Jorrocks!

Aaaagh! I seem to be surrounded by smug couples at the moment and sadly I'm single. My status as a single man has to end soon otherwise I shall brutally murder the next happy couple I see enjoying each other's company with smug, oh so fucking smug looks on their faces. St Valentines Day is soon too which just rubs in the fact that I've been single for too bloody long even more. So it's time to don my pinks and go out hunting for a fox.

On the hunt it's only a matter of time before the hounds pick up the scent of my quarry.

There is another post in the pipeline which I will start working on again soon (ed: It's now done see below) and NO Marianne it isn't about cars. Toodle-roo and Tally-ho!

DAMN YOU MARIANNE! Now look what you've made me go and do...

For a while now I've been promising myself that I'd loose some weight and grow a personality and Marianne decided to help me with the weight issue. She hawkishly watches what I eat and bitches at me about my portion control and calorific content. I walk into work most morning with Marianne (her clinic is roughly in the same direction) but a few days ago she rushed off slightly early and assuming that she was miles away I started to dawdle into work. However on the way hunger pangs over took all rational thought (I hadn't had any breakfast because my cupboards were bare OK!?) and I popped into a cafe called Zazu's Kitchen in which I ordered a bacon and egg sandwich to take out. Whilst sitting there waiting for my order Marianne stormed in and victoriously exclaimed "CAUGHT YOU!" The rotten swine had double backed on herself to call on Charlie allowing me to over take her in the process so she could catch me out with a bacon sandwich in my mits.

I won't deny that sandwich tasted damn good but I did feel more and more guilty as the morning dragged on. I decided I needed to do something, like some kind of proper exercise but I don't like the idea of going to a gym with their sky high fees plus I don't have the time or the inclination to do that sort of thing. At this point I should say that there is a strong (and quite militant) pro-cycling lobby in my office with many colleagues cycling into work because they; a) they like to cycle; b) it keeps them fit; c) rush hour in Bristol is appalling and d) Firstbus Bristol are a bunch of thieving bastards who could organise a piss-up in a brewery let alone a bloody bus service. I decided to get a bike and commute to work and back on it which would make my journey into work quicker in the mornings whilst burning the calories on the uphill slog to get home. Work is part of cyclescheme which is some kind of government tax fiddle designed to encourage companies to get their workforces cycling into work. My employer buys me a bicycle and safety kit of my choosing (up to a £1000 worth) and charges me a meager hire fee over the next 12 months before selling me the bike at secondhand prices (10% of original price). My employer gets brownie points for being eco-friendly and a workforce that turns up on time because they haven't been stuck in traffic whilst me, the employee, gets a bike at a low price that's paid for over 12 months. Anyway that very lunchtime I toddled down to see the boys and girls at Mud Dock a cafe-cum-bar-cum-bicycle shop which is an approved shop on the scheme and after waiting for the ubiquitous alcoholic Bristolian to finish talking utter rubbish at the staff I got a quote for one of these...

It's a Pashley Roadster Sovereign with hub brakes and gears (I hate derailleur gears) a huge and comfortable Brookes saddle and an enclosed chain drive to protect the chain from the worst of the elements and my trousers from getting caught in it. As well as getting fit there is always hope that I meet a nice lady too (see above post) as this picture suggests...

A nice bit of rump.

Anyway as for the rest of my life my bank balance is taking a kicking as I shell out for re-enactment goodies and I'm thinking about opening an ISSA for a mortgage deposit. I'm preparing to go out on the journey to the utopia of house ownership through the dark land of debt. I'm becoming an adult...

Nordschleife, Monaco or Mille Milgia?

Firstly I'll apologise for being so rubbish lately and not updating the blog but the post-Christmas/pre-New Year period was ruined for me because I caught a stinking cold. I've also been lacking inspiration and wanting to throttle one of my housemates. Fortunately with Ben, Matt and occasionally Dom capering around my writer's block hasn't lasted too long so here are my latest musings.

Last night down the pub (as always) Ben and Matt started chatting about the £500 challenge and the fact that Laura (Matt's girlfriend) wanted to tag along. Laura didn't want to ruin an all boys adventure so Marianne decided she'd crash the fun saying she'd cover the event photographically and so Laura would feel like she was spoiling our fun. Hmmm. There was further muttering from Matt over insurance (insurance to cover our cars for the Nordschleife would be expensive to put it mildly) and Ben suggested jokingly Monaco. Matt and I both liked the idea but this seemed to set Laura off on one of her erratic turns of temperament. From what I gathered Matt had been mooting an idea that they'd go for a holiday there or something and Laura didn't like the thought of the rest of us crashing their romantic getaway. Charming.

Monaco

Anyway after I got home and was getting ready for bed I thought of a brilliant idea why not head done to Italy and follow the competitors of the Mille Milgia, once an endurance race through northern and central Italy and now a road rally for cars built between 1927 and 1957. When it was an endurance race it was an open race on public roads with racers like Sterling Moss averaging 97mph along the route! Not surprisingly it all ended in tears in 1957 with a huge smash in which 13 people died and it all ended up in court. It then slowly died out until it was revived again in the early '80s. Now at this point some of you will be saying how the hell does he intend to get a rare and rather fruity motor eligible for the Mille Milgia for just £500? The answer is of course simple we don't take part in the event but simply shadow it soaking up the Italian sunshine, the scent of Castrol and the melodious sounds of vintage cars thundering through the confines of the narrow streets of Italian hilltop towns all whilst scoffing great food and snapping photo's of the automotive erotica rumbling past. Our cars' endurance would be sorely tested having to travel down to the event, chase the cars through beautiful countryside and then roar home again with their boots stuffed with the local vino, olive oil, cheese and as many dry-cured Italian sausages that I can find space for. Also we could visit the Ferrari and Lamborgini factories which I believe are just a short detour off the route as well as take in San Marino and Rome which are on route.

The route of the Mille Milgia 2008

But before I warm to the idea of all this I have to remember that both Matt and Ben are philistines and have no appreciation for most of the vintage automotive beauties that'll be doing the Mille Milgia. Ben'll be asking wear all the Japanese performance cars are and Matt will be annoyed because the only German cars he'll probably see are Mercs and both of them will suck their teeth and shake their heads whenever they see an Italian car scream past before arguing over how long it'll be before it breaks down. Bollocks... oh well just a thought...

 

Ben: "A Bugatti"

Matt:"It's not a German made one is it though?"

Ben:"Nope"

Both of them:"It'll breakdown before it reaches the finish line"

Matt:*Squeal of girlish glee* "OOOOoooo!"

Ben:"Ugh ruthless German efficiency"

Matt:"Hmm looks a bit old. I think getting shocks for that thing would be difficult"

Ben:"It's still the devil's work"