Hello Ian!

Go on. Have a guess. Guess what I had for tea last night. You would for sure know if you knew what I was doing!  LOL!  Go on, guess :-)

Well.  It’s a lovely sunny spring day again today and theres only 2 weeks to go before me, Brad the Lad, London Alan and David the Gentle Giant begin our 600 mile cycling holiday. LOL!  Holiday!

So that’ll be us up and out on our bikes to the Outer Hebrides which should be spectacular in its 100 plus miles of west coast wilderness then the long way down to Edinburgh where London Alan leaves us. David ejects himself on the bombing run into Inverness and me and the Lad then meet Southside Mark on our final leg into Carlisle. 600 miles or so all in the Scottish mountains. After which I will probably go to bed and stay there until the 31st October.  

Now there’s a memorable date. Halloween. ‘Hello' Ian (as I said to him when I arrived all sweaty and hot at his front door yesterday), one of my later bosses at BT, used to do stupendous Halloween parties at his house in Preston. It’s a scary place cos his hobby post his retirement is producing 3D replica busts of all our favourite villains and heroes. His new loft studio is plastered wall to wall with stunning models of Indiana Jones, Darth Vader, Freddie from Friday the 13th and-the-like plus so many others. All  the gruesome characters used to come down from the loft on that special day. If you know someone who is a Star Wars or horror movie nut and you’re looking for that extra special present then he's the man to speak to.  Proper Madame Tussauds quality stuff. He's also done a big model of a booby bird - I think cos he likes boobs. 

600 miles in the Scottish mountains is quite daunting for us 60 somethings.  Practice miles matter as one gets older and unlike the Lad for sure I don’t have 26 year old legs any more.  So its time to do those longer in the saddle back to back days  - not to help my legs  - no they're quite capable nowadays what with the weight loss ‘n all that.  No I need to toughen my arse!  

I’m away from home on the 0710 train where I spent a little time speaking to a retired American couple. Going to Blackpool are you? I enquire.  No Blackburn he says.  Good idea I tell him unless he wanted to visit the UK’s poor persons Las Vegas.  You know the manky US version from the 1930’s full of flies and dead horses and shove ha penny machines.

My cycle route today started on the sea front in Blackpool, a place full of hens that cannot afford to fly south to sunnier climbs for their parties. Then away fighting the crap nav and crap one way system into the countryside towards Preston so I could call in to say hi to the weirdo and his wife Di. 

Preston. Yeah. As ugly as Ian’s gargoyles.  It was bombed by the British during the Second World War to eradicate the UKs fledgling Tesco’s Nazi Headquarters as it was easy to blame the Germans for it (the bombing that is - not Preston ...).  Talking of bombing runs.  It must be 08:59.  Gotta go!

I’m back.  Wow, I must've been a torpedo bomber back in the day.  Boy, were the rails well greased or what!  Not a ripple as it hit the water.  I know I’m riding along the Leeds Liverpool canal but it’s not got what I’d call targets of opportunity upon it!

Ahem. Yes, Halloween. An exciting and perhaps scary time for kiddies but only if their parents make the effort to go to their local Tesco's and buy from their seasonal selection of old Nazi uniforms and grimacing Hitler masks - or as they call it - their corporate wear - which is available in black, and a jaunty shade of taupe for those hot summer days - and nightmarish Headmasters. 

As I cycle I reflect often on days past. Last year for example I got into the swing of Halloween.  At a previous 'Hello' Ian event I dressed mysen up just like that suited dude with the human skin mask and wide brimmed hat from the film the Texas Chainsaw Massacre, even going as far as borrowing a broken chainsaw from a tool hire shop in York.  I made a mask out of cream felt (aka skin) and wore a shaggy black wig and a wide brimmed hat, an old brown suit and a ‘blood’ stained apron.  Happy to say I looked quite the part; in fact brought the busy reception at Preston's City Centre hotel to a standstill as I exited in costume via the wannabe Tesco customer service receptionist where I handed the large pair of scissors back to her and said in a deep dark twisted voice, "thank you. The couple in room 22 aren't making any noises anymore"! LOL!

I learnt something that night.  Complete strangers get really scared if you just look at them and say nowt.  Bit like my early dating years come to think of it. Very  good muttered one woman as she quickly scooted her kid down the dark hotel passageway ….

So to last years Halloween.  Our estate nowadays goes for it in a big way.  I bought about 15 quidsworth of penny sweets n dumped them in a big bowl.  I put coloured LED lights under the car in the dark corner of my drive, turned the house light out, dressed myself in black and put the home made mask snd black wig on. And waited.

I think the word went around the estate post the first victims screams and before I knew it I had parents with kids stood at the end of my dark drive gently encouraging their little uns to walk all alone up to my door - and knock…

Now you learn some importantly things quickly  

1.  Don't say a word -  perhaps breathe a little heavily behind your mask

2. Stay in the shadows

3. Crouch down low

4. Move slowly

5.  Use with care unless you want an ambulance to visit  

Its a grotesque combination for children of a certain age.  The very young ones have no fear in the same way they’ll pick up spiders and take them to mommy who then screams and runs away.  Yes parents singularly are very good at teaching the innocent how to be neurotic.  However once indoctrinated…

I had one girl refuse at the first fence - she made a great run up at which point I put my head low down out of the door and with a “NOPE!” She ran back to mum…

Another terrified young boy came close to me repeatedly screaming “WHO ARE YOU? WHO ARE YOU?” as he backed away…. He for sure didn't sleep that night….

Two more died at the door. Another young fairy screamed, ran away and grabbed mum hard around her legs with a “mummy!” Even with encouragement to come back and take sone of the sweets out of the bowl which I held grotesquely out - with a NO! NO! NO! she wouldn’t budge!

I couldn’t stop chuckling. I’d bought 15 quids worth of sweets.  It was the best 15 quid I’d ever spent :-)

Mums were shrieking with laughter!  Time to experiment. I tried 3 ways of opening the front door. Suddenly as soon as they knocked.  Nope.  Not a strong reaction to that.  Then waiting in the shadows.  Nope.  Just simply slowly opening the door, squatting down and saying nowt was the best tactic.

However there are 2 types of kids. The greedy feckers - like pigs in a trough when offered the bowl - full of excuses to gorge themselves like can I take some for my brother who's too ill at home?  Nah. Feck off I mimed. Greedy council estate types destined to be teenage dads unless enrolled in the army and go fight in the new cyber wars to best clean their seed out of the gene pool. 

Then there’s the polite young ones who when presented with all their christmases in the one bowl just take the one sweetie and politely say thank you. I reach in to the bowl, grab a handful and with a grunt or two encourage them to take. Bless them.

There you go. For many years I’ve never partaken in the celebrations. It took me until my 60th year to find the fun in it. 

Thank you Ian for showing me the way. 

Anyway today is a bike ride to Bingley to meet with Mary or issit Hairy Jane and his partner, Fred. 

The Brown Cow is our destination tonight. You’ll never guess what we’re having for tea!  I’ll probably draw comparisons tomorrow :-)

Ciao for now