Super Green!

I have to apologise to London Alan for a few things.  Firstly, for continuously telling him how to do things.  Which includes but is not limited to: how to ride a bike, how to wash and clean cuts, which way around to eat a sandwich and if I ever saw and so could assess how he did it, how best to wipe his asre! 

Its a cross I struggle to bear.  I'm terrible for it.  I cannot help it.  Ask Kathryn.  Ask most of the guys and girls on my old team at BT.  My family and EX-friends.  All of whom at one time or another have fallen out with me.  Big time.  I am an absolute sod for taking control of any, in fact every situation.  Like the jerk of a character created by Harry Enfield back in the 80s.  If I wasn't so big for sure I'd have been strangled by now.  Here I am on today's bike ride from Brighton to Eastbourne telling folk what not to do...

Secondly, for picking up the faulty camera remote before leaving home.  Which means that London Alan was and will continue to get bombarded with "Am I Green?" questions a hundred more times over the next few days as we cycle along.  I cannot see the video camera atop my helmet you see.  But I can feel the buttons on it which in lieu of the remote can be used to start and stop the recordings.  But because I'm 60 this year and so no longer have a working memory I cannot remember what I last did; whether the helmet mounted camera was recording (red lamp) or not (green).  Sorry London Alan.  I got my crystal balls out, no not them, to look into the future and see my end of days.  Yes.  Here's London Alan at the end of this weeks shakedown rides after my 1000th 'am I green' comment as he forcefully presses home his point that I was becoming a fecking irritant!

 

Yay!  Some good news!  Here she is, my new bike!!! 

Wearing Koga's yellow knickers!  Who I left at home in the garage yesterday roaring her eyes out having just learnt of the new love of my life.  Who I'm currently riding this week all the way from Brighton around the Sussex and Kent coast back to Hearn Bay.  Via Hastings, Folkestone, Dover, and Margate.  And, if that goes well, on the JOGLE thing too.  Dawes?  She doesn't give a damn.  She's happly playing with Brad the Lad’s 22 year old testicles as he continues to ride her to see if he likes riding fast bikes / MILFs.   He's still young and so I'm really enjoying telling him what to do and how best to get a thrust on with the old girl.  That reminds me of the story of my cousin and the Amsterdam prostitute, which I might write about later.  Hmmm.  Said Gary...

Anyway, Myfanwy - as I've named her - has Gusset handlebars and seat post.  Yes you too might ask why her knickers are so far away from her Gusset.  Boy am I gonna have fun writing about this one :-)

Anyway that's day one of the shakedown ride done.  Video to eventually follow.  As I've discovered I've also left my rehydration tablets at home.  Last night I suddenly woke as rigid as an ironing board, no, not because I was having one of those dreams.  No.  Low salt levels after a short, sunny, hot and punchy afternoons ride of approx 29 miles and 2000ft of ascent into Eastbourne meant that I suddenly awoke at about 1am with cramp and hamstrings as tight as piano wires.  Gahhh!  Salt!  I need salt!  Where's my rehydration tablets?  Aw feck! 

I looked like a Dalek on stilts as I wandered into the darkened bathroom to lick on the old salty crusts from around the toilet rim.  

Which I understand is exactly what Brad the Lad did after I coached him on 'how best' to ride Dawes :-)  Good boy!

Cheerio Bye Tata!