Why I love Mr Weenie

Yesterday, Mr Weenie and I went for a walk. We've been attempting to change our usual Sunday routine of pyjamas and toast as I'm now meant to be doing light exercise every day and walking is about my limit.

We went to the shops and were reminded why we get our food shopping delivered. My weird hearing means the ambient noise of other shoppers, freezers etc overwhelms my ears and I turn into a zombified simpleton. I can't hear what Mr Weenie is saying and, as he hates shopping anyway, we always end up miffed and fed up.

On the slow walk home, on which he matched my waddly pace and we ended up walking for what seemed like forever, I saw many cyclists.

The first were laughing over coffee in lycra, four drop-barred bikes chained to the lamppost nearby, clearly having just done a Sunday morning distance run, probably just for fun. I tore my gaze away and we walked on. A couple whizzed by, again on bikes with drops and in long-distance gear, chatting and clearly enjoying the window of non-rain.

I confess, I welled up. I very nearly cried there and then. Forgetting our minor tiff and sweeping me into a cuddle, Mr Weenie asked what on earth was wrong.

I launched into a monologue of love for my two-wheeled companion.

My bike is not just my bike. Reg is the instant mood lifter, the transport that takes me wherever I want to go, when I want to go there, the outlet for my grump when I'm in one and my main source of physical achievement. He's not even in our house at the moment and has been banished to the storage garage as more and more baby things start to accumulate.

I finished, expecting a pat on the head and to be told to stop being ridiculous.

The reply came swiftly: 'Well, let's think about getting you a Brompton then.'

That, my cycling friends, is love.

Ridiculously good mood

Hmmmm, why am I so happy? Could be because:

• I have a new personal best getting to work, 25mins door-to-door.
• It's beautiful weather.
• Mr Weenie has started planting herbs and things in the balcony plant boxes and they look beautiful.
• I'm seeing my lovely sisters this evening.
• My copy of Replay has arrived (written by the marvellous T).
• Reg is still clean and gorgeous after his mid-week wash.
• I ran out to catch the ice-cream man last night and he gave me an extra big Mr Whippy.

All of this has counterbalanced the nasty scratch on my forehead that Mr Handsome gave me last night when he misjudged a leap from my chest to the arm of the sofa. Ouch!

Oh and just because, this was the Thames path yesterday afternoon as I cycled to a medical appointment. Beautiful!

A weekend in the country

This weekend I toddled off to the Chilterns for a weekend of patter songs and drunkenness. The venue is not too far from High Wycombe and, as I knew I'd probably be late and was taking the train, I was reluctant to call for a lift. So Reg came along too.

The weather has been glorious and when I left High Wycombe station it was balmy and beautiful (if one looked away from the passed out drunk guy who'd thrown up on himself). The station is on an incredibly nasty hill so I was anxious not to go the wrong way and exhaust myself. I, of course, then went the wrong way. Once I'd walked Reg back up the hill we embarked on the right course and headed into the country.

I had my bright reflective seatbelt on and had my lights just in case because it's all tiny country lanes (with remarkably smooth tarmac) and cars come haring round the bends. It was mainly uphill but the inclines weren't too steep.

Around 20 minutes of wonderful cycling later I hit THE HILL. The venue for the weekend is up an enormous hill. It's near vertical in places and no one even walks up it. Well I did. I decided it attempting to cycle it wasn't worth the pain and, with my lights on in case of cars coming up, I set off.

A few cars passed me (I moved over for all of them as I had my ears on high alert). What I thought was very sweet was that a cab driver, having dropped off his charges and turned round, pulled over with his window down saying 'Keep going, you're nearly at the top and you're doing really well!' before giving me a cheery wave and disappearing down the hill.

I arrived late for the first rehearsal and ran in in lycra. Moomin had collected my music and attempted to hide her worry and assumption that I'd had a disaster. Reg was duly propped against some fencing for his first experience of being outdoors overnight and Gilbert and Sullivan's Ruddigore was wrestled into submission.

I had a fab weekend seeing people, singing and admiring beautiful small children and, in a flash, my time there was over. Moomin drove a lot of my stuff home to keep down the weight and I headed off into the early afternoon with the sun bright above me and so much suncream on I glistened.

It was mainly downhill to the station and it was gorgeous. One rude station staff member and a missed train later (I couldn't see the bike carriage) I was speeding towards London with a fellow singer who I haven't seen for years.

As we approached Wembley I suddenly realised it would probably be easier to cycle from there than to train to Marylebone, cycle to Paddington and take another train. I whipped out the incredibly useful mapping system on my phone to get my bearings and was soon on the road to Hanwell.

When I arrived I drank a pint of water and had a very cold shower. Blissful.

Must... stop... racing... A2... gasp...

Yesterday I cycled in with S before enjoying an eight-mile ride across London for a meeting. At A2's suggestion I crossed Richmond Park and it was AMAZING.

I didn't know there were cycle and pedestrian only roads through the centre. Smooth tarmac and gorgeous surroundings. Enormous Red deer were right next to one section and they sat looking menacingly beautiful with enormous spring antlers as I slowly pedalled past to take in the sight. They're HUGE close up, but while I kept a respectful distance and kept moving just in case they seemed happy to let me pedal past.

I left the park and headed for the river before crossing one of the locks.

All this was very picturesque but my God I was hot. It was incredibly muggy and the air was alive with the sound of small buzzing insects. I arrived for my appointment sweaty and dishevelled. Luckily, A2 works where I was headed so tucked my panniers away and guided me to a washroom where my carefully packed kit of washing equipment, moisturiser and dry shampoo came into its own. I re-emerged looking far more human.

When business was concluded A2 offered to guide me part of the way home. He knows the area far better than I do so I was grateful for the help. But then it happened. I attempted to race him. I was back in my lycra at this point but I was still laden with two heavy panniers on a mid-range bike compared to his carbon fibre lovely and a small rucksack for luggage.

We whizzed along anyway as we're both fairly quick off the mark but my one overtake (23mph) was an error. Afterwards I panted for some time as A2 discreetly took a notch off the speed to allow me to compose myself after seeing my tomato face and hearing the panty wheeze of someone ill-matched their opponent. He dropped me off and I cycled the rest of the way alone. All in all I cycled around 11 miles home, plus the eight I'd cycled two hours before.

I was a wee bit tired this morning. Probably not a good thing that I had to drop camping supplies to my parents' house for them to drive them to where I'm going this weekend before picking up S this morning. Sigh.... Sooooo tired.....

Sunny!

It's SUNNY!

It's about bloody time frankly, but the sun has finally got his hat on. Last night I nipped to Hobbycraft to get wool for my latest secret knitting project. Coming back I went through the local park along the cycle track and it was gorgeous. Bees, butterflies and golfers, it had it all. Even a grumpy cab driver this morning couldn't bring me down from the high.

This morning I picked up S and we went via the river but not the long route, which we may do tonight. The sun sparkled on the water and the traffic through Chiswick was fairly light. I even got my shorts out and the legs were on show.

Altogether now... Let the sun shiiiiine, let the suuun shiiiine, the ssuuuuun shhining!

Distract your bottom with nice scenery

As it was such a beautiful day, I decided to take S on a route via the river this morning.

We bobbed down to Kew Bridge, crossed over and I was planning to use the Thames path. But it was closed! Grrrrrrrr. Adding 10 minutes to our journey we carried on regardless and went on a more inland route through Barnes. It was beautiful.

What I didn't mention to S is that the route I had chosen is around 3-4 miles longer than our usual route in. Relying on the charm of the river and less traffic, I was confident her muscles wouldn't notice until it was too late! Although some of the roads were narrower the route we went on is a favourite with cyclists and the attitude of drivers (particularly those piloting buses) has been effected. Lots of room was given by most and not a nasty word was shouted.

Sure enough we got to work slightly later than planned because of the path closure. S was hopeful we'd gone further than usual, but not convinced. When I sent her the Gmap pedometer showing nearly eight miles from her house to the office she was thrilled.

I've always thought a beautiful route can make an amazing difference to how your legs, and indeed bottom, are feeling and this morning was the proof. Long may the sunshine continue!

Smiling happy people

The last two days have seen a definite increase in smile occurrence. I even got a little wave yesterday, marvellous!

Everyone from van drivers to pedestrians seems willing to give me a grin as I whoosh past. I often smile at drivers and pedestrians in order to say thank you or, on occasion, to reinforce my moral superiority if they've acted nob-like. In the past though, I have rarely got a smile back.

Perhaps it's the fact that spring is at last looking sprung and the flowers are out or perhaps it's just that all the miserable people have sought help... and Prozac. Whatever it is, it makes a nice change from the usual grumpy faces I see every day.

My current theory is that my vibrant pink tops are finally out after a winter shrouded in a yellow jacket. The weenie butterfly is emerging from her winter cocoon. Yes, the improved mood is definitely all down to me. Weenie's plan for world peace, one postcode at a time.

Froggies everywhere!

I live practically in a park. It's lovely in many ways. Foxes sometimes run alongside my bike when it's dark, I often hear owls and woodpeckers as I cycle home and now that the daffodils are finally starting to come out it's obscenely pretty.

But....

Occasionally nature collides with man. There are a lot of froggies in the road. Flat froggies. I've already run over two of them and been SERIOUSLY grossed out. They were flat before I hit them but eugh. Not nice.

It was nice, therefore, to find one hopping around in the rain on Friday night. He was at the end of the path to my front door and as he was relatively far from the road and obviously enjoying the rain I took a photo and left him to it.

I do like froggies.

Divine retribution and why spring sucks

Ha! After laughing at my lack of memory skills yesterday, my younger sister left her trousers at home when she went riding before work! Mwahahahahhahahahaha.

Anyhoo, everyone at work is loving the sunshine. 'Isn't it pretty', 'The sky is sooooo blue', 'Gosh, it's almost summery', blah blah blah.

Yes it's less rainy, but right now the sun is eye level on both legs of my commute and I arrive sweaty and unkempt while those on the tube aren't yet hot enough to get gross. Roll on the dry heat of summer, where, although I'll arrive sweaty, I'll get to my desk fresh and alert post-shower, surrounded by hot and grumpy colleagues who have been crammed into sardine cans on rails.

Come on sun, get going!

SPRING!

Hurrah, it's finally here!

Last night I set off in what looked almost like daylight and arrived home in a balmy dusk. Glorious.

I have to admit that with the continual rain of recent weeks and not being well last week I was starting to worry that the bloom was off the rose and I was losing the love. It's not the case though and lastnight reawakened my passion. This was especially important given that I had the headwind from hell this morning so needed the rosy glow of last night to keep me going.

The bike racks at work are steadily filling and, this afternoon, I have to man the Ride to Work stall at Employee Wellbeing Day to recruit more people to the cause.

Colleagues are starting to give me envious looks as I head off into the evening breeze and I have a feeling the sudden arrival of spring will have a beneficial effect on getting people involved in cycling.

Whoop!

The downside of sunshine

I came in obscenely early this morning and it was lovely.

The sky was a hazy blue, the traffic was fairly light and I was in short leggings for the first time in what seems like an age.

The sun came up and WHAM!

I had actually forgotten just how bright the sun can be. Right in the eyes going over the hill in Acton.

The weather's been so bad in the last couple of months I'd completely forgotten about the perils of the sun. Luckily my new contacts mean I can put the smoked lenses into my cycling glasses and be fine but I was, of course, in my normal glasses this morning. Sigh.

Taking the train and a fantastic pothole idea!

It was an eventful weekend cycle-wise.

On Saturday, my lovely sister and I decided to see the Wildlife Photographer of the Year exhibition. It was cold but sunny and clear so I went a roundabout route via Kew and Putney on Reg. It was lovely except for the lecture on class structure that I was given by some poncy git who I had asked directions from. What a nob.

Anyhoo, I floated through the city, went along the Thames and just loved it.

I saw some beautiful photographs and had delicious coffee and lots of giggles with said sister before pedalling home via a more direct route. I was cold but triumphant when I got home.

Sunday was a bit less of a triumph. It was pi**ing it down and Mr Weenie was laid up with rugby injuries. I decided to go for it and cycled to do the shopping.

The cats needed food (they're sensitive and only tolerate about two types) so I had to go to Brentford to Pets at Home. The rain was torrential and I got utterly drenched. The shop was closed so I hit the nearest supermarket for human food before returning to get the cat food. By this time it had, of course, stopped raining.

I got home wet and cold. And grumpy. It took most of the day to get warm again and when I looked out of the window this morning and saw the rain, I made a drastic decision. I took the train.

Sometimes it just aint worth it.

In more exciting news, a big thank you to Abby for the link to pothole gardens! What a marvellous idea. Anyone for composting?

Watch out for potholes ladies

Cycling at speed last night I hit one that was so deep I feared for my future ability to procreate.

Puddles, they hide a multitude of sins!

The joy of contacts

I used to wear contact when singing but haven't for years. I just couldn't be bothered.

Heavy rain a couple of weeks ago though made me rethink the issue. The fact is that glasses are not ideal when it's weeing with rain. I stop regularly to wipe mine off but I know many people don't and I don't like the way the water can alter your perspective on curved lenses.

So I decided to give monthlies a go and, if successful, I may well wear those ones you wear for weeks at a time.

Last night I was put to the test, it was tipping it down.

I already own a pair of specialist cycle glasses that came free with a Wiggle order. CC had been borrowing them during the snow. Last night I put my contacts in, put my glasses on and off I went.

What a revelation. My vision was far better and, although I still had to do a quick stop-and-wipe periodically, the specialist glasses are designed to stop the water running down your forehead into your eyes (so you don't get water on the inside) and the water slides off the lenses far more easily. So, in fact, I could wipe them when already stopped at traffic lights when the lack of motion meant steam off my skin misted them up.

Mr Weenie says it's a bit weird to see me without glasses but, hopefully, he just means it's the classic film thing of me letting down my hair and taking off my glasses and suddenly turning into Megan Fox. Fingers crossed.

Eugh.

Sorry, arse too wet and soggy for me to be in any fit state to post. Eugh.

Well that was exhausting

My God it was windy today.

I felt knackered about 10 minutes in and I wasn't the only one. I shared the road with many weary-looking cyclists battling the wind one on more than one occasion saw someone who'd been drafting attempt an overtake only to be battered back into line by the wind.

Eugh.

It ruined my good mood somewhat. What good mood? I hear you ask. Well, since you asked, the good mood caused by my being forced to stop and strip off my jacket halfway to work. It was a hassle but is proof that spring (and therefore summer) is acoming.

I was so hot I felt like I was going to explode so had to take it off for the first time in a couple of months. Lovely.

Clothing etiquette

Clothing takes on a whole new meaning when you cycle. Fashion goes out of the window.

This morning not only was I able to forego my jacket but I wore three-quarter length leggings. Bare leg was on show and I was of course wearing my 'seatbelt'. My Sam Browne reflective yellow belt was glowing in the misty conditions.

It was wonderful. I'd forgotten what it was like to cycle without Michelin-man-like clothing to protect me from the arctic winds of the last few weeks.

I sailed along much faster than of late, even switching the to third and final chainring. Ooooooooo

On Saturday I was in my new overshoes, courtesy of my grandad, who, now in his eighties, has decided to give up cycling. The rain was torrential but my feet stayed warm and, going to the pub and lunch with my sister, I fully appreciated the carrying of spare socks. Mmmmmm toasty.

One lady on the road this morning though seemed unable to throw the last vestige of style out of the window.

When it's damp underfoot and the road's going to coat your chainring and, therefore, feet and lower legs with crud, white knitted Ugg boots are just not a good idea love. I myself own a pair of Goldenram Uggs, bought by my fabulous sister last year, but that road crud is just never going to come out.

If you have to get a puncture, get one at Ealing Common

So off I cycled into the night last night. My colleagues' fears about the snow were completely unfounded and although it was damp on the road the temperature meant the snow melted away to nothing rather than turn into the sheet ice of recent weeks.

I was enjoying the lack of traffic (I worked late) and clear roads when I heard a suspicious sound.

Shh... Shh... Shh... Shh... Shh... Shh... Shh...

It got faster if I sped up and slower if I eased off.

I had a little ponder:
Hmmmmmm, perhaps a leaf stuck on the tyre? Maybe something else? Perhaps the wheel buckled on that last pothole and the rim's hitting the brake? Should I stop? Am only 15-20 minutes from home, I could chance it. No, I'll stop.

I pulled over outside Ealing Common station and good job too. The sound was the escaping air from a puncture. A chunk of glass was clearly visible in my front tyre even in the relative darkness. Fabulously, Ealing Common has a 'foyer' of sorts, it's warm, dry, well-lit and big enough that a cyclist carrying out repairs is in nobody's way. I set to work. As the source of the problem was so obvious I took the extreme step of deciding not to take the wheel off. I released the brake and took the tyre off.

A well-meaning guy from the kebab shop looking into the station came and looked concerned while giving lots of advice. 'You should carry a spare inner tube!' Yes I always carry one but I actually have two with me. 'You should take the inner tube all the way out to find the hole!' I would normally but, actually, I already knew where the hole was. 'But do you have any patches?!' Ummmm yes.

All very well-meaning I'm sure. He even applauded when I got the tyre back on and pumped up.

A member of the station staff then gave me some tissues to wipe my hands with. Lovely.

Mr Weenie had offered to come and get me when I rang to tell him I'd be late because of my puncture fairy visitation but was audibly relieved when I rang to let him know that he could leave his pyjamas on and get the takeaway ordered.

It took me about 20 minutes all in to get repaired and back on the road. I was in a safe, dry, well-lit place with helpful staff if I'd needed anything.

If you're going to get a puncture it was a good place to get one I reckon.

Wet pants. Gross.

Of all the days to forget your spare pants (or panties for those in the US), today was not a good day. I ended up cycling all the way to work because the trains were so badly affected by the snow that's still falling and although I didn't find the roads any more slippery than in heavy rain, the traffic was AWFUL.

It took nearly an hour to get in, normally it takes half that but the cars were stationary and some of them were being very silly. It was bumper to bumper most of the way and tempers were frayed. Desperate attempts to turn onto the main road left quite a few people blocking lanes of traffic and the sound of horns blaring in rage echoed all around.

Many people appeared to have just got into their cars and started to drive without bothering to clear their lights or windscreens. Wipers will clear the windscreen but clear your f*cking indicators people! Nearly hit a guy turning left across me because I couldn't see him indicating. He looked angry at first but went an embarrassed pink when I pointed to his hidden lights.

I carried on passing numerous buses with snow like a thousand tiny marbles hitting my eyeballs.

All that so I could sit safe in the office with the slush of the commute soaking through my nice clean jeans from my soaking wet pants. I just hope no one thinks I've wet myself.

Hot but no cold yet

Eugh, the sweat.

Normally my whiny sweat posts are for summer but I felt hugely gross this morning. A light base layer, jersey and jacket combo meant I was sweating like a pig this morning. Eugh. The steam actually rose out of my jacket when I unzipped it at some lights.

I strode into the Starf*cks near work for a bucket of coffee and saw colleagues shivering and bundled against the cold and I was utterly bemused. I may actually go without a jacket tonight I was so hot.

Not only that but I've escaped nearly every major cold going round this year. The few days I took the train left me sniffling and I'm sure I've stayed well mainly because I've not been crammed into a tube carriage with ill people. Someone should do a study.

I know statistically cyclists take far fewer sick days but this is ridiculous. Every year but this one I've been struck down with a massive coldy lergy and I've had a couple of near misses this year but nothing hideous.

Marvellous.