Among the many things lost in the flood was my anti-baby pills so today I toddled off to the family planning clinic feeling like an irresponsible teenager and worrying they'd send me to the STI clinic by mistake again (this did actually happen, on taking my sexual history the nurse just looked at me, laughed, and asked what the hell I was doing there, I felt like such a prude).
I had a lovely doctor who weighed me and revealed I've lost a stone in two months. Hooray.
The doctor made me weigh myself twice to be sure and congratulated me on my achievement. She then beamingly turned to the body mass index (BMI) chart and proudly pointed out that I after all that hard work and slog, all those rainy rides and forcing myself into condom-like shorts I am now slap bang in the middle of the overweight category.
Seriously. Why do I bother?
She then took my blood pressure and said it was 'worryingly high'. Was I stressed?
Well, my father's still recovering from a major stroke, my arthritis is playing up, I'm hugely stressed at work because I had to take the day off work on Friday for a massive leak that's ruined my bedroom, forced me to move all my belongings into the living room and sleep in a room that smells of mould, damp and wet plaster and you've just told me that even though I've lost a stone all it's done is taken me out of obese and put me in the merely overweight category.
No I can't think of anything, everything's f***ing peachy thanks.
Wednesday, 27 May 2009
Tuesday, 26 May 2009
Sunburn and feeling like you've pooed yourself
So the sun was out and it was a gorgeous bank holiday weekend for the first time in what seems like decades. If it wasn't for the colossal leak into my bedroom from the flat above it would have been great but it did put a damper on things (sorry).
And all weekend it was about bikes.
On Thursday night I rehearsed with my choir and M, my idol in terms of cycling was giggling about the padded shorts I wore. She's in her mid-forties, doesn't look it and cycles everywhere, but whenever I see her she's in her normal clothes. When I asked why she didn't go for the padded shorts option she giggled demurely and, in her cut-glass accent, explained: 'I can't help feeling like I've shat my pants and it's too distracting cycling while fearing that disaster's occurred!' Point taken.
Then the leak happened and I had to take the day off on Friday to move various belongings shout at insurance people and deal with the fallout. Whenever I get close to an 100-mile week something scuppers it. Sigh.
On Saturday I saw my grandparents and, along with Moomin we drove out to Buckinghamshire to have a cream tea. My grandad was a serious cyclist back in the day and we talked about various cycling bits and bobs all day. Grandma said it was fab that he had someone else to talk to about it. I also realised where we went made a fabulous cycling destination for myself and Cyclechick as we've been looking for somewhere nice to go.
On Sunday there was high tension in the Weenie household. Following the leak all our bedoom stuff is in our (small) living room. Mr Weenie and I were forced to sleep on an airbed in the rammed living room even though his feet went off the end by a considerable margin and it was very narrow. We were both grumpy from lack of sleep and Mr Weenie was forced to do paperwork all day to earn money to repair damage from said leak. As I strutted around vying for his attention and whining I was bored he sighed and suggested I go for a cycle. So I did. I had no idea where I was going but ended up on the cycle track along the A40 and it was lovely. Then my massive red, took a week and half to arrive and I've had it one week, pannier broke. Sigh. (Chiswick Evans are hoping to fix it tonight.) I managed to bungie it onto my rack and came back via Ickenham. I saw horses, pheasants and lots of birds (no idea what they were but they were pretty).
On Monday Cyclechick and I decided virtuously that we should meet up and cycle round Richmond Park. When we met in Kew the weather was undecided on its intentions so we sensibly locked up and went for a drink while the weather decided on its next move. It cleared up and became quite hot, so hot, in fact that the only sensible option was to remain on our outside pub table, watch the cricket on Kew Green and have a natter before cycling home. Two beers and a virtuous pineapple and soda later I arrived home sunburnt. Ouch.
And all weekend it was about bikes.
On Thursday night I rehearsed with my choir and M, my idol in terms of cycling was giggling about the padded shorts I wore. She's in her mid-forties, doesn't look it and cycles everywhere, but whenever I see her she's in her normal clothes. When I asked why she didn't go for the padded shorts option she giggled demurely and, in her cut-glass accent, explained: 'I can't help feeling like I've shat my pants and it's too distracting cycling while fearing that disaster's occurred!' Point taken.
Then the leak happened and I had to take the day off on Friday to move various belongings shout at insurance people and deal with the fallout. Whenever I get close to an 100-mile week something scuppers it. Sigh.
On Saturday I saw my grandparents and, along with Moomin we drove out to Buckinghamshire to have a cream tea. My grandad was a serious cyclist back in the day and we talked about various cycling bits and bobs all day. Grandma said it was fab that he had someone else to talk to about it. I also realised where we went made a fabulous cycling destination for myself and Cyclechick as we've been looking for somewhere nice to go.
On Sunday there was high tension in the Weenie household. Following the leak all our bedoom stuff is in our (small) living room. Mr Weenie and I were forced to sleep on an airbed in the rammed living room even though his feet went off the end by a considerable margin and it was very narrow. We were both grumpy from lack of sleep and Mr Weenie was forced to do paperwork all day to earn money to repair damage from said leak. As I strutted around vying for his attention and whining I was bored he sighed and suggested I go for a cycle. So I did. I had no idea where I was going but ended up on the cycle track along the A40 and it was lovely. Then my massive red, took a week and half to arrive and I've had it one week, pannier broke. Sigh. (Chiswick Evans are hoping to fix it tonight.) I managed to bungie it onto my rack and came back via Ickenham. I saw horses, pheasants and lots of birds (no idea what they were but they were pretty).
On Monday Cyclechick and I decided virtuously that we should meet up and cycle round Richmond Park. When we met in Kew the weather was undecided on its intentions so we sensibly locked up and went for a drink while the weather decided on its next move. It cleared up and became quite hot, so hot, in fact that the only sensible option was to remain on our outside pub table, watch the cricket on Kew Green and have a natter before cycling home. Two beers and a virtuous pineapple and soda later I arrived home sunburnt. Ouch.
Thursday, 21 May 2009
The sweat crack, eugh!
This is an announcement worth doing a second post in one day.
Boys, if you have to wear lycra, wear black
I'm still recovering from the unnerving experience of staring at a pair of light blue shorts with what appeared to be a navy stripe up the bottom crack area. I was forced to follow this particular lycra junkie up a large hill and over the time I was behind him it slowly dawned that there was no stripe, there was only bum-sweat. Oh God, why, WHY????????????
Boys, if you have to wear lycra, wear black
I'm still recovering from the unnerving experience of staring at a pair of light blue shorts with what appeared to be a navy stripe up the bottom crack area. I was forced to follow this particular lycra junkie up a large hill and over the time I was behind him it slowly dawned that there was no stripe, there was only bum-sweat. Oh God, why, WHY????????????
Getting lost
Last night I cycled to Liverpool Street from Hammersmith and then from there to Paddington.
It was all very exciting. Especially because I got lost both ways.
After a beautiful ride past the Royal Albert Hall and tootling through St James' Park I suddenly realised I had no idea where I was. I headed in vaguely the right direction and got to my target of the Victoria Embankment before tootling up Bishopsgate. I tell you what though, going through a tunnel on your bike is no mean feat. It's noisy and frightening. There's a cacophony of different sounds bouncing off the walls into your ears meaning you have no idea where cars and bikes are in relation to your bike, it's eerily orange from the strip lighting and if a car edges too close you have nowhere to go. I think next time I'll come off the embankment before the tunnel.
On the way back I managed to miss the London Wall and ended up going past St Paul's, doubling back, taking an odd turn, going into Holborn and finally landed on Oxford Street, and I know the way from there.
In one way, getting lost on a bike is a bit rubbish, at one point I got off the road, fished my AtoZ out of my pannier and stood looking puzzled on the pavement before going forward but, actually, it's much less stressful than being in a car and being lost.
I've navigated for many people in cars as I don't drive and am quite good with maps and when you've taken a wrong turn it's a nightmare. You're hugely restricted by the road system and, unlike a bike, you can't pick up your car, wheel it across the road and double back on yourself. Nor can you enjoy the balmy spring evening while tootling about.
I never really get very scared when lost on a bike, I remain firm in the knowledge I'll find my way eventually and, as long as you carry a good map with you, you won't be lost for long.
It was all very exciting. Especially because I got lost both ways.
After a beautiful ride past the Royal Albert Hall and tootling through St James' Park I suddenly realised I had no idea where I was. I headed in vaguely the right direction and got to my target of the Victoria Embankment before tootling up Bishopsgate. I tell you what though, going through a tunnel on your bike is no mean feat. It's noisy and frightening. There's a cacophony of different sounds bouncing off the walls into your ears meaning you have no idea where cars and bikes are in relation to your bike, it's eerily orange from the strip lighting and if a car edges too close you have nowhere to go. I think next time I'll come off the embankment before the tunnel.
On the way back I managed to miss the London Wall and ended up going past St Paul's, doubling back, taking an odd turn, going into Holborn and finally landed on Oxford Street, and I know the way from there.
In one way, getting lost on a bike is a bit rubbish, at one point I got off the road, fished my AtoZ out of my pannier and stood looking puzzled on the pavement before going forward but, actually, it's much less stressful than being in a car and being lost.
I've navigated for many people in cars as I don't drive and am quite good with maps and when you've taken a wrong turn it's a nightmare. You're hugely restricted by the road system and, unlike a bike, you can't pick up your car, wheel it across the road and double back on yourself. Nor can you enjoy the balmy spring evening while tootling about.
I never really get very scared when lost on a bike, I remain firm in the knowledge I'll find my way eventually and, as long as you carry a good map with you, you won't be lost for long.
Wednesday, 20 May 2009
Why so few women cycle - mystery solved
I've had a eureka moment and it concerns the freakishly low numbers of regular lady cyclists - they don't realise cycling's purchase potential....
Since I bought my bike, I have devoted many, many hours to the sourcing of new kit, drooling over expensive kit I can't afford, desperately trying to find ladylike gear for casual rides and buying appropriate clothing. Ladies, there is no limit on the amount you can spend if you cycle.
Not only that, but the mental justification for each purchase (which so many of us need in order to feel good about spending money on silly things) is so easy.
'But it's waterproof', 'But I'm saving so much on travel', 'But I need a pink Pashley Poppy for cycling to interviews as it looks far more professional that the muddy mountain bike I normally use to commute on', and, my personal favourite, 'I need another bike in case one breaks and I need a spare....'
It opens up a whole new world of spending and it's beautiful. There's the practical clothing and gear you need for everyday commuting, there's the more transferable clothing that can go from cycle to around town without looking weird, there's reflective for when it's dark, sunglasses when it's sunny, jackets, shoes, trousers, leggings, shorts and whatever else you can think of. Not only that, but some of it's designer.
Plus, having lost a stone myself purely from cycling, you can eat chocolate, McDonald's and other digustingly naughty foods while feeling completely guilt-free, it's a truly beautiful sport.
Since I bought my bike, I have devoted many, many hours to the sourcing of new kit, drooling over expensive kit I can't afford, desperately trying to find ladylike gear for casual rides and buying appropriate clothing. Ladies, there is no limit on the amount you can spend if you cycle.
Not only that, but the mental justification for each purchase (which so many of us need in order to feel good about spending money on silly things) is so easy.
'But it's waterproof', 'But I'm saving so much on travel', 'But I need a pink Pashley Poppy for cycling to interviews as it looks far more professional that the muddy mountain bike I normally use to commute on', and, my personal favourite, 'I need another bike in case one breaks and I need a spare....'
It opens up a whole new world of spending and it's beautiful. There's the practical clothing and gear you need for everyday commuting, there's the more transferable clothing that can go from cycle to around town without looking weird, there's reflective for when it's dark, sunglasses when it's sunny, jackets, shoes, trousers, leggings, shorts and whatever else you can think of. Not only that, but some of it's designer.
Plus, having lost a stone myself purely from cycling, you can eat chocolate, McDonald's and other digustingly naughty foods while feeling completely guilt-free, it's a truly beautiful sport.
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