38 miles without falling off.

18°C, NW winds CR:38.5 miles

I daren’t ride the race bike on that chain, it looks like another pin is pulling out so I have binned it. The replacement is the same type- a SRAM 870. This time I did not risk joining any links and took off spares in stages before finally using the power-link to finally join the ends. The ride was okay, but unexpected gear changes still happen on the 17t cog.
I bet the derailleur hangar needs aligning- that’s a job for the shop though. the tool is too expensive for occasional use. I imagine that such a fault would allow good gear changes on some sprokets, and not on others. If I adjust the cables, then it merely change which cogs skip about. On this ride, the top & bottom ratios are okay, and the lower-middle ones play up.
Another contributory cause might be bearing wear on the freehub. The Campy service centre said they could fix that.

SRAM Power Link

SRAM Power Link (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

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Sneeze.

16°C, rain.

This has to be the worst hay-fever since I moved to the Midlands. My eyes are filled with tears that fail to sooth the itching. Each day ends with a mild headache which reminds me of that concussion I had a few years ago. There is pressure inside my head, especially behind ear-nose-throat bits. Another victim would blame that cycling tumble at the weekend, but I know this beast from the past.

Maybe soon I will post a picture of the newest fungus that has sprouted in my garden. It’s somewhere between an oyster mushroom and those bracket fungus that grow on tree-trunks. A fine specimen deserves a worldwide internet stage.

Bad end to a mediocre ride

14°C, showers, CR54 miles

A chain break can lead to a bruised bum- I learnt today.

Riding the last mile towards home is s steep hill. On this hill, I was thrown to the road after a sharp crunch and landed on my coccyx. Oh, boy that really did hurt, I had no choice but to swear quite a bit. But then, it could have been worse- I could have crashed down on the cross-bar and you all know what that would mean:

the pain is enough to make a shy boy Buddhist reflect and plan a mass murder

The chain was broken. That chain has been a problem since new- the very same on that tightened up a month ago which made the bike almost unridable. I shall replace it with a new one. Anyway, I walked the last  mile & half home, at least I could coast along the downhill bits which cut off about ½ mile.

Not a great ride then.

Cold summer- what shall I read?

12°C, cool & wet.

I admit, it’s a nice problem to have- which book shall I read next? Canada has the best reviews, or 1Q84 does.
Stalker would be the easiest to get through though I an quite prepared to feel a bit embarrassed by its presence on my shelves. It could easily denigrate into an action story- all shooting & shouting.

1Q84: I have read the first chapter and it has all the magic- it leaves you with thoughts and ways of looking at things. It’s a bit of a beast though, the whole (bound two volumes) could take ages to read at my pace.

Isatis tinctoria

English: Isatis tinctoria, Brassicaceae, Woad,...

English: Isatis tinctoria, Brassicaceae, Woad,

18°C, CR 64 miles, Sunny & sunburnt

Woad: an interesting plant to try out. A friend dropped off a packet of seeds knowing it was the sort of thing that would appeal to me. She was right. they can’t be planted until the end of summer though. I shalln’t make any dye from it but am just more interested in its history and form.

Per-doiing: fixed the gear cables in the racing bike- now the gear shift is very light. then, on a roll, I decided to fix the freehub. Campag freehubs are not as neat as Shimano. There are three pawls that spring out unrestrained when you take the freehub off the hub. Not a great design – Shimano beat Campag to the patents I am told. One spring is broken in this hub but I did get it back together and ride 64 miles today.

Telesales…

13°C, grey.

Phone rings in the middle of the day- no-one I know & it’s a bank holiday:

“Are you the man of the house?
Me: say again.
Are you the man of the house?
Me: What does that mean?”

To this, she hung up.  Man of the house? – I thought that phrase/concept died out in the 1970s. Still scratching my head.
I helped this little chap cross the road today.

She ended her story.

13°C, grey & cool, CR:53 miles

Dear Bessie finished her story today. A story that spanned 14½ years.
Bessie_PenYPont

She became ill just over a day ago while I was on my way to the Lake District. Mum called me back home because she knew it was serious this time, “I think she’s dying Mike”. Her last day was painless as her body failed and finished just before 11am by the vet.

She spent most of those years in this house and witnessed all the changes that occurred over those years. The first day when she was tentatively introduced to us, she ran, full of excitement in figure-8s in the garden. She had a bit of a silly poodle haircut, bouffant & bushes. I clipped off most puffy bits fairly quickly. She didn’t like too much physical contact, at first pulling away from a head stroke. She got used to us eventually.

Though she grew old and slowed dramatically in the last few years, she was always the gentlest soul. A good dog to have in a house of boisterous children. She took with her a story of change, human relations, growth and separation. The last four years the house became calm which coincided with her more restful pace. She has also taken the mysterious prologue- the time before she came into our lives. I know very little of this period in 1997. I do know, however, that she recovered from a bout of Parvo’s virus. Other than that, her time before Bessie’s dynasty is blank.

I’m trying to decide, from all the options, where to scatter her ashes.

Erroneous weather

12°C, rain

The Weather was correct last year- early June days reached 24°C, and summer half-term saw me wading into a mountain lake for a paddle while walking up Nantlle Ridge. This year, the air is cool & rain has formed a strip across England & Wales. This is not the correct weather for June.  Weather sometimes errs.

To avoid this cold front, I may camp up in the Lake District instead of (my preferred) Snowdonia. Bank holiday weekend in the lakes is likely to be busy with English visitors. Getting away from this town is more urgent than usual this year. The local Bower fair has driven me away for the last six years at some cost. But to compound the repellance, England has gone Jubilee mad. Wales is probably a better escape from kitsch royal patriotism than Cumbria. I bet there is some daft sod with union-flag bunting on their tent as I write. Not so in a Welsh campsite I predict.