Sins of the father

The thing about being successful in our society is that it enables you to buy stuff.  The more successful, the more stuff, and better stuff.  We buy it because we like it.  And if it stopped there all would be fine. But we are emotional beings, and we form attachments to stuff...your favourite coffee mug, the old jumper that keeps you warm in winter, and so on.  I have been lucky because at a relatively young age, my favourite mug did get broken, but I was told and quickly took on board that it could be replaced.  So for me stuff has generally remained just stuff...though some stuff, presents, for example, I have an emotional attachment to.  Probably the downside to that thinking is that I may buy something, but when something better comes along, I want the new thing...so in some ways it has fed my insatiable desire for stuff.

The one thing I have bought and have broken the rule about emotional attachment to is my bicycle.  Man and machine in perfect harmony, it has taken me thousands of miles up hills and mountains, down valleys, along the straightest of roads, and down narrow, twisty country lanes.  Every yard, every mile has involved sweat, and sometimes tears.  It has given me great joy and an immense sense of success.  There are the obvious big rides London to Brighton, London to Paris, London to Amsterdam, Exeter to Essex, London Revolutions, Birmingham Velo London to Cambridge, London 100  and many more.  I have a fantastic set of medals to remember my endeavours. But there are the smaller rides which have been just as rewarding - cycling round the road track at Lee Valley Velo, doing my short circuits up and down hills to get fit.  I have momentarily faced death when I've been knocked off by thoughtless drivers.  This year has in some ways been the most rewarding - an injury in March kept me out of the saddle for weeks, and generally I have spent the months since regaining my strength to keep me pedaling.  Despite some tricky times when I thought I wouldn't be able to turn the pedal another revolution and could hardly bear to look up from the tarmac on a seemingly ever-steepening hill, I can say I have loved every minute of riding.  And in truth I bonded with my cycle.  I never once thought of replacing it, never looked at another bike and thought I want that one.

The other cycle I own is the one I rode when my son Fred, then 13, and I cycled from Brighton to Buckhurst Hill....that was the most remarkable bonding experience imaginable.  It was a most amazing achievement for him, and something I hope he remembers all his life.

So perhaps you can understand my devastation when, this week our garage was broken into and my motorcycle and my two bicycles were taken.  A tracker device on my motorbike has meant it has been quickly recovered...with relatively little damage.  But my bicycles have gone for good.  I'm devastated.  Heartbroken, because at the moment it feels that with it's disappearance, so too my memories of my cycling triumphs, and disasters, have been damaged.  I am very sad.

Tragically, the two people arrested when my motorbike was recovered appear to be a father and son.  The son is a twelve year-old boy.  That makes me weep.  How could a parent do that to a child?  That child's life is blighted, and generally experience shows, his life is ruined.  There is a pattern to people who get involved criminal activity so young and it is so rare that they make good, that when t does, it makes headlines.  There is not a strong chance they will be convicted either as there was no witness to the crime itself, and that is a tragedy in itself because the lad will feel that he's got away with it, it will boost his confidence to carry on breaking the law.

At home, we are increasing the security measures again, gradually turning a home into a fortress.  Every time we have had someone either break-in or attempt to break in we've added another layer of security.  It's not nice, it doesn't encourage a feeling of comfort and cosiness.

No one is a winner from this.

Out of Africa

It was an extraordinarily happy moment when my son and his girlfriend joined us in South Africa for our safari holiday.  Apart from that, here's the video...sorry it runs to  twenty minutes, and redefines the old phrase about coming round to watch my holiday movies

https://youtu.be/6G4wVBLwmIw

Florence

We headed off to Florence for a few days.  The Muffins were already there staying in an apartment; we checked in to the Four Seasons.  To get to the airport in London, we traveled by Tube for less than £3, we were collected from Florence airport by the Hotel car.  It was a Bentley.  I think I'm a little embarrassed by this.  Florence was boiling - 38 degrees; you could hardly move. One evening we had a picnic in the Hotel grounds - a beautiful hamper in a secluded area.  It was quite magical.  One meal out was quite memorable because I ate ' wild beast in sweet sauce'  that'll be wild boar in chocolate sauce...very traditional evidently.

Other than that, I took a lot of photos whilst we wandered around.

On your bike (again)

I enjoy a good cycle ride...you may know that already.  Last year my 'major' rides were London Revolutions (200 miles in two days circling London), London to Amsterdam and the classic Exeter to Essex... The first tow were organised events, but the latter was just me and my bike, a ruck sack and Google Maps braving 240 miles...I loved this ride as it gave me a real sense of satisfaction.  This year I toyed with the idea of Lands End to John O'Groats, but in February disaster struck.  Excruciating pain in my left hip/pelvis down to my knee....I could barely walk.  I have spent many hours with doctors, physios, osteopaths, in scanning machines and with sports masseurs without being given a definitive answer...or indeed cure.  I'm currently with a cycling specialist and whilst I can still feel pain, I'm a lot better.  Better enough that in June I did a 100km night ride around London.  I love night cycling, especially through cities...the sights and sounds are amazing...you certainly realise that London never sleeps.

And then last week, I rode the Prudential London 100.  That's 100  miles.  In the past I may have worried about my rate of progress, but this time I was more concerned about finishing.  Even though it started from the Olympic Park, which is within spitting distance of home, a requirement to be there 2 hours before departure time meant that I was up at 4.00 am and in the starting gate at 5.30....bloody hell I was tired before I'd turned a pedal!  Anyway, a few aches and pains in the first 26 miles disappeared and my confidence grew even when tackling the extremely challenging Leith Hill and less challenging but infamous Box Hill...after that it was all down hill (well nearly...bloody Wimbledon!).  I finished, got an enormous medal and am very pleased.  The aches are still with me, but my confidence has returned.

Step forward...World Para Athletics come to London

I've done a bit of volunteering in my time.  Not much, just a little bit.  I've bored everyone to tears with tales from the Opening Ceremony of the Olympics, planting Poppies and unplanting them again at the Tower, marshalling at the Tour de France and most recently I helped a poverty charity during the General Election.  In the last week I've been a volunteer at the World Para Athletics Championships in London.  You can get a bit arrogant, or elitist about volunteering, so when I was offered a role at the Uniform Distribution Centre my heart sank...after all handing out uniforms to other volunteers hardly sounded exciting or glamorous.  But how wrong can I be, how much humble pie can I eat.  I learnt more about people in the two weeks than I think I have in the last 56 years.  I need to capture these memories before they fade.

I was with a team of people who inevitably came from so many walks of life that I have never really encountered before.  Ethnically, culturally, socially, intellectually and emotionally there was a complete cross-section of the population.  I had to quickly learn that my experience of working in a lively, robust environment does not work well everywhere...even when your making a joke about blaming others for something that has gone wrong (incorrect size item in a bag) does not go down well in a 'no-blame culture' and amongst people who have higher levels of sensitivity than me. Helping people who did not have the same grasp of the tasks turned from being a bit of a chore to a challenge to something I got real satisfaction from.  Working somewhere I have no power, no authority was an experience for a few shifts, and helped me enormously to understand how people who have to do that all the time feel.  Having conversations with people who have such a different background, different beliefs and different outlooks on life to me was incredibly invigorating and life-affirming.

I discovered that some people have no concept of their body size - enormous people asking for small uniforms and vice versa; people who have genuine body issues; people who, for whatever reason, are miserable; people who are happy and positive again for whatever reason; people arrive looking for a fight even before they start; people who think they deserve to be treated like a VIP because they area volunteer; people who are so chilled and relaxed you warm to them immediately.

Having handed out all the uniforms, I was moved to the practice track where you are exposed to athletes from all over the world.  Many from some of the poorest countries on the planet.  All are disabled in some way.  Yet here they are titans...their achievements remarkable.  More importantly, they are people just like you or me...the same hopes, fears, the same need to be acknowledged as a person.  I was shifting the throwing frames (the stools they sit on and get strapped into for when they do shot-putt, etc).  Each one is individually made...and when you come from a very poor country that means made out of scrap metal possibly badly welded in the back streets of a dusty town..yet the athlete has overcome the challenges and made it to the competition.  Phenomenal.  Chatting with the athletes, being careful with my humour to engage them was immeasurable fun and challenging. Doing something worthwhile for these people was fabulous.

I came away exhausted after long, emotionally, intellectually and physically demanding shifts...but it was like walking on air.  The best thing I've done for a long time...and I hope the lessons have been firmly embedded in my psyche!