Posts Tagged ‘Podge’

Colnago C60

Posted: May 25, 2014 in Cycling, Uncategorized
Tags: , , ,

I have always maintained that sometime during 2014, Ernesto Colnago would make me a happy man and announce a new bike for my 60th Year. Well, guess what, Mr Colnago and co didn’t let me down. Their latest thoroughbred from the Colnago Stable is the Colnago C60. I do believe that the C stands for Codge (my alter ego*) and of course 60 stands for my age.

Anybody looking at me new Colnago C60 will recognise immediately that this is a bike of beauty:made by the most talented craftsmen & craftswomen in the cycling industry . This bike is built to deliver on its promise. Its promise is to take the rider to the highest high, to glide across all but the roughest of terrains, to accelerate with ease, to corner as if on rails. This latest addition to the Colnago collection  has to be the crème de la crème.

So, what of the new C60 aka Codge @ 60? The most striking and welcome change is the return to the use of star shaped tubing so analogous to the Colnago I love and, similar to my old trusty Colnago Geo Dream; otherwise know as my Bling Bike.

Also, anybody looking at my new Colnago C60 will also be somebody from the future as I haven’t yet got one :-(, but be assured, I will. Until then, I’ll have to make do with Geo. 🙂

By the way, I’m still looking for an old Colnago Spider Web Frame:

Go Podge, Go

1641 to go…

* My alter Ego’s: – Podge, the Fat One – Codge, the Old One.

 

 

So, 06:45 Sunday Morning: His Podgeness rises from his pit to have an early breakfast before seeking out his trusty Colnago Geo Dream Bicycle  ready to venture out for his first ride a for a long time now.

At 09:00, His Podgeness makes his second cup of coffee (no milk, no sugar) and a cup of tea to take up to the slumbering Mrs Me.

At 09:45, His Podgeness makes a second cup of tea for Mrs Me as she still hasn’t arisen, only to find that she stirred after all and threatening to come downstairs to shatter the peace and solitude. Hmmm, thinks Podge, maybe I should wait and give her company over breakfast.

At 10:30, the decision is taken to go to Waitrose to get some BBQ provisions – the day is after all beautifully hot and sunny. So, His Podgeness puts his bike away and readies for shopping.

12:15, His Podgeness and Mrs Me return laden with food and wine, sits down and has a cup of tea. Podge gets his bike out again.

12:45, Master Matthew rises from his pit after a heavy night out on the tiles celebrating his birthday. No ride just yet, have to give Matt his pressies.

13:30, Master Nicholas arrives from his night out, no reason, just a night out.

14:00 discussions switch to grass cutting; His podgeness seeks out some appropriate attire for cycling while Mrs Me dress’s for mowing.

14:30, at the hint of grass cutting, Master Mathew and Mistress Alice (Matt’s superior half) slope off to the pub arranging to meet Master Nicholas at the local cinema.

The Momentous Moment Arrives

14:50, His Podgeness finally, sets of on his bike: there really should be a fanfare here at the moment but such temptations are to be resisted.

15:15, Master Nicholas helps Mrs Me out with the grass cutting by taking the mower round to the font garden for her (she’s already cut the rear garden), then he also slopes off.

15:40, His Podgeness returns. Sweating like he’d been on a trek through the Amazon Jungle and barely able to lift his leg over the saddle to dismount. “I did it” he announces, “I completed my first ride of the year”

Unauthorised use of this image is VERY naughty. @ Podgethepuffer

Unauthorised use of this image is VERY naughty. @ Podgethepuffer

That’s good said Mrs, I’ve cut the grass. Go and have a shower and then we can both sit down for a nice glass of wine. Perfick, just perfick.

Ride stats:

Distance: – 9.3 miles / Average Speed: – 10.6 mph / Average heart rate: – 156 bpm.

And so, there we have it, 8 hours after getting up, His Podgeness eventually went for ride.

Go Podge, Go

I’m not going to say too much this week, mainly because I haven’t got much to write about. This is possibly a good reason to seek out another adventure, most likely on a cruise ship. There is however a couple of news worthy items (in Podge’s world they’re news worthy anyway) I will mention.

1) My breathing has improved, though there is a twist 😦

2) WheelsForRotary – Ride to Remember in July is Cancelled, though all is not lost.

Health – Having reported to my Vet (more correctly referred to as a Doctor 🙂 ), ready to extoll the virtues of a dairy free diet I noticed his preoccupation with my pulse and readings from my recent ECG and blood tests. With respect to my blood test, he informed me that my glucose reading was 8.3 which could be a cause for concern but he wanted a 2nd test (with no food for 12-hours beforehand) before we got excited over it. My heart however was racing too high for his liking and the ECG suggested an erratic nature. This meant my heart was  not very efficient and so not oxygenating my blood properly. So, next stop for me 1) Blood Test (Again) and 2) Cardiology. Boo. But on the up side, my breathing is improving. Yay.

WheelsForRotary – Clearly, I was over ambitious. Following the success of last years inaugural ride and raising over £5K for charity, my goal this was to repeat the event but on a grander scale and tweak the route so that we could visit the D-Day Beaches in recognition of this year being the 70th Anniversary of the D-Day Landings. And, as it was the 70th Anniversary, I really wanted 70 riders to ride 70 miles a day for 7 days (70 days would have pushing it a bit). Well, I got a lot of good / positive feedback and positive responses from likely riders but I’m afraid the ride wasn’t to be. Confirmed riders just didn’t materialise – and so with such few riders, the event simply wasn’t viable.

There is however, an upside.

The ride has been rescheduled such that all we do is to ride [over a long weekend] from the town of Ligueil in France to  its twin town of Hungerford in the UK but still making a stop at Pegasus Bridge to recognise the D-Day event. And Asthma, COPD, Arrhythmia, Diabetes, whatever I’ve got will not stop from doing this ride and we’ll still raise funds for Warchild and Bruce Trust Barges.

So, it ain’t so bad after all. Yay.

Still means I’ve got to cycle 260 miles though. Boo.

So, with all this going on, Mrs Me and I feel the need of another cruise. Fortunately, we have a short cruise at the end of May when we join the Azura sailing to Bruges and St Peter Port with Alfie Boe. Not literally with him of course but he’ll be on board singing. I have ideas for next year (The Amazon) and even for the following year buy I need to turn them into reality. So for this long Bank Holiday Weekend, I will be perusing the Cruise Brochures and websites to see where I [need] to go.

I might also be getting my bikes back out of the garage to see if the wheels still go round, which I’m sure they., or, should I seek out a new one: Do I really need another one.

Mind you, Colnago have brought out the shiny new Colnago C60 for my 60th Year. Slurp.

As John Wayne might not have said 🙂

I have a confession to make. Back in 2013, I wrote a post called [Milk: Good Food? Bad Food?] where having suffered from a number of chest infections a good dear friend of mine who, if she is reading this will probably throw her arms up in despair and come round to box my ears, advised me to cut out milk and related products. As I so wanted, nay, needed, to get back out cycling and I did actually quite like the idea of breathing, I did as I was told and the differences were remarkable. I’m not saying I was cured but my breathing did improve and yes, I did get back out on my bike and did actually build up to doing 50 – 60 miles rides so that I could take part in a 500 mile cycle challenge though France which consisted of 7-days cycling included 70, 80, or even 90 mile rides. And it felt so good. Podge was back in the saddle. Still fat, but back in the saddle nevertheless.

Sadly, having completed the cycle challenge, my bike was returned to the garage and I fell once into a life of dietary abuse. Yes, I went back to milk products. The lure of Shreddies and CoCo Pops was just too great.  It’s important to note that I could of course justify my actions thus:

  • Shreddies are full of roughage so good for weight management;
  • Scientists, doctors & professors had responded (mainly via LinkedIn) to my article on Milk  to say that there was little or no evidence to suggest that Milk was bad for respiratory problems;
  • Shreddies gave me energy;
  • My breathing was fine now so no need to worry;
  • I had my 60th Birthday and my Wedding Cruise to get through;
  • I liked my Shreddies.

Naturally, and conveniently, I ignored the fact that so many other people with respiratory problems had also responded to my post to the effect that Yes, Milk had been shown to be bad and cutting it from their diets made dramatic improvement.

Thinking back, I find it curious that those in the know (doctors, professors, etc.), really don’t know and those supposedly not in the know (those that actually suffer) actually do know a great deal: They certainly do know that when they cut out milk, the difference is quickly apparent.

Of course, through those winter months and of course my two P&O cruises, all milk related matters faded into obscurity. I’m sorry again Liz. And I gorged my way around the Canaries. I abused my digestive systems all through Christmas and then I just went overboard (no pun intended) in gluttony as we sailed around Australia and on to Singapore.

Then, in March, my health took a turn for the worse which was exacerbated (see, I do know big words) by the worst air pollution London (where I work) has seen for many, many years. This time however, I was really bad, to the point of being frightened, almost to the point of wishing I didn’t have to breathe any more. The Vets, sorry, doctors, put me on a course of steroids and antibiotics. I ate all these up but there was no improvement: walking from bedroom to bathroom still left me fighting to breath. The Vets 🙂 gave me a load more steroids and some seriously sting antibiotics. I ate all these. Still no change, though I diid notice the antibiotics had a strange effect on me, with each tablet having a similar effect to that of eating a tin beans: In hindsight, thats the only effect they had on me. I was still struggling. I went back to the Vets. They were perplexed. I had no infection but I was clearly fighting to breath. So they tried  putting me on water tablets(!). These were supposed to help get rid of any water retention (I made the mistake of telling them that I had developed Cankles while on holiday, which I normally do). Still no effect. I’d had enough: I didn’t know what to do: it was genuinely getting me down, and frightened. And then I had a eureka moment.

As I sat on the Sofa, tucking into my bowl of Shreddies, mixed with Cheerios, I suddenly remembered what I’d been told back in 2013 (sorry again Liz) and I’d actually advocated. Milk, yes, Milk is bad for people with respiratory problems. And not just milk, but products related to milk, such as cheese, which I happen to enjoy as well; though not with my cereals of course, were also bad. And as I sat there, ‘enjoying’ my breakfast even though every spoonful was followed by a fight to draw breath once more, I knew the answer: I had always known the answer. My dear friend Liz had given me the answer yet I’d fallen by the wayside once more. Some people are addicted nicotine (I once was myself, cue COPD); some people are addicted to alcohol (I’m not, but I do like it, honest, I’m not, I just like it, a lot 🙂 ); some idiots are addicted to narcotics (best of luck to them): I however am addicted to Milk, and I needed to kick the habit: I’ve beaten Nicotine addiction so milk should be a doodle. And so, with that thought, I made the  break.

24 hours makes all the difference

24 hours really does make all the difference because having taken milk and milk related products out of my diet, the very next day saw a marked improvement, an improvement that has continued to be so on a day by day basis. My breathing is easier, I’m more relaxed and almost a pleasure to be around. I’m not cured, but I’m getting better. I’m still fat but I’ll get thinner. I’m still old and, I’m glad to say, I’ll get older (a couple of times over the past couple of weeks I did wonder about that). I’m still ugly, but then the Good Lord decided that ugly I would be so I’ll probably stay ugly. Though, as I have told Mrs Me on a number of occasions, I am quite a catch so maybe not so ugly after all. The main point is, my breathing is improving and so long as I stay away from milk, and lose a bit of weight, my breathing should continue to improve. I hope so, I’ve a garage full of bicycles screaming out to be ridden.

And so with that, I really am getting of my milk and riding my bike.

And I don’t care if the effect is Psychosomatic or the consequence of withdrawing milk, the result is the same: I can breath.

Go Podge, go.

 

 

Well, it was a Land of Mystery to us as we had never been to Indonesia and so didn’t know what to expect. For my part I had conjured up in my mind images of exotic sandy beaches, palm trees, beautifully dressed women, crystal clear waterfalls cascading into small lagoons captured in an oasis of trees and bamboo beyond which there would be the rice fields and coconut palms. The only thing I didn’t include in my imagined images was a scantily clad Bounty Bar girl leaning on a plan tree eating a Bounty Bar: but that was only because Mrs Me would have found out and clipped my ear again. And anyway, the bounty bar advert was filmed on Saona Island off the Dominican Republic.  Anyway, what was / is Bali really like?

First of all; Bali is a small island , and the smallest province of Indonesia. Bali can be found sitting between the Java Sea and the Indian Ocean and just 8 degrees south of the equator (so quite warm) and surrounded by coral reefs with white sandy beaches in the south and black sandy beaches elsewhere. Approximately, the island is 95 miles wide and 69 miles deep (taken at its extremities). This was an island full of eastern promise: just like a Bounty Bar! 🙂 – I like Bounty Bars by the way, especially the plain ones…….

There was however one thing that bothered me about our visit: –

Tendering – I hate tendering; I hate it with a passion. I’ve had a couple of awful experiences on such craft the most frightening was on our return back from Mayreau – on the same day as the dreadful Indian Ocean Tsunami in 2004. Anchored off shore, we all headed for the tenders to claim prime positions on the beautiful sandy beaches but not too far away from the bar or the BBQ that the cruise ships staff always set up for us. Having secure our place in the tender we set off for the island, a trip no longer than 10-minutes. Off the tender we got and it was  ‘all charge for the beach’ to claim our spot with our towels then over to the bar for our first drink of the day. As we settled down and watched the waves crashing against the long unspoilt sandy beach littered only with several hundred cruise dwellers, we noticed that this year, the waves seemed to be bigger than normal and were getting bigger as the day went on. One poor woman was even bowled over by one of the waves and only managed to get ashore with the help of two or three other fellow passengers. This was our cue to return to the ship. The trip back was bumpy to say the least.  Once we reached the ship however, bumpy didn’t begin to describe it. Repeated attempts to secure to the ship so that we could get off failed: We we went back out into open water and bounced around while the ship turned to shield us from the waves. It helped a bit it was still very bumpy. Sitting there in this tender, which, for those that don’t know is one of the lifeboats, we were going up and down next to the ship with a rise and fall of a good 2 meters. The tender slammed against the ship’s pontoon with an almighty crack, everybody let out some sort of noise and we tried again. We went up, we went down, we moved away, we moved back, going up and down, side to side backwards and forwards. Eventually however, they secured the tender to the ship and one by one we were almost dragged out of the tender onto the ship. From there, we went to the bar. I still believe to this day that the Tsunami made its presence known even in the Caribbean.

The size of the Island of Bali, and its facilities, and the size of the ship meant that we had to anchor off shore and tender to the harbour side. Then came the next bit. We were to anchor 3-miles out which meant that the journey would be about 30 minutes. And so, on that morning, I arose early so that I could sit out on the balcony with two cups of nice freshly made coffee and watch as we sailed towards the Island and eventually to our anchorage (that’s yet another nautical term :-)). The morning was warm, very warm, around 76f but with a slight haze over the island shielding what is undoubtedly a beautiful island and masking what I believe to be it highest mountain, Mount Agung  which is still an active volcano though currently quite idle thank goodness.

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Now, although the picture is quite hazy, the sea can be seen to be nice and calm and all the evidence (weather forecasts) suggested that it would remain that way so I felt more at ease and just knew that today was going to be a good day. There’s no twist here, it was a good day.

As the ship dropped its anchor, which is just a great big hook, Mrs Me and I went for breakfast – Yes, Mrs Me had actually risen from her pit by this time and broke the peaceful solitude I was trying to enjoy with a “Where’s my Tea” to which I scurried back into the cabin to quickly make her early morning tea so that she would once again become the nice Mrs Me that I know and love rather than the grouchy bed monster.

Having breakfasted and readied ourselves, we made our way to the theatre area from where we were called to the Tender, in batches of 100 or so. These tenders hold a lot of people, even more if it’s used as a real lifeboat. Once aboard, we set off for what turned out out to be a really pleasant 30 minute boat ride As we passed all sorts of craft, from teeny weeny one man fishing boats to massive motor yachts  we moved ever closer to the shore. As we did we passed a whole line of fishermen standing chest-high in the sea fishing, hence the term fisherman :-). Unfortunately, I was stuck inside the tender and getting a picture wasn’t practical (a good reason to return methinks). Eventually, we made land and we all made our way ashore to be greeted by traditional (young) Balinese Dancers and two very lovely Balinese Ladies.

IMG_3732 IMG_3733

Mrs Me and I (having been dragged away from the lovely young ladies by the ear) quickly located our tour guide and coach. Boarding the vehicle we were soon reminded that the general size of Balinese people is a little smaller than us Europeans especially the old fat one that’s writing this. Unless of course, the bus we had was an old school bus. In either case, the leg room between sets in front and our own was minimal. Luckily, for Mrs Me and Me that is, we are able to commandeer two sets each so we were at least able to spread out a little.

Once all aboard, we set off, with the tour guide introducing himself and the driver and explained the itinerary which he supported by giving us all a map of the island with the days route drawn in. The plan was to first visit a traditional weaving ‘factory’ where we would be able to see how cloth and subsequent garments were actually made: from here we were to visit a temple and old court house before going to see a typical Balinese home and finishing with some shopping time in Ubud where we were promised access to much treasure such as paintings, tapestry and intricate carvings, and of course fridge magnets.

On our way to our first port of call we were astounded at the sheer volume of mopeds on the streets, they were without doubt, the transport of choice and could be seen being used for transporting the whole family on one bike, even livestock tied across the back, sacks of who knows what, fishing rods, fish, etc. Once in while however one did go by with just a solitary rider; how inefficient, I thought.

Eventually, we reached the weaving factory (4-coaches had already arrived before us so it was all a bit of a jostle for a while. Once corralled like a her of sheep, we were shepherded into the back of the complex to view the old style spinning wheels and weaving things and looms – I don’t know what they’re called, I’m a bloke after all. What the created however and the ‘apparent ease’ ion which they did it was quire remarkable.

The best bit though was an old car with an old parked in front. It felt just like being in Cuba, or it would have done, if I’d ever been to Cuba, which I haven’t so I don’t really know what I’m talking about, but you know what I mean.

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Next port of call was an old temple. Now in fact, the old temple was actually called Klungkung Kertagosha, a building that contained floating pavilion, and the Royal Court of Justice. Again, we were bus number 5 and so once more we were here’d together before being taken into the complex trying to avoid the myriad of strew sellers who sold everything imaginable, except fridge magnets, all for 1-dollar: our guide did advise us though that once negotiations started, the 1-dollar actually became 10-dollars from which you would need to barter down. We skipped by them and made it unscathed and made our way around to look at the amazing buildings and artistry within.

It was now all aboard for the drive though Ubud, spotting the wild monkeys climbing over peoples cars and onto visit a typical Balinese home. Initially, we overshot it as the driver went straight by obviously missing such an unobtrusive family home. Realising in time however, he turned the bus round during which time all other traffic continued to manoeuvre round the bus as we ourselves were trying to a U-Turn. Eventually, the driver found it and turned the bus into the driveway. Now I’m not a cynic by any means ( 🙂 ) but this typical Balinese home had a coach park that could take at lest 6 buses, we were the fifth to arrive and there was another behind us, it had a massive shop, three dance halls, a carving centre and many other buildings. Nevertheless, it was a fascinating place where we were treated to a display of young children learning the traditional dance moves and the music, while others were displaying the carving abilities. Ten it was off to the shop for Mrs Me to buy something, anything, she just had have something that hand made by these little carving men, hmmmmm.

Time now for the shops.

We’d heard much about where we were going but I can’t help feeling that where we went wasn’t where we were going. We eventually parked up in a small car park and were advised that the local market was just down the high street on the right where we would be able find and barge =r for many locally produced goods, or if we wanted to, have a beer or soft drink. On our way however, we were accosted by a never ending sting of street vendors offering their produce, fans, belts, things, for 1-dollar.  We eventually made the market which was in fact a string of tat shops. We did however find some suitable fridge magnets, so we made our selection and paid the man and headed back to the coach park. On the way, Mrs Me saw a woman sitting down in the kerb with her little girl of about 3-years old, selling fans. Mrs Me took out all our Balinese Money and gave it to her in exchange for a fan. The woman was dumfounded but happy and Mrs Me was happy too so this meant that I was allowed to happy also. See, I knew today would a good day.

At the allotted time, we all boarded the bus for our trip back to the port where we would once more have that 30-minute tender back to the ship. As it happened, there was little cause for worry. OK, it was a bit choppier but given what we’ve faced in the past, this was nothing and it need the two attempts to tie ourselves to the ship for us to all get off with relative ease. Mind you, we were glad we weren’t using the ship that was actually in port.

Yes, Today had been a good day, we had seen Bali, we had enjoyed Bali, we would happily return. Bali was good.

Now, where’s the bar.