughout the week- if the old seven day adventists are to be believed; then surely the demise of Cowell in one week is possible, if God can create the world in the same amount of time?  Who cares? How does this shit sell? Then there was a shockingly terrible article about Great White sharks; it had that much of an impact on me that I have forgotten what it was about; but I remember it lacking serious scientific facts about sharks- in fact it was about some "shark whisperer" - it failed to mention tonic immobility; which the entire story was based on. So the public are left thinking that this ball bag goes around fingering Great Whites into a submissive state. You should have heard the sigh I let out.  So many reasons to want away . . . . . .


So . . . back to reality. It's raining, the dog is depressed because it's raining, and I seem to just be in constant daydream mode;  My mobile phone has completely perished; the screen no longer works; I don't really care.  I have no intentions of replacing it.  I get my dole money this Wednesday; and I'll have about £50.00 to live off for 2 weeks; oh the recurring joys of having to live off the government. I hope I can find a job to get me through the summer, until I start my cadetship.  I've today purchased Dom Jolly's Dark tourism, after being told about it by Mark; one of the guys in my cycling club. As soon as he told me that Dom visited an Iranian ski resort; it was sold to me; "right up my street" I thought; and the first chapter is now out of the way; and I'm looking forward to the rest of it.


Time to walk the dog....

Dan

I wonder, how far from here we'll fall?

I wonder, when I see those annoying "swot the fly to win an I-pod" type pop ups; are people actually that stupid? Does the Go Compare advert actually make people want to go on their website, and compare? I know I don't want to compare anything, EVER again to be honest. Do people really believe that people in Clonmel say "there's method behind the Magners" and it's not some faux dictum created in some magnolia walled, laminate floored board room in some soul-less city?  I won't even go there.

It seems, in this market based society that we live in- that everything and anything is for sale- sell sell sell. For me, on a personal level; I find it cringe worthy! I'd like to think, on a personal level, these attempts to get my custom are counter effective- in fact, I am the type of person who will not forget these "transgressions"- as I like to call them! For example- the food chain Iceland had Kerry Katona, mincing about, posing as a bona fide representation of efficient motherhood and wholesomeness; which vexed me, more than words could represent. I vowed to myself, that I would never ever shop in Iceland ever again; and I haven't- I actually e-mailed Iceland telling them, 'thanks to their forward thinking marketing department; creating the concept of depicting that horrid talentless coke head slag as something she's not' has lost them a customer for life.  A little harsh you might think, but I always remember seeing a clip of Katona on some Living TV programme, prior to her pop career- and it was painstakingly apparent then; than she was a horrible person, and probably a coke head. I made my mind up then, and after just now checking on her wiki page; I was initially pleased that it informed us she was a lap dancer; and topless model, prior to her squeaky clean pop career- yet it omitted the Living TV thing- that seemed a little Stalinist- then, after skimming her page; I noticed that Iceland had ended their contract with her in 2009, because of photographs of her snorting cocaine. How fucking great am I? I'd like to think that that person at Iceland's customer care hub, who read my e-mail back in 2002-ish was feeling a bit small back when it all came out....no...I don't think so either. I doubt it was even read to be honest. The fact remains; while there are people out there who think about things; a vast majority of people are happy not to think at all; and are happy to have what they eat, wear, drink, and listen to; drilled into them by the relentless multimedia machine that is instrumental in the society we live in and it's quite scary, isn't it?  Cold calling, street salesmen, junk mail, pop ups, annoying commercials; they're all on the increase. What the fucking hell is going on? 

 I've always loved observing trends, weather it's fashion, or even music tastes. Try speaking to people about it on an individual basis though! It's a pretty sore subject- they don't want to talk about it- they see them selves as 'individuals' - Fashion is pretty hilarious at the moment; styles will be portrayed, via pop stars on music videos, or 'notable' people in magazines, this usually coincides with the swankier retailers in clothes having the stock; so that the "edgy" types, can buy into the shit first. Then, after about 6 months (although, it used to be longer than this) you'll see jarg versions of what was "edgy" being sold in Primark in mass bulk. Ahh Primark . . . where fashion goes to die.  It seems these days that fashion is sort of dissolving into one big melting pot; and there doesn't seem to be that much diversity- that, or I'm out the loop and I'm glad. I always remember getting myself a pair of Converse All-Star shoes, about 11 years ago- and I was out in Moreton cross in the big house. This was around about 2001 ish; I was under age, and I was drinking in the pub- and I had my converse on, and some fat, ginger, four eyed wank stain, who was a hanger on, of one of the "big cheeses" in the cross shouted at me "eeeeee, get on you in your gay pumps" - "Dangermouse is looking for you" I replied. The blank look on his moronic face suggested my rip had been wasted. Flash forward 8 years (yes, I usually leave it 8 years between visits to Moreton cross) and I'm in the bighouse, and the aforementioned blert; is standing at the bar, only now, the coke head indie fun boy fashion seems to have altered a little....what has Liam Gallagher been wearing? Actually, I doubt Liam Gallagher would wear all stars, but, you know what these 'oasis' fans are like these days; pretty much any band that gets a mention in the nme is cool, and the arctic monkeys are cool, and everything is fucking cool 'man'- including 'gay pumps' apparently. Mind you, I'm a little late in pointing this out; as all stars have pretty much gone full circle. . They're shit anyway; they don't last five minutes(a bit like the credibility of contemporary indie bands -arf arf arf) Practicality for me, now-  It's funny how the consensus acts towards things alien to it, collectively. I remember when red hair would be frowned upon, by the brainless herd; now (well, not exactly, RIGHT NOW, but recently) because pop stars like Rhianna have red hair....they do as well. The North End of Birkenhead is a hilarious place to observe such things.