A most peculiar day...

I took advantage of the royal wedding to first go to an empty sainsbury's. Liking this I got on my bike and enjoyed a traffic free green lanes. I cycled up through enfield and out London proper, taking in a couple of parks and old houses. Lots of horse poo and the roar of the M25.

After a glorious late lunch at clicia, falafel for a change, I met up with my brother Matt. A lot of drinking... A chat with two 'close-up' magicians and a performance artist... I love north London.

Spent today... Slightly hungover.... At rob's. We are performing a tribute to Grant McLennon next weekend at the Lexington.

Ukulele rock

Scotish Adventure

Hi all,
I've taken a couple of days off work to go to Glasgow where my (very supportive and understanding) girlfriend's parents live. We decided to drive up so I strapped my newly-borrowed bike rack to the back of the car and brought my bike with.

I went for a fantastic ride today in nice sunshine and pleasant temperatures. I started off in Newton Mearns, a leafy suburb south of Glasgow. My root took me to Eaglesham, a quaint conservation village and from there a 10-mile uphill slog to Europe's largest windfarm. The ride was great, even though up hill with unrelenting headwinds (no wonder they built the windfarm up there) but it was on a pleasant B-road crossing little streams, flanked by sheep and deer. I passed a number of cyclists, hikers and fishers; all of who stopped to say hello.

At the top of the hill, after a short break to gaze in wonder at the scale of the wind turbines I started coasting down hill. The route I took back was either downhill or completely flat along the A77 which had a properly segregated cycle lane - separate from the main road by a kerb and was very pleasant.

In under an hour I'd completed the 15 mile circuit back to Newton Mearns so decided to do it again. This time slowed down by a puncture (which using my training from Ken and spare inner tube from Warren I was able to fix) but still made it round and home in time for lunch.

I'm now looking forward to the Scottish leg of the trip even more.

Rehearsal

We had another good rehearsal this weekend, kindly hosted by Brian (again). Warren, Dom, Dan and I made it down to Brixton in some lovely sunshine.
This time, we decided to concentrate on just a couple of songs and really worked on the different parts and worked towards making them sound like our own songs done in our style - rather than just strumming through them.
It sounded great by the end and we really made some progress. Warren even committed some notes to paper to make sure we won't forget.
More news, and our new website coming soon.

Rubber soul mate

Rubber Soul Mate

Stop looking at me like that.

I know you're flat.

But don't push it.

I could trade you in, you know,

For a younger model,

All firm

And Bouncy.

How would you feel about that?

What if I started

Schmoozing

With some woozy puncture-resistant floozy?

What then?

You'd be deflated.

Sorry.

I'm tyred.

It's not that I don't care

About your longing

For hand-pumped air.

It's just that I don't really know

Where our relationship is going.

You're putting too much pressure on me

To put

Pressure

In you.

Brighton rocks... and other boiled sweets

As substitutions go, it has to go down as one of the worst tactical decisions in history.

On a previous ride out to Hever Castle, Dan introduced us to the magical properties of the Jelly Baby: a suck on one of those little suckers every hour or so along the route and you get a glorious little sugar rush, and a little hit of nostalgia, too. Arriving at Brian's at 8.30 on Sunday morning (which was really 7.30, yeah, thanks very much daylight saving or whatever you're called, you can stick your clocks and your time-tampering) found the poor man in disarray. His enthusiasm for the Jelly Baby - and, apparently, his inability to stop talking about them - had prompted Jenny to spend the week's shopping budget on a huge consignment for him to take with us on our trip to Brighton. So where, he half-sobbed under his breath as he emptied the contents of the kitchen cupboards, had they gone?

It must have been sleight of hand - I never saw it, I swear - but at some point, in his desperation, and in the continuing absence of Jelly Babies, he must have grabbed whatever came to hand in the darkest recesses of a cupboard and snaffled it into his knapsack. It could have been a half-empty bag of puy lentils or a tin of pears in syrup. But no.

Georgio-Armenian salt-and-pepper liquorice humbugs. Bah.

Mmm. Yeah, they're not bad, actually Brian. Kind of like aniseed balls, aren't they? No... no, I like them. I do. Another one? Erm, yeah. Well... let's just... I'll wait, actually Brian. They're nice though.

What a fantastic ride to Brighton. The sun shining, the wheels whirring and a tremendous route. I think it's the first time that I truly got it - the obsession with bikes and cycling and getting up out of the cosiness of your bed to propel yourself along the roads for the day. Gliding out through country lanes with the wind in your hair (helmet) with a group of chums - Ken, Brian, Dom, Jonny - is sort of, well, sorry for this, meditative. Easily the biggest two hills I've encountered in the saddle so far, Turner's Hill and Ditchling Beacon, the humpbacked monster that blocks out the horizon between the Downs and Brighton, faced up to and yes, given a darn good spanking. Land's End to John O'Groats? Let's have it.

Squeezing ourselves (and our bikes) on a train back out of Brighton, sun-blushed, rather pleased with ourselves, a can of well-earned lager in hand, Brian had one more pop at the prize.

'You know what? Cold beer. This is where these little beauties really come into their own. Anyone?'

Justgiving Page Updated

The Justgiving page has been updated! Its now got a photo and some blurb.

Dig deep and head over to
http://www.justgiving.com/buskersonbikes

London to Brighton, and the green monster

To save energy for the slog to Brighton, I thought I might drop off my bike at Brian’s the day before. I wasn’t expecting to be out-foxed by a couple of presta valves and a cheap pump, but apparently that’s all it takes. I was about an hour late... Luckily Brian’s daughter ( Delilah?) was in to let me lock the bike securely away for the night.

Getting up at the crack of dawn for a bike ride is often a very pleasant thing to do. Fresh morning air, other cyclists,  joggers and dog walkers saying hi. Don’t do it the night the clocks change and then get a tube across London. All I got was a gnawing sense I should still be in bed, and the look of grim confirmation from my fellow early risers.

After a lovely breakfast (thanks Miss S) I set off for Brixton. A bit of banter another attempt to fill the tyres and we were off. The stage out of London is the second hardest bit of the day (more of which later). At one very early stage I realised that a hill had tested my physical abilities to the max, or so I thought.

Once in the countryside we had a good couple of hours of beautiful scenery and nice riding. We stopped for some of Brian’s oddly flavoured aniseed-salt-pepper sweets and some photos, and off again. We agreed to stop for a bite to eat around one O’clock, and passed scenic pub after scenic pub, only to find by one they had all but vanished from the surrounding area. A quick stop in Hayward’s Heath revealed it to be a vacuum both culturally and culinarily... so onward.

We stopped a little later to get a masterclass from Ken on how to change an innertube by the roadside, which I had a perfect view of as I patched the old tube while the other  three struggled with the tyre.

An overpriced, but delicious sandwich and a coke later and we set off to ride up the devil’s own hill. Two cyclists passing by, stopped and asked us where the ditchling beacon was. Brian replied it was that thing blocking out the horizon... he was right. It is a monster. A green monster.

Great view from the top, and for me from the path as I had to walk up. The hill I thought had defeated me earlier was just one hill of many that I managed later in the day. Don't panic relax and keep pedalling.

A fast cruise into Brighton and the bizarre feeling of being back in the traffic again. Warren picked up a puncture at this point. Tickets. A quick Peek at the sea and the train home.

I was able to ride back from London Bridge, and as I got to the hill before my road, which only months ago I found a difficult climb, I smiled. Even tired this was going to be no problem.