Its probably fair to say that in the last ten days, I have spent at least six of them dedicated to learning the laws of cricket. Picture Paola and I, armed with the MCC laws, a box set of the ashes, a vat of coffee and nothing but our fearless determination in the face of overwhelming ignorance pushing us onwards.
First thing this morning the pop quizzing started late last week resumed, with many although not all answers finishing with 'have a humbug'. Sadly tonight's exam may have highlighted that six days of competative pop quizzing over the email system does not an umpire make.
To be fair the evening started poorly, and we at least made it over the starting gate and arrived at the exam site which may or may not push us above the self proclaimed Ginger Rocky in the ranking. Clearly fate was not on the team's side as Clapham Junction and Balham decided to have simultaneous nervous break-downs reducing the Umpiring examiners to near tears as their preciously planned evening was disrupted by late arrivals and cancellation phone calls.
But by question ten it would be fair to say I was unsettled. During the 10-20 period (a phase we will henceforth refer to as the 'dark time') I was concerned I might not make it to the end. Fortunately I experienced an unexpected upsurge of confidence throughout the LBW section, proving that BN can teach you just about anything, but then I hit the wall of time allocation, penalty run calculation and the mysterious questions of practise on the pitch, missing players, and which dead balls have to be called dead and which you are allowed to leave in peace.
Despite my protestations that I am not expecting to experience any 'dissent' on the mountain, it is essential that I know the laws for managing such occasions (which according to the gentlemanly laws of cricket involve taking the captain aside and gentley suggesting he might like to have a chat over pimms with his players and suggest to them that acts of violence have no place in the game). Otherwise I can threaten them with a report to their regulatory body, who is presumably Kirt who will beat them into submission on the way down the mountain.. although if I'm backed up at the strikers end by Mr Waters I can presumably ask him to pelt them with humbugs...
By the end I was whimpering at my desk desperately trying to add up penalty runs, remember whether you call wide when it has passed the striker or the wicket and trying to establish in a question which was described over several paragraphs which runs would be debited against the bowler, which the batsman got credit for and whether the collective head scratching around the room was nits, or a genuinely hard test.
Anyway... faces did not look the most confident at the end of play, and I think Hill Senior is considering whether he could have more productively spent his time... not least the five hour round trip just for the exam.
On a positive note with Rocky himself having had to miss the test we should be able to prime him with enough of our remembered answers to get at least one accredited umpire between the six of us... the pass mark is set at a blistering 80% it turns out we may be facing ongoing revision sessions, or taking one of the bearded folk from the course up the mountain.
I feel perhaps it was an evening that could have been more enjoyably spent eating pancakes... but that will have to wait til next year now...
Tuesday, 24 February 2009
Wednesday, 18 February 2009
Back to school
So this weekend was spent at Umpire School, which I can assure you is filled with some of the most interesting people on the planet. Day one started with some exceptional planning which saw me getting up at six in the morning in order to trek from streatham via wimbledon to fulham, to get into BN's car and drive through Wimbledon and south streatham to eventually head to Caterham. Nice additional round tripping, who needs a lie in anyway...
Arriving 40 minutes early was praising God for the provision of coffee. And the extra large tin of biscuits sighted early on. Thank god there was. A full hour and a half later on the ‘spirit of cricket’ alone, and I was considering gnawing off my own arm just to give me something to do. Still at least for me some of the information covered was news. If you’ve played cricket since you could walk I should imagine this would be like ancient Japanese water torture.
Break one and Paola was still enthusiastically questioning what was what, and the guys were pouring coffee down, by lunch spirits were flagging and there was increasing concern about the liklihood of safe exit in time for kick off. Fortunately by virtue of giving vicious looks to anyone who asked any questions and flashing a charming smile to the lecturer, edging him closer to the heart attack in the offing we escaped safe.
It is worth mentioning that probably Paola and I could have asked for anything at any point in the whole proceedings, and been granted it on a golden platter, so excited were the random cricket geeks by the concept of women's cricket and the presence of female umpires to be. I don't think this excitement was actually sexual, just a slightly patronising bemused enthusiasm for all things cricket related. I think they might cry if either of us fail!
Fortunately by the end of day two we were in a position to pass 9 out of 10 mock questions, getting the final one wrong along with the rest of the entire class. Not sure I'm getting the answers right based on an actual understanding of the laws, but at least I'm fully versed on the spirit of cricket, and will be encouraging the players not to commit acts of violence and to thank the tea ladies...
Arriving 40 minutes early was praising God for the provision of coffee. And the extra large tin of biscuits sighted early on. Thank god there was. A full hour and a half later on the ‘spirit of cricket’ alone, and I was considering gnawing off my own arm just to give me something to do. Still at least for me some of the information covered was news. If you’ve played cricket since you could walk I should imagine this would be like ancient Japanese water torture.
Break one and Paola was still enthusiastically questioning what was what, and the guys were pouring coffee down, by lunch spirits were flagging and there was increasing concern about the liklihood of safe exit in time for kick off. Fortunately by virtue of giving vicious looks to anyone who asked any questions and flashing a charming smile to the lecturer, edging him closer to the heart attack in the offing we escaped safe.
It is worth mentioning that probably Paola and I could have asked for anything at any point in the whole proceedings, and been granted it on a golden platter, so excited were the random cricket geeks by the concept of women's cricket and the presence of female umpires to be. I don't think this excitement was actually sexual, just a slightly patronising bemused enthusiasm for all things cricket related. I think they might cry if either of us fail!
Fortunately by the end of day two we were in a position to pass 9 out of 10 mock questions, getting the final one wrong along with the rest of the entire class. Not sure I'm getting the answers right based on an actual understanding of the laws, but at least I'm fully versed on the spirit of cricket, and will be encouraging the players not to commit acts of violence and to thank the tea ladies...
Thursday, 22 January 2009
Travel ... 3
Just been reading Vicks Nicks blog. Which includes this beautiful excerpt about the Blue Mountains.
Our 3 day walking trip to the Blue Mountains between Christmas and New Year continued the stamina testing as we took off around the rolling mountains of the incredible local scenery - the walking also helping with the fitness as we climbed over 1000 ft amongst the blue/green haze of the eucalyptus trees. Here I saw some of the most breathtaking scenery I have ever seen. We descended almost vertical rocky steps to the floor of the thick rain forrest below, the noise of birds and ciccadas almost deafening. The dense bright green canopy of the ferns and vegetation above was pierced by streams of dusty golden sunlight filtering through the leaves, the sound of rushing water close by from huge waterfalls emerging from high in the rocky canopy, tumbling over the rocks and throwing a spray of rainbow droplets above us.
Let me tell you about my experience of the Blue Mountains.
Get up stupid o clock Sydney time. Fight Tristan for the shower (not easy when he is in bleary early morning grizzly mode). Take a local bus at rush hour to get down town to Sydney Central, and find a train.
Discover at this point that the cash point won't give me any money. Why not? Because my bank finds Australia such an extraordinary place to go to that it has put a hold on all my cards. All of them. No switch, no visa, no mastercard. Running rapidly low on cash I smile at Nat in the hope she'll bail me out possibly indefinitely. Or at least until I can shout at some automated system running 12 hours behind.
So, ticket borrowed from Natalie's purse we take the 2 hour train out to the Blue Mountains. It comes to our attention at this point, that it is unquestionably raining. But not being faint hearted tourists, are we going to turn back. Never.
So we arrive at Katoomba. Described by the tourist website as charming, quaint, with points of cultural interest, it is clearly in fact, cheap, touristy, and overrun with souvenir shops. Anyway, I digress. We head immediately to the tourist information spot and tell the guy at the counter we want to go for a run. See I run Australia too. Enthusiastically he outlines a 10 k run, through the beautiful rain forest, taking in the sights etc. He then hands us a paper map. Did I mention it was raining?
Obviously I'm over prepared for rain, having been told that Australia at Christmas was likely to be cold, dreary, downpours of rains...
So I'm there in my running tights, tee-shirt and a woolly hoodie (and I don't mean snazzy merino woolly hoodie). I mean once dorothy perkins jumper. Hearing your man at the desk mumbling something quietly about leeches we set off. Jogging through the concrete town, towards the cliff face.
And we arrive at the start of the scenic part and we are definitely getting wet. Natalie (my erstwhile companion) is wearing a snazzy waterproof. I am considering jogging with my umbrella up. I reach this point later in the trip.
So the beginning of our run is in fact a metal stair case. Did I mention it was raining? So for metal stair case you can read neck breaking, ankle fracturing death trap. Running clearly not an option. So we walk, attempting to get down as quickly as possible, but in fact slipping and grabbing at handrails in a frantic manner.
As we get towards the bottom, I might add that I am not seeing "The dense bright green canopy of the ferns and vegetation above was pierced by streams of dusty golden sunlight filtering through the leaves" but I think it would be only fair to admit the "sound of rushing water close by from huge waterfalls emerging from high in the rocky canopy". Rushing water... you're not kidding. I'm worried we are going to be swept away and there is no sign of the rain letting up.
So cheerfully assuming we are now at the beginning of a beautiful 10k run through the floor of the forest we start off, and run probably all of about 2 k, before it is clear that what now faces us is another bloody metal stairway. At this one is directly vertical. Sod grabbing the handrails, I'm looking for the ropes and harness to get up the cliff face.
Scrabbling up the cliff face, we understood this is the section of the trip guaranteed to provide stunning views over the three sisters. Did we see it. Did we bollocks. Not a single sight to be seen, other than the increasingly bedraggled English tourists wearing clearly inappropriate wet weather gear trying to run up and down a mountain and not looking particularly cheerful about it.
As we stagger back towards town I am now so wet, there is no point holding an umbrella. And we decide heading home on the next available train is a good manoeuvre. At this point it becomes apparent that the man at the desk had in fact been mumbling about leeches. Now I'm not wild about girls being squeamish generally, I say get on with it, but there is a black slug like object fastened to my calf, getting bigger by the minute. And Natalie is struggling to get it off. Its attached at both ends. Double mouthed leeches. Only in Australia.
It becomes apparent as well, that it is not a socially appropriate to de-leech yourself on a public train. So we sit. With a definite tension, trying to figure out what number of leeches have wormed their way into our shoes. It does not look good, because there are four or five of them working their way out of our shoes and moving stealthily into the train carriage. Clearly this leaves us with two options. 1) responsibly announce to the passersby and fellow passengers that we are in fact carrying a blood sucking infestation, and it is on the move or 2) sit quietly, occasionally flicking leeches from ourselves down the carriage and planning our escape route... Hmmm.
Arriving back in Sydney we are still wet. Cold. Having our skin chewed by little blood suckers, and we now have to negotiate a train, and a bus before we get back to Tristan's house. Preferably arriving before he, or his lovely wife, get back from work and find us de-leeching in his bathroom. Its a close run thing. And he may have been confused finding the tub of kitchen salt in the bottom of his shower.
So, not quite the scenic charming rolling mountains scenes Miss Nicks appears to have enjoyed.
Ah well.
Just been reading Vicks Nicks blog. Which includes this beautiful excerpt about the Blue Mountains.
Our 3 day walking trip to the Blue Mountains between Christmas and New Year continued the stamina testing as we took off around the rolling mountains of the incredible local scenery - the walking also helping with the fitness as we climbed over 1000 ft amongst the blue/green haze of the eucalyptus trees. Here I saw some of the most breathtaking scenery I have ever seen. We descended almost vertical rocky steps to the floor of the thick rain forrest below, the noise of birds and ciccadas almost deafening. The dense bright green canopy of the ferns and vegetation above was pierced by streams of dusty golden sunlight filtering through the leaves, the sound of rushing water close by from huge waterfalls emerging from high in the rocky canopy, tumbling over the rocks and throwing a spray of rainbow droplets above us.
Let me tell you about my experience of the Blue Mountains.
Get up stupid o clock Sydney time. Fight Tristan for the shower (not easy when he is in bleary early morning grizzly mode). Take a local bus at rush hour to get down town to Sydney Central, and find a train.
Discover at this point that the cash point won't give me any money. Why not? Because my bank finds Australia such an extraordinary place to go to that it has put a hold on all my cards. All of them. No switch, no visa, no mastercard. Running rapidly low on cash I smile at Nat in the hope she'll bail me out possibly indefinitely. Or at least until I can shout at some automated system running 12 hours behind.
So, ticket borrowed from Natalie's purse we take the 2 hour train out to the Blue Mountains. It comes to our attention at this point, that it is unquestionably raining. But not being faint hearted tourists, are we going to turn back. Never.
So we arrive at Katoomba. Described by the tourist website as charming, quaint, with points of cultural interest, it is clearly in fact, cheap, touristy, and overrun with souvenir shops. Anyway, I digress. We head immediately to the tourist information spot and tell the guy at the counter we want to go for a run. See I run Australia too. Enthusiastically he outlines a 10 k run, through the beautiful rain forest, taking in the sights etc. He then hands us a paper map. Did I mention it was raining?
Obviously I'm over prepared for rain, having been told that Australia at Christmas was likely to be cold, dreary, downpours of rains...
So I'm there in my running tights, tee-shirt and a woolly hoodie (and I don't mean snazzy merino woolly hoodie). I mean once dorothy perkins jumper. Hearing your man at the desk mumbling something quietly about leeches we set off. Jogging through the concrete town, towards the cliff face.
And we arrive at the start of the scenic part and we are definitely getting wet. Natalie (my erstwhile companion) is wearing a snazzy waterproof. I am considering jogging with my umbrella up. I reach this point later in the trip.
So the beginning of our run is in fact a metal stair case. Did I mention it was raining? So for metal stair case you can read neck breaking, ankle fracturing death trap. Running clearly not an option. So we walk, attempting to get down as quickly as possible, but in fact slipping and grabbing at handrails in a frantic manner.
As we get towards the bottom, I might add that I am not seeing "The dense bright green canopy of the ferns and vegetation above was pierced by streams of dusty golden sunlight filtering through the leaves" but I think it would be only fair to admit the "sound of rushing water close by from huge waterfalls emerging from high in the rocky canopy". Rushing water... you're not kidding. I'm worried we are going to be swept away and there is no sign of the rain letting up.
So cheerfully assuming we are now at the beginning of a beautiful 10k run through the floor of the forest we start off, and run probably all of about 2 k, before it is clear that what now faces us is another bloody metal stairway. At this one is directly vertical. Sod grabbing the handrails, I'm looking for the ropes and harness to get up the cliff face.
Scrabbling up the cliff face, we understood this is the section of the trip guaranteed to provide stunning views over the three sisters. Did we see it. Did we bollocks. Not a single sight to be seen, other than the increasingly bedraggled English tourists wearing clearly inappropriate wet weather gear trying to run up and down a mountain and not looking particularly cheerful about it.
As we stagger back towards town I am now so wet, there is no point holding an umbrella. And we decide heading home on the next available train is a good manoeuvre. At this point it becomes apparent that the man at the desk had in fact been mumbling about leeches. Now I'm not wild about girls being squeamish generally, I say get on with it, but there is a black slug like object fastened to my calf, getting bigger by the minute. And Natalie is struggling to get it off. Its attached at both ends. Double mouthed leeches. Only in Australia.
It becomes apparent as well, that it is not a socially appropriate to de-leech yourself on a public train. So we sit. With a definite tension, trying to figure out what number of leeches have wormed their way into our shoes. It does not look good, because there are four or five of them working their way out of our shoes and moving stealthily into the train carriage. Clearly this leaves us with two options. 1) responsibly announce to the passersby and fellow passengers that we are in fact carrying a blood sucking infestation, and it is on the move or 2) sit quietly, occasionally flicking leeches from ourselves down the carriage and planning our escape route... Hmmm.
Arriving back in Sydney we are still wet. Cold. Having our skin chewed by little blood suckers, and we now have to negotiate a train, and a bus before we get back to Tristan's house. Preferably arriving before he, or his lovely wife, get back from work and find us de-leeching in his bathroom. Its a close run thing. And he may have been confused finding the tub of kitchen salt in the bottom of his shower.
So, not quite the scenic charming rolling mountains scenes Miss Nicks appears to have enjoyed.
Ah well.
Monday, 19 January 2009
An ode to the Hill
Travel... Mark 2
His home I found here?
A boat with his name on
A cargo of beer
And when he comes home
Worn out at the dock
He can have his full English
Right here at the Hog
Worn out at the dock
He can have his full English
Right here at the Hog
But can you see the downside?
I just think I can
The obligatory, overpriced
quite scary Man Tan
Monday, 5 January 2009
Planes, Trains and Automobiles
So, I have been away for so long, that I will have to blog in sections in order to fully catch up on my own expeditions. Otherwise I will have to blog at length like Mr B-N, so this will be installment one.
Travel.
Apparently I've gone a long long way, to a big big place. And realised that actually long haul flights are not all that entertaining... so you have to keep your eyes open for good stories. People watching ... so here are the top entertainers from my journeys.
Coming in at number five, is the random man who sat next to me on a very long overnight train journey. As Tristan kindly pointed out, there are a million better ways to get between Sydney and Brisbane, but the train had been selected, and Tris had plans to cook a Turkey in a Weber, and I didn't want to be around to watch the fallout.... So I'm sitting, studiously listening to music and giving out my best don't talk to me vibes, when random aussie man starts to point out the local features we are going past. Now I might add at this juncture that I do not remove my headphones, or give any polite interested smiles and nods, but do we think that this discourages him? Not a jot. And the quality of the commentary is not good. "That's an island" - really mate? What gave it away, the fact it was totally surrounded by water. I'm not listening to you, but I'm not blind. "Those trees, they're Eucalypt you know", well knock me down with a telegraph pole. I've never been more fascinated. I had to run away from him at a station stop, and I kid yee not, the guy followed me out onto the platform chatting away and pointing out wildlife. Which was limited to things that may or may not be living underneath tin cans and old bricks if only we could see them. Worst kind of friendly freak.
At number four is definately all air hostesses on Cathay Pacific. Now my understanding of the air hostess role may admittedly be limited, but I had understood that there are certain key tasks which are required. And ladies, if you can't reach the over-head lockers, you are going to find your job a challenge. How may people does it take to put a case in an overhead locker. Final count was five. Would have got up to help but I was doubled over laughing at this point.
Number three may go down as an all time favourite travel story. So much so I may start to pass this off as my own. So I'm on a boat, sailing the fabulous Whitsundays, and chatting to one of my fellow travelling / holildaying types and he tells me about the best place he stayed in Thailand. He arrives, and his mate has booked them into a 'hotel'. (For hotel I think we can read total hovel on the wrong side of town). So going into their 'double room' they find a large rat, on their bed looking at them. Undeterred they do not leave the hotel. Hardened travellers, put up with rats not a problem. But they do ask the staff to cover up the hole that appears to lead from their bathroom wall straight to the local gutter. Piece of cardboard in hand, staff appear, and cover hole. 3am, undoubted scraping noise coming from inside bathroom. Rat (which in my mind and all future versions of this story roughly the size and weight of a jack russell), rat is trying to get into the bedroom. Presumably he's lonely. Rat has also chewed off all the cardboard and pulled the bathtowel into the gap. So far standard rat related Thailand story. Until I hear that when they got a member of staff to help, he pulled the bath towel out of the hole, and put it back on the towel rail, carefully smoothing down the wrinkles and making sure it lined up with the other one. Hmm. Bring your own towel. Always.
Second best travel moment, and it was a close run thing, is probably my late at night disorientation on the Greyhound. It is obligatory to have weirdly timed extended stops, usually about five minutes after you got on, and in a dirty cafe somewhere on the outskirts of town. This was no exception. So, I get out to meander around the cafe (I am an obediant traveller - they tell me its a stop, I get out and look at the sequined eye masks and deflated footballs for sale). Now, rule for getting off your coach in the arse end of nowhere? Perhaps to pay attention to where your coach parked?? So I come back out of the cafe, get onto the first Greyhound I see, and sit contently in my seat. For about five minutes. Before I notice the chap across the way is looking at me out of the corner of his eye. And to be fair, I don't remember having a chap sitting across the way before. And now I think about it I don't remember my coach looking quite like this...
But enough of that, by far and away my most amusing travel observation was the gentleman on the 13 hour flight to Hong Kong. Gets to seat, gets towel from his bag, sits in his chair and places towel over his head. Please note this is before the lights have been switched off. He goes straight to sleep, bolt upright and remains motionless until breakfast is served. I know, I got up several times to check.
Brilliancy. Will have to look out for similar oddities on the trip to Nepal... I might try the towel sleeping manoeuvre. Maybe he knows something we don't??
Travel.
Apparently I've gone a long long way, to a big big place. And realised that actually long haul flights are not all that entertaining... so you have to keep your eyes open for good stories. People watching ... so here are the top entertainers from my journeys.
Coming in at number five, is the random man who sat next to me on a very long overnight train journey. As Tristan kindly pointed out, there are a million better ways to get between Sydney and Brisbane, but the train had been selected, and Tris had plans to cook a Turkey in a Weber, and I didn't want to be around to watch the fallout.... So I'm sitting, studiously listening to music and giving out my best don't talk to me vibes, when random aussie man starts to point out the local features we are going past. Now I might add at this juncture that I do not remove my headphones, or give any polite interested smiles and nods, but do we think that this discourages him? Not a jot. And the quality of the commentary is not good. "That's an island" - really mate? What gave it away, the fact it was totally surrounded by water. I'm not listening to you, but I'm not blind. "Those trees, they're Eucalypt you know", well knock me down with a telegraph pole. I've never been more fascinated. I had to run away from him at a station stop, and I kid yee not, the guy followed me out onto the platform chatting away and pointing out wildlife. Which was limited to things that may or may not be living underneath tin cans and old bricks if only we could see them. Worst kind of friendly freak.
At number four is definately all air hostesses on Cathay Pacific. Now my understanding of the air hostess role may admittedly be limited, but I had understood that there are certain key tasks which are required. And ladies, if you can't reach the over-head lockers, you are going to find your job a challenge. How may people does it take to put a case in an overhead locker. Final count was five. Would have got up to help but I was doubled over laughing at this point.
Number three may go down as an all time favourite travel story. So much so I may start to pass this off as my own. So I'm on a boat, sailing the fabulous Whitsundays, and chatting to one of my fellow travelling / holildaying types and he tells me about the best place he stayed in Thailand. He arrives, and his mate has booked them into a 'hotel'. (For hotel I think we can read total hovel on the wrong side of town). So going into their 'double room' they find a large rat, on their bed looking at them. Undeterred they do not leave the hotel. Hardened travellers, put up with rats not a problem. But they do ask the staff to cover up the hole that appears to lead from their bathroom wall straight to the local gutter. Piece of cardboard in hand, staff appear, and cover hole. 3am, undoubted scraping noise coming from inside bathroom. Rat (which in my mind and all future versions of this story roughly the size and weight of a jack russell), rat is trying to get into the bedroom. Presumably he's lonely. Rat has also chewed off all the cardboard and pulled the bathtowel into the gap. So far standard rat related Thailand story. Until I hear that when they got a member of staff to help, he pulled the bath towel out of the hole, and put it back on the towel rail, carefully smoothing down the wrinkles and making sure it lined up with the other one. Hmm. Bring your own towel. Always.
Second best travel moment, and it was a close run thing, is probably my late at night disorientation on the Greyhound. It is obligatory to have weirdly timed extended stops, usually about five minutes after you got on, and in a dirty cafe somewhere on the outskirts of town. This was no exception. So, I get out to meander around the cafe (I am an obediant traveller - they tell me its a stop, I get out and look at the sequined eye masks and deflated footballs for sale). Now, rule for getting off your coach in the arse end of nowhere? Perhaps to pay attention to where your coach parked?? So I come back out of the cafe, get onto the first Greyhound I see, and sit contently in my seat. For about five minutes. Before I notice the chap across the way is looking at me out of the corner of his eye. And to be fair, I don't remember having a chap sitting across the way before. And now I think about it I don't remember my coach looking quite like this...
But enough of that, by far and away my most amusing travel observation was the gentleman on the 13 hour flight to Hong Kong. Gets to seat, gets towel from his bag, sits in his chair and places towel over his head. Please note this is before the lights have been switched off. He goes straight to sleep, bolt upright and remains motionless until breakfast is served. I know, I got up several times to check.
Brilliancy. Will have to look out for similar oddities on the trip to Nepal... I might try the towel sleeping manoeuvre. Maybe he knows something we don't??
Sunday, 7 December 2008
Vacation vacation vacation
15.49 Sunday afternoon. Have finally packed my bags. Progress...
Trek is really coming together, largely because of the outstanding work being put into it. There are guys out there who must be working 24 hour days to run a job and do this stuff. Makes you want to step it up yourself.
From my side though despite all this and another inspiring meeting at Lords, I am now dropping out of the game for the next 3 weeks, and I'm seriously doubtful I will get any fitness work done during my time away. Still perhaps I can do physio and read about cricket... Highest 3rd umpire in the world? Not sure I'm overly qualified, but there's a job role to aim at.
Best head off, flights wait for no man and all... No doubt extended entry following this 25 hour flight I have to survive...
Trek is really coming together, largely because of the outstanding work being put into it. There are guys out there who must be working 24 hour days to run a job and do this stuff. Makes you want to step it up yourself.
From my side though despite all this and another inspiring meeting at Lords, I am now dropping out of the game for the next 3 weeks, and I'm seriously doubtful I will get any fitness work done during my time away. Still perhaps I can do physio and read about cricket... Highest 3rd umpire in the world? Not sure I'm overly qualified, but there's a job role to aim at.
Best head off, flights wait for no man and all... No doubt extended entry following this 25 hour flight I have to survive...
Wednesday, 19 November 2008
Just like old times...
I seem to have resumed an old routine. Work out, come home, carbo load, excrutiating physio session, work out, come home, carbo load etc... I seem to have more training fixtures in my diary than social ones, so I'll apologise if by the time we're heading up the mountain I'm fit and healthy, but have lost the knack of general conversation.
Making my life even more retro feeling is work being back in the headlines. Seriously impolitic to comment here, but for those of you who actually have a sense of what I do, you might get an idea of why my department is a little over-worked this week. Just goes to show you can have bad weeks in the public sector...
Fortunately I get to escape the office on Thursday and go to the lovely town of Wigan (always a silver lining).. So having just made it home from the trim trail, (cycle back speed significantly slower than cycling there speed) I shall be up in 6 hours or so to get a train at an unGodly hour. I really hope Euston station sells decent coffee at 6am, otherwise I'm going to have to issue a formal apology for my colleague who gets to hang out with caffeine deprived Curr for the 3 1/2 hour journey.
Tragically deprived of one of my few social events therefore, and not able to come to the trektator / tenzing gathering. To be fair, this may have divided my loyalties... so far I'm Hillary all the way, but I'll be waiting to hear reports of whether Tenzing lifted their game Thursday night and if they recruit trektator alliances...
Naturally back Saturday am to see what evils the other Sharland has in store... but at least I can watch some rugby after that!
Making my life even more retro feeling is work being back in the headlines. Seriously impolitic to comment here, but for those of you who actually have a sense of what I do, you might get an idea of why my department is a little over-worked this week. Just goes to show you can have bad weeks in the public sector...
Fortunately I get to escape the office on Thursday and go to the lovely town of Wigan (always a silver lining).. So having just made it home from the trim trail, (cycle back speed significantly slower than cycling there speed) I shall be up in 6 hours or so to get a train at an unGodly hour. I really hope Euston station sells decent coffee at 6am, otherwise I'm going to have to issue a formal apology for my colleague who gets to hang out with caffeine deprived Curr for the 3 1/2 hour journey.
Tragically deprived of one of my few social events therefore, and not able to come to the trektator / tenzing gathering. To be fair, this may have divided my loyalties... so far I'm Hillary all the way, but I'll be waiting to hear reports of whether Tenzing lifted their game Thursday night and if they recruit trektator alliances...
Naturally back Saturday am to see what evils the other Sharland has in store... but at least I can watch some rugby after that!
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