Wed Chain Gang - Part Deux (Part un)

Prologue

(this first part might not make any sense unless you have read the last two Part Deuxs)

"Respect The First Amendment" - I watch the last of the placards move away from in front of the windows and allow the watery winter sunshine to shine into the office of Part Deux, once more (yes, I know this is 'Blighty' and we don't have a written constitution, but this is my blog and as an opening line I quite like it.)  Been quite a week again, but at last the 'smell' of Sausagegate has all but dissipated; apart from a slight whiff of sage and leek (with possibly a soupcon of citrus - but I'm not bitter in the same way that a lemon isn't). I have been much heartened by all the support I have received in favour of free speech and shall get around to thanking you all in due course.  Overall the campaign has been successful; (only a few of the 'cri de l'injustice' 'T' shirts in sizes xs and XXXl are now available.)

Had an interesting email from Nigel "I don't get out of bed for less than a grand a day' Tamplin, 'banging on' about how he can't afford the latest cycling gear, here is an exert:

The following article appears to make fun of cycling attire.

http://hastingscc.blogspot.co.uk/2015/01/chain-gang-part-deux.html

I feel ridiculed that my photo is being used to demonstrate what-not-to
wear.

As a poor contract programmer I can only afford to dress in budget Aldi
outfits and not the Rapha and other such brands sported by all the cool
kids.

I will not attend any more wed night rides until the photo is removed.

N Tamplin

I thought you might be interested in my reply:

Hello, Mr Hardup,

I do not accept your criticism because, as you are fully aware, there is very good clothes bank just around the corner from you near Wickes, at Glynde Gap. I recommend that you grease your arm up to the shoulder, go in through the  'letter box' and have a rummage around.  I'm not saying you will 'fish' out any Rapha gear , but you could improvise with any items that you do find: e,g a decent pair of slacks cut easily be cut down to make a fine pair of cycling shorts, and a ladies brassier could be padded with tissue and shoved down the gusset.  If you do 'fish out' any ladies blouses please pass on to Steve C as he will be wearing blouses following his 'no show' at the recent Audax (he particularly likes the floral ones with 'puffy' sleeves (I'm not sure what type Mal D prefers - possibly the ones that 'do up' at the back)

If you require any further assistance, please do not hesitate to contact me again.

The Wiff of Dope Did Not Distract Joe 

See what you've done Neil? in your obsession to dress like The Supers you've gone and upset Nigel by buying one of those fancy tops.

Was quite an interesting night really.  While waiting for the off Steve, Joe and I got a distinct whiff of dope - possibly emanating from the beach huts.  Neil was busying himself checking the tyre pressures on the Supers' bikes, but was getting himself more and more agitated: "Lets get this 'show on the road' for Chrissakes!, some of these guys are pro athletes and they're staring to get cold - c'mon lets move it!!". We were all a bit saddened to see Ivan looking all beaten-up, but it didn't seem to effect his performace!. I was lucky enough to ride with him and was amazed by the power and speed he was getting from those big, chunky tyres.  He sat astride that self-propelled Harley like Dennis Hopper in 'Easy Rider' and 'boy' could he 'put the hammer down' !  I attempted to ride with him on the way back until Mal D came along and spoiled my fun by taking him off at speed I couldn't manage.

Part Un

"It's The Thought That Counts"

Earlier....

"You know what your problem is don't you....?"

 'No I don't , but I'm sure I'll find out soon enough - should I pull up a chair?', I thought to myself.

It's the usual Wednesday evening scenario; I'm preening in the hall mirror, Vicki observing me from the kitchen.  

The thing about thought bubbles is that they should stay as thoughts.  They can sometimes turn into an audible mumble, so it's best to have a 'get out of jail card''. Let me demonstrate:

"Oh, jeeze, your life with me must be such hell!",
"Eh, was did you just say, are you being sarcastic?"
"No, I just said "Oh, jeeze, what IS that terrible smell!"

 "Oh, go tickle my a*** with a feather",
"Sorry, what did you just say?"
"Oh,  I was just saying, particularly nice weather - for this time of year I mean"

"Oh, Bloody hell, **** me, what have I done NOW?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Oh, dear, bless me, super, another new cushion, WOW!"

I love being in my thought bubble; I find it a great place to relax and unwind after a hard day in the pit. Sometimes, especially at weekends, I stay in there all day - not even bothering to get dressed - just wearing my old jogging bottoms.

This was going to be bad.  I recognised the signs: no eye contact.  She was preventing a rivulet of chilled water from reaching the stem of her glass by using her index finger. Simultaneously, a bead of perspiration made it's way down my brow, lingering, momentarily, on the end of my nose before crashing onto the toe of my white Shimano shoe - PLAP!.  I glanced over my shoulder in the vain hope that some other 'poor sucker', having got disorientated whilst walking on the beach, had wandered silently into the hall and was prepared to 'take a bullet for me' - no such luck!.  The rampant stallion of accusation was galloping towards me, with a glint in it's eye, and I was about to receive the 'full twelve inches'!.  The thing is I am, generally, a 'glass half full' type person, so I wasn't ready to bend over just yet.  I kept a small candle burning in the hope that she might conclude the sentence with: "..........you just don't have enough bikes; and I was thinking perhaps we could buy the new 'Giant TCR WKD II', you know the one featured on the cover of 'Cycling Weekly'?. We could treat it as a joint birthday and Christmas present for this year and it's only five grand.  'Cos I've been thinking recently that I don't need any more designer handbags and I could give Majorca a 'miss' for a while".  This was such a wonderful thought it was only with much reluctance that I had to accept that this was unlikely. I mentally went through my current  list of undiscovered, unresolved and unforgiven misdemeanors. 'Mmmm, wonder what she's referring to?'.  I knew she was a bit 'peeved' with me about my 'performance' at last Saturday's dinner party.  She'd said earlier in the week: "I wish you would stop using that same old joke every time; nobody finds it funny.  You know the one from your I.T. days about your boss, with one leg, called Simon?'. I replied with 'Oh, you mean dinner party joke No 78? - that's a real classic!, and, in any case, you know I'm still upset that I never did find out the name of his other leg". (this is my second favourite joke, after the 'Shirley' one, and is, incidentally, the only other entry in my top ten not featuring 'gas'. Yes, I accept that it's extremely cringe-worthy, but believe me, after the second bottle of Rioja - and just before the sloe gin comes out- it's hilarious.)

'Super-commuter' Mark Owen Joins The Chain!

There was also the issues around my recent acquisition of a 5KG tub of 'Chocolate Flavoured Whey Protein' - that I had discreetly secreted into the slide out larder unit in the kitchen.  This was unlikely to be the cause because, although it had created much annoyance to her, I had also 'covered myself in glory'- the perfect 'double edged sword' - let me explain.

Once my purchase arrived I had to find a suitable home for it.  The obvious choice to me was the waist high shelf of the slide out unit.  This involved relegating some of the less important items (such as salt/pepper, honey, various jams & marmalades) to a lower shelf - I'd remembered that Vicki had taught me that this shelf was for the most important items and that the less important items can go on the lowers shelves.  Well, I surveyed the other contenders: 'nah, nothing as important as my supplement', I thought to myself.  There was an immediate problem though: the shelf = 8 inches, diameter of tub 8 1/8 inches.  Just needs a bit of persuading; and with just a few taps from my mallet I managed to ease it into position.  I gave the drawer a test run: it wobbled on it's runners due to the extra weight and was no longer 'soft close'.  These I saw to be minor issues; at least I wouldn't be putting my 'back out' through lifting it from a low shelf - b*stard weighs a ton!  Vicki , although being extremely unimpressed with the arrangement had agreed , reluctantly, that it could stay until I had found a way of removing it from the shelf without using an angle grinder.  This whole scenario could have gone badly wrong for me, but there was a 'twist in the tale'. I managed to use it 'in-situ' for a few days, but I soon realised  there was an obvious design flaw: they had forgotten to incorporate a mini 'Dyson' with the package.  It was impossible to remove the lid - let alone any of the contents - without covering myself and the kitchen in a fine brown mist.   I peered into the tub and spotted a large purple scoop, this I conceded would be impossible to remove cleanly, 'I'll just use spoons and work my way down to it' - I thought to myself.  Anyway, after a few days I decided I would try to remove it while Vicki was at work.  Using grease (the real kind and the elbow variety) and two spoons I finally managed to dislodge it, but I had used so much force that it sort of 'catapulted' out and crashed onto the floor.  The contents had now got seriously shaken up; so much so that when I took the lid off it was like releasing a 'Genie' from the bottle.  Whoosh! the fine brown mist swept past my eyes and immediately formed itself into a mushroom cloud.  It was expanding rapidly and totally engulfed me (this did enable me to confirm a suspicion I had held since I bought the bottle, ergo: If whey really does exist, which I don;t believe it does, it is a totally tasteless and odourless substance because standing here totally immersed in, all I can taste and smell is cocoa!)   I needed to act quickly; I opened the patio doors, but the effect was similar to that of opening a window on a jet aircraft at 30,000 feet.  The 'cloud' was sucked out of the room in an instant and appeared to be heading in the direction of Beachy Head.  I surveyed the damage and considered my options.  I had two hours before Vicki came home: I could kill myself - which I decided against as it would be unlikely that I would achieve my Strava target for the week - or tidy up the mess; which I decided was the only real choice. Everything was covered in a brown haze; apart from the walls and ceiling which were covered in brown 'skid marks' .  I wouldn't have time for a full redec., but decided if I made the rest of the kitchen 'spotless' there was an outside chance that she wouldn't even notice.  I laboured like Hercules until everything was shining like a new pin.  Just in time: Vicki walked in carrying two bags of shopping; which she immediately dropped on seeing my 'handiwork' and stood there open mouthed. I expected a very strong reaction, but the response really shook me: "Oh, darling, I love it!!, how clever of you to continue the rag-rolling paint effect over the ceiling - and all done in cappuccino - which you know is the colour I had in mind for the kitchen. "You must drag me upstairs by the hair immediately as I wish to bathe you in asses milk".  She added only the smallest of criticisms by saying: "Just one tiny thing; I think giving the dog's bowl a stucco effect is slight over-kill, and also, If you don't mind me saying; spray tanning for a man your age is never a good look!  Whilst receiving a hug from Vicki, I caught sight of myself in the mirror, winked and entered another thought bubble: "Win a few, loose a few!

To be continued next time in Part Deux (part deux)......

Peter Buss


Brighton Pier (one hour after the 'cloud' has left Normans Bay)

1st fisherman: "Wow, what an amazing display from those Starlings - mind you it's a bit early this year"
2nd fisherman: "I blame global warming myself"

Bloggers Note:

It goes without saying, so I'll say it anyway that the 'Vicki' portrayed in Part Deux, bears no resemblance to the amazing women I share my life with (a bit like Les Dawson's mother-in-law, it is a bit of poetic licence), however,the 'me' is pretty accurate as I do seem to spend a lot of my time being 'a bit of an arse', I can't help it!