26th November 2018 Tricyklist [nearly] decapitated by lorry ice!

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Monday 26th 32F, clear with bright sunshine, light winds and thick white frost. A strange roll of cloud hung over the horizon. Gorgeous Bullfinches scattered on my arrival at their roadside tree. I haven't seen one for ages.

Having avoided several close misses by assorted service vans, I reached the first corner. Where a sheet of 15mm thick ice had obviously slid from a goods lorry and smashed right where I would have been walking. Talking of which: I am still waiting to see two lorries in a row where both drivers are not both on their hand held, mobile phones. 

I have long given up expecting to ever see a van driver with his hands and mind free for the task of driving. You wouldn't expect anybody willing to risk other people's lives, by using their phone while driving, to have any moral compunction to provide a quality service. Would you? 

Would any heavy goods, lorry driver, willing to use his phone behind the wheel of a multi-ton, 7-axle, heavy vehicle, on a narrow twisting road, really give a shit about dangerous ice on the roof of his container or tarpaulin cover? How would a people-trafficked, Filipino, heavy goods driver, living on the bare floor of a sociopath's shipping container know anything about ice? 

How would you feel about driving all day, for peanuts, after yet another night spent on a hard, shipping container floor? Ask a household name, sociopathic, transport company owner. Then ask yourselves why several household name companies continue to use his services. While knowing the hideous truth about his highly illegal operation from all the news headlines. Sociopaths, of a feather, stick together?

Tuesday 27th 32-36F, light winds, early cloud clearing to bright sunshine. Not such a white frost as yesterday's but still stayed white on the grass all day. The ice was still hanging around on the corner where it had slipped off a lorry roof. A pheasant was pottering on the drive but not much else to report.

In breaking news: Herr Chancellor Chump, the world's leading authority on Climate Change, does not believe his own government's latest and direst climate change report. "I don't believe it!" The world gratest [sic] ever intellect and self proclaimed orator is reported to have said. In a rather obvious and pathetic plagiarism of Victor Meldrew's now infamous denial of everyday reality. Nah, I don't believe Chump is real, either.

Meanwhile General Motors is slashing car production and th shedding 14,500 jobs despite massive US taxpayer's subsidies. I had no idea Tesla had punctured the CO2 powered, US car market already. CO2 is back in fashion! Soaring upwards after a fake lull thanks to Chump's energy policies debated and duly passed with a majority on Twatter. I hate to brag but I was much too busy for a ride today.

Wednesday 28th 33F, breezy and heavy grey start with some sunshine, lots of cloud and gales promised for later. This morning may be my best chance for a ride this week. I'll have to see if I can obtain a gate pass from The Head Gardener.

A savage gash in the Danish landscape made by gravel thieves. [Image: Courtesy of The International Space Station.]

But first I had a walk up to the woods via the marsh and spray tracks. Where I found the big pond was thinly frozen over. Except where the ducks were maintaining a narrow landing strip. Two large herons lumbered into the air and fought a losing battle with the wind. As they put on a slow motion, aerial display and pretended to circle.

I returned the other way after a big loop up through the forest. A bit eye watering at times because of the gusty wind. The woods were bleak and crispy underfoot. Only a thin, orange rim around the edges of the sky hinted at any potential for sunshine today. More like sub-shine, in fact. Talk of the devil, we are enjoying a [very] brief splodge of brightness as I type. It wont last! And didn't, as the the wind quickly picked up to a gale. No ride today.

Thursday 29th 36F, overnight gales and rain continuing. The Danish news is that energy consultants have been milking the system to earn a fortune when advising farmers and businesses on energy savings. Making £5-10k [equivalent] per hour is being widely quoted. Greed always wins while the climate goes to hell. 3-5C + is the new estimate due to a complete lack of interest in CO2 reduction. The weather is going to hell too. A horribly wet and windy day.

Friday 30th 42-44F, dark grey with a light breeze. My computer woke up with an awful hangover. A bad update? Several restarts and a couple of scans later it started behaving normally.

It was much colder on my walk than I had imagined from reading the air temperature. The problem was that the air was moving far faster than anticipated. The gulls were confused too. Lots of them going in opposite directions. While I was too busy to be going anywhere on my trike.

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24th November 2018: A thatched Trykit? Surely not?

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Saturday 24th 35-36F, dark grey with light winds. Another grey walk down to the village and back in a thin wind. I had forgotten my GripGrab "Camel Toe" gloves, this morning. So overcame any risk of frostbite by plunging my hands deep into my pockets. Thereby adding a further variation to my silly walks repertoire, according to The Head Gardener.

I keep having nightmares about the authenticity of my Ecco walking boots. I bought them at a discount online and they have been nothing but trouble from day one. The right boot has now developed a squeaky fart with every step. I may have to alter my routes to avoid embarrassment. You know how The Village People talk!

Talking of embarrassment: The Trykit has gone ginger and developed chest hair. Or pubic hair? Depends on your point of view: Thought for the day: Avoid larches. They drop vast quantities of self-adhering needles at this time of year! We are surrounded in the damned things!

I was allowed out in fine drizzle under a dismal sky for a shopping ride to a village in the Far North. Seemed to be going as well as usual. Saw two different, large birds of prey, close to the road. Still trying to keep my cadence as high as possible. Only 13 miles. Unlucky for some?

Well some people nearly died in their desperation to get past with a huge truck coming the other way. Lift off for a fraction of a second? Nah. That would mean driving at the speed limit and that would never do. The neighbours would talk and they would be ostracized. It would be tantamount to being seen outside the hyggelige home at exactly 6pm. When every self-respecting Dane is tucking into minced pig burgers and sose. The latter a Danish variation on English gravy but made from flour and colouring according to my sauces.

Sunday 25th 36F, dark grey with light winds. I walked around the 3 mile rural block. Hunters were making an awful racket in the far woods. Each salvo wrapped in a halo of reverberating echoes. Somebody seemed to have taken a long a cannon just for the fun of it. 

I keep wanting to put my bike computer on a telescoping, forward projecting pole. I can't read my cadence while I'm standing on the pedals on a climb. My high, seated, pedal revs drop rapidly. 95>~80rpm. Requiring at least two upward changes of gears to gain enough resistance. Without pedal resistance my arms tire too quickly supporting my entire body weight only on the brake hoods. I'm presently a martyr to Tennis Elbow despite never knowingly having played. Was I there?

Changing up and down between different pairs of gears is a nuisance. When I sit back down I am over-geared. Stand up again and I am foolishly under-geared. Even having 22 gears is not enough with present, mechanical Campag Chorus levers.  The electric changing stuff is still far too expensive for my tastes and pocket. It must be those rare earth magnets. "Rare" as in coming from the largest quarries on earth. Expensive? As in the pennies for a fridge magnet, cheap?

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23rd November 2018 Where do I queue for my missing decade?

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Friday 23rd 32F, dark grey and misty with light winds and possible wintry showers. Should I go back to bed? A brisk, grey, misty, 40 minute walk without noticeable excitement.

The beck which winds along the road and through the countryside is inexplicably dry for the first time in living memory. There used to be several inches of moving water a yard wide moving through here. Which used to feed the marsh lake. Have the farmers nicked the water for irrigation? Very odd indeed!

I used to watch the mesmerizing tumble of water out of a concrete pipe before it turned sharp right. The ducks liked to forage invisibly along the weed concealed stream. They would suddenly burst from cover in a panic and shoot off like a cruise missile. It used to terrify me! So one can only imagine how the ducks felt about having their breakfast so rudely interrupted.

Today's news is that the UK is spiraling competitively downward to deplorable US standards on the effects of inequality of income level on health and lifespans. Relatively poor, UK men are now a full ten years short of  a survival set compared with the comfortably awff. Lower income UK women are dragging behind but significantly more likely to die younger than those who can literally afford to shop 'till they drop. 

The UK has a free-on-demand health service except for ears, eyes and teeth. Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil? But can they find a decent family doctor?

The poor have bad health and diet habits and make poor life choices compared with the more wealthy. Obesity, physical inactivity, smoking, drugs and booze abuse are rife. The result is a chronic disease load which kills the self-abuser all too early. No doubt many lower paid jobs are still quite literally toxic inn one way or another.

It's not all, entirely their own fault, of course. Employment insecurity, poor housing, traffic pollution, violence, crime, noise, stress and ingrained class habits are all serious factors in life shortening damage.

The wealthy live in the secure suburbs. Where traffic noise and pollution are usually much better filtered. They enjoy a level of overall greenery which is denied to those who must live in drab, concrete surroundings. Never let an architect design anything they wouldn't cheerfully live in themselves.

Worrying about which second new Audi to choose form, this year, is obviously rather less stressful than wondering if you can actually feed your kids this week. Food poverty is rife and badly skewed by the utter crap being heavily advertised on their vital flat screen TVs. Meanwhile the BBC elite has been deliberately dumbing down the working and non-working classes, for nearly a century and it has been outstandingly successful.

Sugar is a well known killer but standard fare in most products designed specifically for "the lower orders." Sugar means dentists or toothache. Sugar means obesity. Sugar means bad behaviour at all ages. Sugar means ups and down in energy and accidents. Sugar means chronic tiredness most of the time. If the rest of their sugar bomb diet is mostly chemically engineered fat then god help the poor! Nobody else will. Because it is so damned profitable even if the customer base is considered disposable! There are always more where they came from.

For reasons of pride the poor usually make very poor choices over clothing. They frequently choose not to visit charity shops. So pay well over the odds for slave-made "fashion " clothing with short useful lifespans and piss-poor protection from the horrid UK weather. 

Class pride is the real killer. But not for the relatively well off. Who happily pick up quality or even designer label clothing at giveaway charity shop prices. There are even charity shops which cater to the middle classes with aspiring tastes in evening frocks and quality tailored clothing. No ski masks needed here.

The same school "classmates" wear cheap Taiwanese rags. Or, a choice of labelled duvet jackets at a £1,000 a pop per day. It's no wonder they call them "classes." Though where "classmates" comes from is anybody's guess in this strained context.

The poor always look down on school swats as strangely inferior. The difference in eventual income is as tragicomic as the inverted snobbery. Luckily the universities filter out most of "the dross" on income grounds alone. So the muddle classes maintain their monopoly on longevity.

Only the poor pay a fortune for this week's cynically altared [sic] football worship uniform. So that some billionaire, foreign businessmen [and soccer team owner] can become even more filthily richer. If that is even possible?

How much does your tribal battling, season ticket cost now? Better have a payday loan for that! Just so you can mingle briefly with the speeding Ferraris, Bentleys and Lamborghinis. Of your obscenely overpaid, hideously disloyal, drug and £200 cocktail riddled, porcelain-fragile idols? Suit yourselves. You will anyway. At your own cost in longevity. You can't put a wise head on poor shoulders.

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