First - a great big THANK YOU to the family Nicholls for being the first (and very generous) donors on my Just Giving page (and also the only ones so far - don't be shy gentle reader!), and also to Nikki for your helpful exercise tip - great idea, but I think I would struggle to keep up regular commitment at the moment.
Cycled into work again this morning - another beautiful day. Yes, that's right - the words 'cycle', 'work' and even 'again' in the same sentence.
I am now a confirmed cyclist, having cycled into work on 6 successive occasions in the last 3 weeks, so I think I'm going to stop counting now and accept it as a fact of my new blogging/trekking life.
Mind you, it was a bit of a sticky start. On the first day I was freewheeling happpily down the Gloucester Road in the glorious sunshine, mentally composing the blog entry for the day, when I passed not one but two collisions between cyclists and white vans (no word of a lie) within a hundred yards. Both involving ambulances, sadly. In the first one everyone was standing, but the other involved a stretcher, although the cyclist was conscious at least.
Philip (the boss, and fellow keen cyclist after his mega charity ride last year) said to think of it as 'a warning' rather than 'a sign' - he was right.
So, on a daily basis I now jet the 2.82 miles into work, and puff the 2.82 miles home (uphill is a full lung experience for me) - and actually really enjoy it. I have joined the legions of smug cyclists.
After that first morning I have investigated a few diversions into smaller streets, but essentially, for those who don't know Bristol, my route is a major arterial highway (the A38) into town. For parts of it (we are the nation's first cycling city after all) there are cycle lanes with the picture of a bike so that you know. You do however share the lane with several tones of bus - now there's an incentive to keep those little legs working.
But what really gets me, is that, just when the road narrows dangerously and you need a bit of support, the cycle lane just disappears, without so much as a by your leave. No warning. Just stops. At least they could put a 'You're on your own now kid' a few yards in advance, just so that you're prepared. Then perhaps a jaunty little skull and crossbones, for those who can't read at speed. But nothing. Come on Cycling City -get your act together!
However, I am pleased to be on two wheels - and it is even quicker than the car/walking combo that I used to do - even going home.
Hooray for the fitness campaign!
Back soon
Thursday 28 April 2011
Friday 15 April 2011
So much to do ... so little time
Really busy at work, and then going off to Wales to visit my friends with the happy sheep, so I thought I'd leave you with a few wise words from the Dalai Lama to chew over, a sort of guest blog, if you will, and will be back with the usual trivia on Monday.
Over to you, your holiness .....
"In the past all of life was based on trees.Their flowers gave us decoration, their fruit gave us nourishment, their leaves and fibres clothed us and provided us with shelter.We took refuge in their branches for protection from wild animals. We used wood for heat and for canes to bear our weight when we grew old, and to make weapons to defend ourselves. We were very close to trees. Today, surrounded by sophisticated machinery and high-performance computers in our ultra-modern offices, it is easy to forget our ties with nature.It is normal to try and improve the quality of our lives through science and technology. But at the same time it is important to know the limitations of such progress and to remain aware of the fact that we still depend on nature. if the environment were to be radically altered, there would be nothing we could do to protect ourselves."
From 'Beyond Dogma - dialogues and discourses' (1996)
Over to you, your holiness .....
"In the past all of life was based on trees.Their flowers gave us decoration, their fruit gave us nourishment, their leaves and fibres clothed us and provided us with shelter.We took refuge in their branches for protection from wild animals. We used wood for heat and for canes to bear our weight when we grew old, and to make weapons to defend ourselves. We were very close to trees. Today, surrounded by sophisticated machinery and high-performance computers in our ultra-modern offices, it is easy to forget our ties with nature.It is normal to try and improve the quality of our lives through science and technology. But at the same time it is important to know the limitations of such progress and to remain aware of the fact that we still depend on nature. if the environment were to be radically altered, there would be nothing we could do to protect ourselves."
From 'Beyond Dogma - dialogues and discourses' (1996)
Friday 8 April 2011
The Training: Must have a plan
That's what they say. Must have a proper training plan so that I can be fully fit when I hit the desert. Seems like a good idea - I do want to enjoy the experience after all, but then I work with a whole bunch of hard-core fitness freaks, and my idea of a proper training plan seems to be different from theirs.
For example: I don't believe in getting up a sweat for its own sake. I like a bit of walking, and don't shy away from a flight of stairs. I enjoy cycling (although you may notice I haven't done so much since arriving in Bristol, but have you seen the hills?), love ice-skating (done even less of that, but probably not so useful for desert training), and also gardening (upper body fitness, I beleive). Fit the exercise into everyday life, so that it doesn't become a chore has always been my motto.
But no. Not enough apparently. You have to have a timetable - a commitment to get out there and do stuff several times a week. Come rain or shine. In sickness and in health. Whether you feel like it or not.
So, let's dust the bike off, and cycle to work. That's 2.82 miles. Each way. Uphill all the way home. Not every day, of course - sometimes I have to carry soup, or have commitmants after work, but let's say twice a week. I can do that.
Meant to start today, but I forgot, so that means can't do it now till Wednesday. So, watch this space.
I thought I'd try a few long walks too. First off thought I'd join the Ramblers and go out with them, but they start so ridiculously early - who can get to the centre of town for 8.30 on a Sunday morning for goodness sake? So met up with some frineds the other weekend and walked 8 miles in the beautiful Woolley Valley just outside of Bath. We met at 1.00, had time for a pleasant lunch, walked, and still got home well before dark, so I don't know why the Rambers have to be so keen. I wore far too many layers for the walk - so it felt a bit like desert practice even though the wind was a bit chilly at times.
I've decided that if I don't walk in a week, I have to go swimming as a punishment. Have been 3 times so far: and did 20 lengths, then 25, then 40 widths (went to the over 50s session - apparently we're not to be trusted down the deep end. It is only £2.30 though, so I might go back.)
And then the garden calls.
So that's my plan. A walk (or a swim) once a week, cycling twice a week, and as much gardening as I can manage. Seems good to me - but I suspect it won't pass muster with the fitness police. Fingers crossed.
For example: I don't believe in getting up a sweat for its own sake. I like a bit of walking, and don't shy away from a flight of stairs. I enjoy cycling (although you may notice I haven't done so much since arriving in Bristol, but have you seen the hills?), love ice-skating (done even less of that, but probably not so useful for desert training), and also gardening (upper body fitness, I beleive). Fit the exercise into everyday life, so that it doesn't become a chore has always been my motto.
But no. Not enough apparently. You have to have a timetable - a commitment to get out there and do stuff several times a week. Come rain or shine. In sickness and in health. Whether you feel like it or not.
So, let's dust the bike off, and cycle to work. That's 2.82 miles. Each way. Uphill all the way home. Not every day, of course - sometimes I have to carry soup, or have commitmants after work, but let's say twice a week. I can do that.
Meant to start today, but I forgot, so that means can't do it now till Wednesday. So, watch this space.
I thought I'd try a few long walks too. First off thought I'd join the Ramblers and go out with them, but they start so ridiculously early - who can get to the centre of town for 8.30 on a Sunday morning for goodness sake? So met up with some frineds the other weekend and walked 8 miles in the beautiful Woolley Valley just outside of Bath. We met at 1.00, had time for a pleasant lunch, walked, and still got home well before dark, so I don't know why the Rambers have to be so keen. I wore far too many layers for the walk - so it felt a bit like desert practice even though the wind was a bit chilly at times.
I've decided that if I don't walk in a week, I have to go swimming as a punishment. Have been 3 times so far: and did 20 lengths, then 25, then 40 widths (went to the over 50s session - apparently we're not to be trusted down the deep end. It is only £2.30 though, so I might go back.)
And then the garden calls.
So that's my plan. A walk (or a swim) once a week, cycling twice a week, and as much gardening as I can manage. Seems good to me - but I suspect it won't pass muster with the fitness police. Fingers crossed.
Friday 1 April 2011
The Fundraising: Crisis in the kitchen
A bit late, I know, but it's taken me a while to get a handle on the technicalities of the blogosphere.
Had a bit of a problem with the soup thing this week. The first 2 were fine - butternut squash, parsnip and ginger (Rachel Demuth recipe), and roast tomato and garlic (Ursula Ferrugina), and all very well received, raising about £40 in total.
This week was to be Venetian pea soup - a take on a recipe from a book (I won't say whose - seems unfair to brand them with my disaster).
So, heated up the onion, stock, peas and the rice (seemed like a lot, but according to my reading of the recipe, not actually enough), mashed it all up with the blending stick (didn't say that in the recipe either, but I can't cope with soup that has lumps), and went upstairs to do battle with a bit of internet shopping (another story, but all in all it wasn't a good night).
A mere 1 hour later, and am faced with 5 litres of a greenish brown glutinous substance that bears more resemblance to the stuff Gerry Builder uses to fill the gaps between the window and the wall than soup.
What to do? Have used up all my onions and rice, so can't start again. Fall on the floor weeping seems an attractive option, but I have a responsibility to my customers. Still have a sackful of peas in the fridge, so spoon out a small amount of the greenish (tasteless) goo, add water and peas, and try again. A few branches of mint (not too much - don't want it to taste of toothpaste) and we have something which seems edible and the right colour.
We also have 3 2-litre ice cream tubs of glutinous goo in the freezer (I am congenitally incapable of throwing food - any food - away) waiting for inspiration - I was thinking it could be a basis for Cornish pasty innards (sorry Cornwall), and colleagues have suggested the goo itself could be made into a gluten free quiche base. Every cloud ...
Anyway - soup very well received the next day (I didn't give the full details until late afternoon), and raised £28.
I had originally chosen soup as a fundraiser rather than cakes because you can't go wrong with soup. Trust me dear reader, you so can.
Had a bit of a problem with the soup thing this week. The first 2 were fine - butternut squash, parsnip and ginger (Rachel Demuth recipe), and roast tomato and garlic (Ursula Ferrugina), and all very well received, raising about £40 in total.
This week was to be Venetian pea soup - a take on a recipe from a book (I won't say whose - seems unfair to brand them with my disaster).
So, heated up the onion, stock, peas and the rice (seemed like a lot, but according to my reading of the recipe, not actually enough), mashed it all up with the blending stick (didn't say that in the recipe either, but I can't cope with soup that has lumps), and went upstairs to do battle with a bit of internet shopping (another story, but all in all it wasn't a good night).
A mere 1 hour later, and am faced with 5 litres of a greenish brown glutinous substance that bears more resemblance to the stuff Gerry Builder uses to fill the gaps between the window and the wall than soup.
What to do? Have used up all my onions and rice, so can't start again. Fall on the floor weeping seems an attractive option, but I have a responsibility to my customers. Still have a sackful of peas in the fridge, so spoon out a small amount of the greenish (tasteless) goo, add water and peas, and try again. A few branches of mint (not too much - don't want it to taste of toothpaste) and we have something which seems edible and the right colour.
We also have 3 2-litre ice cream tubs of glutinous goo in the freezer (I am congenitally incapable of throwing food - any food - away) waiting for inspiration - I was thinking it could be a basis for Cornish pasty innards (sorry Cornwall), and colleagues have suggested the goo itself could be made into a gluten free quiche base. Every cloud ...
Anyway - soup very well received the next day (I didn't give the full details until late afternoon), and raised £28.
I had originally chosen soup as a fundraiser rather than cakes because you can't go wrong with soup. Trust me dear reader, you so can.
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