"Hey, it's you, not seen you for ages, you've not been round, or written."
"Yeah, I know. I've just been busy with doing bits to the house, working, a bit of racing, life stuff, y'know."
"Well that's all well and good but no one reads your old blogs anymore so you must come back and make new ones."
"I know, it's just I'm struggling with a few things lately, I don't need to be having a conversation with a Google owned service and it telling me it needs me or some shit."
"I'm not needy, if you want to leave blogs somewhere else be my guest, I didn't ask you to make an account did I."
No, no one did.
Tuesday, 20 November 2018
Friday, 31 August 2018
2nd Quarter, and things were on the up
...Except the weather that is, that still sucks.
Hello everyone, all one of you. Welcome to my blog, nowt interesting has happened recently I'll admit except me feeling a little under the weather and not quite myself, but hopefully, with a change of seasons and a bit of fucking around with the clock, I'll be feeling a bit better pretty soon.
Work is pretty much how it was last time you read, except with an increase in the arse kisser population, the reason for that is that we've joined with the machine shop from the HQ building and been plonked in together in another building altogether.
The Summer house, now has its soffit vents, and a couple of comfy chairs, and that's it. The glass I put in the door though does not leak and it's now insect free thanks to the fine mesh I used on the vents.
RC racing, not done any still, however, emerging from my pessimistic mental cave, I have noticed that starting on the 6th of May, there is a race every week for at least 3 weeks, all in different places, starting next week at Torch for round 1 of their summer series. Shall I charge up the shorties and get the Sworkz S12-m back on duty? Is that even a question? Then it's round 2 of the SRS at the mighty Slough, THE home of rallycross in the UK so I was told once. I missed round 1 due to aforementioned cave dwelling but I did fire up the ol' girl the other week. Looks like I'll have to give it some kind of wrenching for dirt though as it's currently wearing an "astro" kind of stance.
The bike, The Thunderace, the one that got dragged under a car for about 20ft, while the driver carried on merrily in to The Range carpark with me on his windscreen. Wow, as of this precise moment, it's sat in the workshop with a gallon and half of super in the tank, waiting for me to book the MOT.
I have to give shout outs to the following though as they've done a sterling job. Graham at The Image Works www.bike-stickers.com did all the new graphics, including the tank lettering, the colour of which, is an absolute spot bollock on match to Yamahas silver. If you didn't know better, you would say the lettering was sprayed in at the factory.
Which takes me to another who's well deserving of a mention, and that's Lee at Roosters Voodoo Paint, who sorted my tank. He is just one guy but does a cracking job. Buy him a bottle of Rum and he'll see you right. He rides too so understands how you want the paint to look, he won't just give it a flash over and leave more orange peel than the man from Del Monte on a VitC binge in a darkened room, oh no. He's also a genuine bloke. Give him a nosey when you want shit painted and tell him I sent you.
I publish this update while sat in front of my pc with a bad back at the end of August, so the 2nd quarter was a while ago. I've simply been up to my eyeballs in doing stuff to actually blog anything. I was even meant to take the finished bike to show Lee at Roosters Voodoo Paint to show him how it all looks but life has been in the way.
I'll do a more recent update soon, and remember, that's how, for now.
Hello everyone, all one of you. Welcome to my blog, nowt interesting has happened recently I'll admit except me feeling a little under the weather and not quite myself, but hopefully, with a change of seasons and a bit of fucking around with the clock, I'll be feeling a bit better pretty soon.
Work is pretty much how it was last time you read, except with an increase in the arse kisser population, the reason for that is that we've joined with the machine shop from the HQ building and been plonked in together in another building altogether.
The Summer house, now has its soffit vents, and a couple of comfy chairs, and that's it. The glass I put in the door though does not leak and it's now insect free thanks to the fine mesh I used on the vents.
RC racing, not done any still, however, emerging from my pessimistic mental cave, I have noticed that starting on the 6th of May, there is a race every week for at least 3 weeks, all in different places, starting next week at Torch for round 1 of their summer series. Shall I charge up the shorties and get the Sworkz S12-m back on duty? Is that even a question? Then it's round 2 of the SRS at the mighty Slough, THE home of rallycross in the UK so I was told once. I missed round 1 due to aforementioned cave dwelling but I did fire up the ol' girl the other week. Looks like I'll have to give it some kind of wrenching for dirt though as it's currently wearing an "astro" kind of stance.
The bike, The Thunderace, the one that got dragged under a car for about 20ft, while the driver carried on merrily in to The Range carpark with me on his windscreen. Wow, as of this precise moment, it's sat in the workshop with a gallon and half of super in the tank, waiting for me to book the MOT.
I have to give shout outs to the following though as they've done a sterling job. Graham at The Image Works www.bike-stickers.com did all the new graphics, including the tank lettering, the colour of which, is an absolute spot bollock on match to Yamahas silver. If you didn't know better, you would say the lettering was sprayed in at the factory.
Which takes me to another who's well deserving of a mention, and that's Lee at Roosters Voodoo Paint, who sorted my tank. He is just one guy but does a cracking job. Buy him a bottle of Rum and he'll see you right. He rides too so understands how you want the paint to look, he won't just give it a flash over and leave more orange peel than the man from Del Monte on a VitC binge in a darkened room, oh no. He's also a genuine bloke. Give him a nosey when you want shit painted and tell him I sent you.
I publish this update while sat in front of my pc with a bad back at the end of August, so the 2nd quarter was a while ago. I've simply been up to my eyeballs in doing stuff to actually blog anything. I was even meant to take the finished bike to show Lee at Roosters Voodoo Paint to show him how it all looks but life has been in the way.
I'll do a more recent update soon, and remember, that's how, for now.
Saturday, 3 March 2018
Welcome to 2018
Greetings and salutations, welcome to 2018, which for me so far, has been a 2017 rollover. Surrounded by muppets, charlatans and wankers and it's only just turned March. I've not raced since November as that particular meeting (the indoor one) had a number of people in attendance, a few of which simply cheese me off by their mere presence.
Anyway, I've been working on my house and my woo-sah in the interim, Oh yeah, and my bike, Which doesn't look it's got anywhere but I have done stuff to it, much like the hallway if I'm honest.
The wifes Fibromyalgia continues to be a thorn in the side, mostly her side, obviously, but as consequence, it results in the fun being sucked out of life on a continual yearly basis.
Then there's the eldest stepsons father. What can I say about this bloke that hasn't already been said? He's a teacher, he's married to a teacher, and they have a spoilt child together. She doesn't like the stepson, and has been campaigning to get him out of the house (the kid's 15 and autistic) over the course of the last year or so. He's gone along with it too, with me nearly putting my fist into his ample body and face in the front yard last summer. Finally, he's managed to turn his nipper against him enough so that his son doesn't actually want to live there. So he's won on that front. What makes it difficult, is that looking after an autistic teenager who has personality traits similar to his father is a difficult job and fucking annoying.
I mean, why must you have to remind them that they have to have a shower and clean their teeth everyday? This is halfway through the day after I've showered, dressed, gone out, and come back, and seen the bathroom exactly how I left it 2 hours earlier, but they're clothed.
Next it's pricks at work, but because I make certain things at Portsmouths worst kept secret I can't tell you a great deal. Suffice to say, they're similar to most other mid size private companies, where they hire blokes in shirts and letters after their name and a nice piece of paper from a higher place of learning, who know and display considerably less knowledge than the blokes on the shopfloor who have nothing but decades of hardcore experience from the various places they've worked at. It pisses me off.
Add to that, arse kissing bastards. I hate them.
Which is probably why, after all my years, I'm still a normal time served/manual turner/cnc miller/programmer/precision engineer wearing jeans to work. I don't kiss arse, someone gets my true opinion via my gob. So, despite my years and skill, some wanker with a brown nose, silver tongue and a mouth full of bullshit will always trump me in the job stakes.
My "summer house" is almost finished. I say almost, I have to do the soffit vents, insulate it, the glass I picked up today has to go in the door, as well as fitting the beading. The actual floor is down but not the floor covering, Ie: carpet/laminate/lino etc. Then of course there's electric to power the lights and whatever else. That will be channeled in as and when. I'm doing the patio at the moment then there's a nice lamp post to choose, then the groundwork, then I'll need a sparky.
I reckon I'll have to an extra fusebox fitted for the outside stuff. It's probably safer that way.
I'm chuffed though, I built it all myself from timber and it's the first time I've done something like that and it's lasted all winter and been leak free. Big thanks to Biggsey though, who procured me the fasteners with which to screw the thing together and would've given me an actual hand had he not been going through a shitty time himself.
I was meant to be racing tomorrow for the Clanfield leg of the "Race against cancer" Steve and Bernie Memorial race but both legs have been cancelled due to the weather being a bit pony.
Bernie and Steve were well liked people in the RC racing community who both succumbed to the disease in one form or another late last year. Bernie was a regular at South Coast RC and before that, Torch. I have mentioned him a number of times in my previous blogs concerning racing. Steve was Kevin Brunsdens Dad and all round nice bloke. I spoke with him a few times and he always had enthusiasm for the hobby/sport but I didn't know him as well as Bernie as he was based around the Reading area so not as local but he was well liked by the guys from up that way, and most of them are sound so he gets my thumbs up.
Alas It's time to say goodnight, but remember, those with cushty jobs aren't always cushty people, sometimes they're utter Wankers.
Anyway, I've been working on my house and my woo-sah in the interim, Oh yeah, and my bike, Which doesn't look it's got anywhere but I have done stuff to it, much like the hallway if I'm honest.
The wifes Fibromyalgia continues to be a thorn in the side, mostly her side, obviously, but as consequence, it results in the fun being sucked out of life on a continual yearly basis.
Then there's the eldest stepsons father. What can I say about this bloke that hasn't already been said? He's a teacher, he's married to a teacher, and they have a spoilt child together. She doesn't like the stepson, and has been campaigning to get him out of the house (the kid's 15 and autistic) over the course of the last year or so. He's gone along with it too, with me nearly putting my fist into his ample body and face in the front yard last summer. Finally, he's managed to turn his nipper against him enough so that his son doesn't actually want to live there. So he's won on that front. What makes it difficult, is that looking after an autistic teenager who has personality traits similar to his father is a difficult job and fucking annoying.
I mean, why must you have to remind them that they have to have a shower and clean their teeth everyday? This is halfway through the day after I've showered, dressed, gone out, and come back, and seen the bathroom exactly how I left it 2 hours earlier, but they're clothed.
Next it's pricks at work, but because I make certain things at Portsmouths worst kept secret I can't tell you a great deal. Suffice to say, they're similar to most other mid size private companies, where they hire blokes in shirts and letters after their name and a nice piece of paper from a higher place of learning, who know and display considerably less knowledge than the blokes on the shopfloor who have nothing but decades of hardcore experience from the various places they've worked at. It pisses me off.
Add to that, arse kissing bastards. I hate them.
Which is probably why, after all my years, I'm still a normal time served/manual turner/cnc miller/programmer/precision engineer wearing jeans to work. I don't kiss arse, someone gets my true opinion via my gob. So, despite my years and skill, some wanker with a brown nose, silver tongue and a mouth full of bullshit will always trump me in the job stakes.
My "summer house" is almost finished. I say almost, I have to do the soffit vents, insulate it, the glass I picked up today has to go in the door, as well as fitting the beading. The actual floor is down but not the floor covering, Ie: carpet/laminate/lino etc. Then of course there's electric to power the lights and whatever else. That will be channeled in as and when. I'm doing the patio at the moment then there's a nice lamp post to choose, then the groundwork, then I'll need a sparky.
I reckon I'll have to an extra fusebox fitted for the outside stuff. It's probably safer that way.
I'm chuffed though, I built it all myself from timber and it's the first time I've done something like that and it's lasted all winter and been leak free. Big thanks to Biggsey though, who procured me the fasteners with which to screw the thing together and would've given me an actual hand had he not been going through a shitty time himself.
I was meant to be racing tomorrow for the Clanfield leg of the "Race against cancer" Steve and Bernie Memorial race but both legs have been cancelled due to the weather being a bit pony.
Bernie and Steve were well liked people in the RC racing community who both succumbed to the disease in one form or another late last year. Bernie was a regular at South Coast RC and before that, Torch. I have mentioned him a number of times in my previous blogs concerning racing. Steve was Kevin Brunsdens Dad and all round nice bloke. I spoke with him a few times and he always had enthusiasm for the hobby/sport but I didn't know him as well as Bernie as he was based around the Reading area so not as local but he was well liked by the guys from up that way, and most of them are sound so he gets my thumbs up.
Alas It's time to say goodnight, but remember, those with cushty jobs aren't always cushty people, sometimes they're utter Wankers.
Saturday, 9 December 2017
I'm afraid of Americans..
...sang a great English poet once, and while largely perceived by many to be not quite the full shilling, he was on to something. Now, normally my blog is usually infested with race reports or bitching about neighbours and other twats but today I'll make an exception.
Firstly though, I have been to America, and it has some nice people, as do other countries, but like other countries, it also has it's fair share of utter wankers. Do they have more as they are a large country or does it simply seem that way due to social media? No matter, lets delve in and found out why one should in fact, be afraid of Americans (but not all, only the silly ones)
Flat Earthers. These people site Nasa as major conspirators, saying because only they go up into space, they can tell us the earth is round and everyone has to believe them. Right, so before Nasa then, Airline pilots, they have flown around the world. Surely they would have seen the edge, or are they sworn to secrecy too? Before airline pilots? Ohh, Columbus, yeah, that bloke who sailed "too far" and discovered for himself the Americas, thanks for that mate. I doubt he fell off the edge. Sailors, who frequently circumnavigate their way round the planet. They're in on it too I suppose. Not to mention that if you were in a large open space, a desert for example, you can see the curvature of the earth, only slightly mind. I read some twats utterings recently, he said that in the old days you could see a ship disappear over the horizon, but with todays cameras, that is no longer the case, proving that the earth is flat. Lastly for now, that nob who has build his own rocket, with intentions of using it to fly up and prove the earth isn't round.
Hmmm, I suspect clean up specialists will be digging his remains out of a mountain side for some time to come once he does take off. It's true not all Americans are flat earthers, it's entirely plausible that all flat earthers are American.
Next up, social media. It's always good for a laugh, especially the ones with complete fucktards saying stupid things. The trouble is, they're all American. Here are a few gems:
"Does it take 18 months for twins to be born, or 9?"
"Been stuck on the escalator for hours, the power went out"
"How does it rain in Australia? as they are at the bottom of the planet surely the rain just falls off "
"How did people no what roads to take before google maps was invented?"
"they used maps."
"No, I said before google maps"
Hmmm, what do you make of that lot? All freely available via the internet.
Donald Trump, what can say about ol Trumpy that hasn't already been said with such colour? Fuck all, that's what. He is the President of one of the largest countries in the world, yet has no clue. He clearly believes in god, has not moved with the times, ie, evolving attitudes toward the environment, civil rights, and war. He is a narrow minded throwback voted in by narrow minded throwbacks, and other people who didn't want the other person. He is American.
This is of course my opinion, and if you don't want to read it, then don't. Or perhaps you don't share my opinion, that's great, but I'm not here for a debate.
I'm off to get pizza in and watch a movie of something, maybe a New Yorker with extra pastrami, and Team America on dvd.
Stay safe kids and remember, in the land of the free can you be who you want to be.
Monday, 11 September 2017
How have I been?
Struggling, to not put too fine a point on it.
Had a great time at the Clanfield round of the SRS, pitting with Kev, Stumpy, George M and also Richard and Mike Daniel (thanks for the sausage roll by the way Richard), it helped take my mind off the passing of my Mum. Unfortunately, some utter fucking moron knocked me off my motorbike on the following Tuesday.
It was outside The Range in Portsmouth, it's always been a dodgy looking place to put a carpark entrance and I'm surprised it was greenlit by the council. Anyway, this bellend came off the roundabout and basically straightlined it across the opposite lane to get into the carpark, thus collecting me on the way as he T-boned me and forced me up his bonnet while he carried on driving with my bike under the front of his car.
Myself and the bike were finally dumped in the actual carpark, me on my right side, the bike on it's left, after being hit on the right. Anyway, The cunt's paying for it now, I'd like to see his renewal price, the bastard. He didn't even ask how I was, hell, I didn't even get the obligatory "sorry mate I didn't see you". In fact, he carried on doing his shopping. Prick.
The bike was deemed "beyond economical repair", but was bought back as salvage. she will roll again, I tell thee.
Had a BBQ, everyone was there, from Bob Seger, to Sonny and Cher. (I don't even like that song). Was a good evening, not so for Terry, who was looking out for me after such a wank time and had to leave cos he was gonna start a fight. He made himself leave, I had no idea what had happened till a while later. Thanks to Jax, Bigz and Dianne for helping to tidy up at the end of the evening. Massive help and greatly apprec'd.
Nearly started a fight myself actually too. Wifes ex was being a monumental bell end, more so than his normal bell end self. He had refused to take his nipper back for menial reasons I won't go into here, but his wife refused to speak to the kid aswell, she's a drama teacher apparently, but more like a drama queen, and he didn't wan't him back because his wife was making him choose.
So with all I was dealing with, this prick lands me with HIS problems with HIS stoopid bitch wife. I can honestly say he was about to get an hiding, and for me to do that, I was on the fucking edge. Then he started crying, on my front yard, wtf. He comes to my house, gives me his problems then starts crying. What a wanker.
That was quite a few weeks ago now, and I can't stand to comprehend his presence, or who knows what will happen. I have to leave it to his ex wife.
Just done round 4 of the SRS at South Coast RC. It rained alot. A lot of people didn't make the trip. I ended up in the B Final, which was a bit of a chufty badge. As normal driving the SWorkz Evo 2 LE. Qualifying was a mixed bag, not quite 10p mix up quality, but almost as varied. Someone spun out on the main straight about 4ft in front of me when I was flat chat, he got away nicely, but I finished the race with a bent and stuck in shock shaft, only to come back to my gazebo to find the rain had leaked on my chair. I almost went home, except the banter from Stumpy, Kev, Sam C, George M and Simon kept me hanging around. Many thanks again to Steve Spencer for pitting for me in the final, 20 mins of standing in the pissing rain just to refuel my car, hey, it's why we love the hobby right? Herts Nitro on the 17th for the last round of the SRS, I've never been. Then last round of SCRCs summer orgy bonanza the week after.
Went to Glastonbury the other week on the bike (the other bike), only a night away, but it was nice. we climbed the Tor, chilled out, and just enjoyed the time away. The scenery from the top of the Tor was great. Cheddar Gorge was visible in the distance, amazing.
Off on Wednesday to Swadlincote in the Midlands, to see my friend John, aka, James Johnson, who's now running his own internet radio station. Called Unsigned James UK, he showcases artists who are, unsigned, funnily enough. Anyway, I might be guesting on his show that evening, we will see.
And finally, I'll leave you with these gems I found lurking on the internet
That's it for now, and remember...
Keep This Frequency Clear
Had a great time at the Clanfield round of the SRS, pitting with Kev, Stumpy, George M and also Richard and Mike Daniel (thanks for the sausage roll by the way Richard), it helped take my mind off the passing of my Mum. Unfortunately, some utter fucking moron knocked me off my motorbike on the following Tuesday.
It was outside The Range in Portsmouth, it's always been a dodgy looking place to put a carpark entrance and I'm surprised it was greenlit by the council. Anyway, this bellend came off the roundabout and basically straightlined it across the opposite lane to get into the carpark, thus collecting me on the way as he T-boned me and forced me up his bonnet while he carried on driving with my bike under the front of his car.
Myself and the bike were finally dumped in the actual carpark, me on my right side, the bike on it's left, after being hit on the right. Anyway, The cunt's paying for it now, I'd like to see his renewal price, the bastard. He didn't even ask how I was, hell, I didn't even get the obligatory "sorry mate I didn't see you". In fact, he carried on doing his shopping. Prick.
The bike was deemed "beyond economical repair", but was bought back as salvage. she will roll again, I tell thee.
Had a BBQ, everyone was there, from Bob Seger, to Sonny and Cher. (I don't even like that song). Was a good evening, not so for Terry, who was looking out for me after such a wank time and had to leave cos he was gonna start a fight. He made himself leave, I had no idea what had happened till a while later. Thanks to Jax, Bigz and Dianne for helping to tidy up at the end of the evening. Massive help and greatly apprec'd.
Nearly started a fight myself actually too. Wifes ex was being a monumental bell end, more so than his normal bell end self. He had refused to take his nipper back for menial reasons I won't go into here, but his wife refused to speak to the kid aswell, she's a drama teacher apparently, but more like a drama queen, and he didn't wan't him back because his wife was making him choose.
So with all I was dealing with, this prick lands me with HIS problems with HIS stoopid bitch wife. I can honestly say he was about to get an hiding, and for me to do that, I was on the fucking edge. Then he started crying, on my front yard, wtf. He comes to my house, gives me his problems then starts crying. What a wanker.
That was quite a few weeks ago now, and I can't stand to comprehend his presence, or who knows what will happen. I have to leave it to his ex wife.
Just done round 4 of the SRS at South Coast RC. It rained alot. A lot of people didn't make the trip. I ended up in the B Final, which was a bit of a chufty badge. As normal driving the SWorkz Evo 2 LE. Qualifying was a mixed bag, not quite 10p mix up quality, but almost as varied. Someone spun out on the main straight about 4ft in front of me when I was flat chat, he got away nicely, but I finished the race with a bent and stuck in shock shaft, only to come back to my gazebo to find the rain had leaked on my chair. I almost went home, except the banter from Stumpy, Kev, Sam C, George M and Simon kept me hanging around. Many thanks again to Steve Spencer for pitting for me in the final, 20 mins of standing in the pissing rain just to refuel my car, hey, it's why we love the hobby right? Herts Nitro on the 17th for the last round of the SRS, I've never been. Then last round of SCRCs summer orgy bonanza the week after.
Went to Glastonbury the other week on the bike (the other bike), only a night away, but it was nice. we climbed the Tor, chilled out, and just enjoyed the time away. The scenery from the top of the Tor was great. Cheddar Gorge was visible in the distance, amazing.
Off on Wednesday to Swadlincote in the Midlands, to see my friend John, aka, James Johnson, who's now running his own internet radio station. Called Unsigned James UK, he showcases artists who are, unsigned, funnily enough. Anyway, I might be guesting on his show that evening, we will see.
And finally, I'll leave you with these gems I found lurking on the internet
That's it for now, and remember...
Keep This Frequency Clear
Sunday, 2 July 2017
My week in words and pictures
Hi all
Like the last blog of mine, which was mostly about the worst news a Son (or daughter even ) could ever have, this one is about a couple of subjects, only far less depressing. Unfortunately/fortunately (delete as appropriate) one of them is racing. You, at the back, pay attention now.
Older viewers (in time, not age) of my facebook may remember the picture below from a couple of years ago. It is of the view from my back garden of my neighbours conservatory. It is built on the boundary, and has two openers, windows #2 and #4, opening inward.
Obviously, I was unhappy about looking at this, and when he saw me gunning out kerbstones shoring up the shoddy patio I have, he wrote me a letter threatening me with legal action if I didn't replace them. I've not replaced them, they were on my side of the boundary, which, again, he said had moved to accommodate his conservatory.
He told me there was a written agreement with a previous neighbour in 1984 and is kept with the council. Well, I was 8 in 1984 so I didn't sign it, the people who did no longer live there, and the council don't keep stuff like that, because I asked them. It is all with land registry, who have no record of a boundary being changed. Not only did the kerbstones not get replaced, I smashed out the rest of the patio too, which was shit and was up to damp course. Who the fuck does that? Apparently, ol' Trumpy next door (conservatory twat) had a hand in it, need I say anymore?
Anyway, as of this week, this is now currently a view I have in my back garden, looking of course in the same direction.
Like the last blog of mine, which was mostly about the worst news a Son (or daughter even ) could ever have, this one is about a couple of subjects, only far less depressing. Unfortunately/fortunately (delete as appropriate) one of them is racing. You, at the back, pay attention now.
Older viewers (in time, not age) of my facebook may remember the picture below from a couple of years ago. It is of the view from my back garden of my neighbours conservatory. It is built on the boundary, and has two openers, windows #2 and #4, opening inward.
Obviously, I was unhappy about looking at this, and when he saw me gunning out kerbstones shoring up the shoddy patio I have, he wrote me a letter threatening me with legal action if I didn't replace them. I've not replaced them, they were on my side of the boundary, which, again, he said had moved to accommodate his conservatory.
He told me there was a written agreement with a previous neighbour in 1984 and is kept with the council. Well, I was 8 in 1984 so I didn't sign it, the people who did no longer live there, and the council don't keep stuff like that, because I asked them. It is all with land registry, who have no record of a boundary being changed. Not only did the kerbstones not get replaced, I smashed out the rest of the patio too, which was shit and was up to damp course. Who the fuck does that? Apparently, ol' Trumpy next door (conservatory twat) had a hand in it, need I say anymore?
Anyway, as of this week, this is now currently a view I have in my back garden, looking of course in the same direction.
So no more wanky conservatory to look at, and, He can no longer climb out of his window on to my property. I'm expecting a letter, although, I wonder if he has realized he's been a nob and won't bother......watch this space.
Moving swiftly along, like some scumbag builder coming by your house in the dead of night and dumping their shit in the skip you've paid good money for, we're on to racing.
Ah, RC racing, the staple hobby of nerds, engineers, shop owners and former child primadonnas everywhere. A hobby I love dearly.
Clanfield RC, Almost, quite literally, up my street, albeit 8 miles away, played host today (2nd July '17) to round 3 of the SRS (we've been through this, it's Southern Regional Series ffs). Upon arrival it becomes apparent that Tony Bolwell and helpers have got the ol' place looking alright. No hammers or anything.
I'm pitting with KB and the Sunshine band, aka, Model Cars Reading supremo Kev Brunsden, Stumpy, Mr Miller (he's neither a vicar or a serial killer),Mike and Richard Daniel, the latter of which had offerings of sausage rolls, for which I found it hard to contain my enthusiasm. Had it not been for the bacon and egg baguette I'd just polished off, I woulda eaten ALL the sausage rolls, then carried on munching everything, like the Langoliers.
I made 6th in the C Final, unfortunately, I finished 7th, but at least I finished, which is a stark difference to the same meeting last year. In this one, I was at the sharp end, but after my 2nd fuel stop and a couple of joey errors and slow marshalling, my brain seemed to turn to some non conductive splodge, like the crap you get in a front sprocket cover of a motorbike, made of old chain lube and road shit, which simply couldn't control my hands enough to keep my position.
Stumpy made 6th in the B Final, and finished 7th also, after driving the last 3rd of his final "like a complete Spaz". His words, not mine.
Mike bumped into the A and Kev spent the entire A final locked in battle with Mr NemoRacing himself, Jon Hazelwood, but had to settle for the first runner up spot after Jon beat him over the line by sweet FA.
If, like me, you enjoy reading someone elses twaddle, then tune in next time when I have reports on the local daisy growing championships, and latex clad Dominatrices threatening me with riding crops.
Same bat time, same bat channel.
Ciao
Thursday, 8 June 2017
Mainly not about racing
Sunday, June 4th 2017. 08;15. M27, westbound. There he is, look, Grant Fribbens, ol' comedy barnet himself. He was no doubt on his way to Torch for some 1/10th off road action, I'm beeping to attract his attention, but like an elderly person who has just wronged you and knows it, he refuses to make eye contact and stares ahead.
Me? Well, myself and Lei are off to South Coast RC for round 3 of their Summer Off Road Orgy. Lei did barbeque too which was nice. It went like this: I drove around, got pole in the B. Got away and pulled a 2 lap lead, only for my clutch bearings to shit themselves 30 seconds from the end and took not only the clutch bell but also the spur gear with it. I got 2nd and no bump up, that's racing. The Sworkz 350 Truggy was lovely to drive though.
None of that really matters though right now, for in the evening, I went round to my parents house to see my dad and maybe my mum. On May 15th, only a few weeks ago , my mum had been diagnosed with terminal cancer. In the intervening days/weeks, she had gone downhill a bit and was by now on oromorph or whatever the fuck it's called, frankly, I don't care. I'm sat around the table chatting with my dad, and he says he's just going to check on mum. Seconds later, he stumbles back down the stairs, picks up the phone and tells my sister: "she's gone". My mum had died. On Sunday, June 4th 2017, 8pm. This moment will be etched into my brain for the rest of my life. I couldn't believe it, and still don't. It's like it's happening to someone else and I'm watching it, like an fpv dream. I'm on autopilot, I'm subdued (for now), I'm mentally tired and even now (June 8th), I'm still trying to come to terms with has happened.
In 2010, my mum was 70, and for her birthday. My friend John drove all the way down from Swadlincote in the Midlands to do the disco. We set the gazebo up, got the rig going, food on the bar and drinks in the glasses. Everyone came round and we had a right ol' knees up. We even had a police car and 2 police vans turn up in an attempt to "break up a rowdy party". I answered the door and couldn't believe my eyes with 3 coppers stood there, I swear they didn't believe me until my mum came into the hall clutching a helium balloon with 70 emblazoned upon it, wishing to know who was at the door. They wished her a happy birthday and promptly left.
Or the time I gave her a lift to work on my RXS100 shortly after I had passed my bike test back in '95. She was grateful, but certain she wouldn't do it again. I suppose going down the A3 might have been a step too soon.
This was my mum, whom, as a child I would watch in amazement as she carried multiple bags of shopping and walk with them all the way from the ville to home, no taxis, no bus, no fuss. Or the time she had my childhood nemesis up against the wall by his neck, branding him a "little shit" for his continued bullying of me, he didn't do it again.
Her legendary hospitality. When I lived at home, my friends were always made welcome, sometimes too welcome in fact. On several occasions this one friend would turn up at 9am on christmas morning, and would be happily offered a bacon sarnie. Friends would stay over and there would be snacks and extra food laid on for us to feed upon. One new year, we were all up the pub, and afterward it was back to my parents, where my friends were all offered floor space and blankets, with some breakfast in the morning.
At christmas she would make mince pies, and they were a favourite of everyone, from me to the people in the local one stop.
An incredibly houseproud woman, I was inspired, and still am, by her domestic prowess. We didn't have a lot when I was younger and I was always made fun of for not having what the other kids had, but she taught me to be grateful for what I did have and always try to look after it, and for that, I am eternally grateful.
She was my mum, the bestest mum a son a could ever have and I'll miss her forever.
Me? Well, myself and Lei are off to South Coast RC for round 3 of their Summer Off Road Orgy. Lei did barbeque too which was nice. It went like this: I drove around, got pole in the B. Got away and pulled a 2 lap lead, only for my clutch bearings to shit themselves 30 seconds from the end and took not only the clutch bell but also the spur gear with it. I got 2nd and no bump up, that's racing. The Sworkz 350 Truggy was lovely to drive though.
None of that really matters though right now, for in the evening, I went round to my parents house to see my dad and maybe my mum. On May 15th, only a few weeks ago , my mum had been diagnosed with terminal cancer. In the intervening days/weeks, she had gone downhill a bit and was by now on oromorph or whatever the fuck it's called, frankly, I don't care. I'm sat around the table chatting with my dad, and he says he's just going to check on mum. Seconds later, he stumbles back down the stairs, picks up the phone and tells my sister: "she's gone". My mum had died. On Sunday, June 4th 2017, 8pm. This moment will be etched into my brain for the rest of my life. I couldn't believe it, and still don't. It's like it's happening to someone else and I'm watching it, like an fpv dream. I'm on autopilot, I'm subdued (for now), I'm mentally tired and even now (June 8th), I'm still trying to come to terms with has happened.
In 2010, my mum was 70, and for her birthday. My friend John drove all the way down from Swadlincote in the Midlands to do the disco. We set the gazebo up, got the rig going, food on the bar and drinks in the glasses. Everyone came round and we had a right ol' knees up. We even had a police car and 2 police vans turn up in an attempt to "break up a rowdy party". I answered the door and couldn't believe my eyes with 3 coppers stood there, I swear they didn't believe me until my mum came into the hall clutching a helium balloon with 70 emblazoned upon it, wishing to know who was at the door. They wished her a happy birthday and promptly left.
Or the time I gave her a lift to work on my RXS100 shortly after I had passed my bike test back in '95. She was grateful, but certain she wouldn't do it again. I suppose going down the A3 might have been a step too soon.
This was my mum, whom, as a child I would watch in amazement as she carried multiple bags of shopping and walk with them all the way from the ville to home, no taxis, no bus, no fuss. Or the time she had my childhood nemesis up against the wall by his neck, branding him a "little shit" for his continued bullying of me, he didn't do it again.
Her legendary hospitality. When I lived at home, my friends were always made welcome, sometimes too welcome in fact. On several occasions this one friend would turn up at 9am on christmas morning, and would be happily offered a bacon sarnie. Friends would stay over and there would be snacks and extra food laid on for us to feed upon. One new year, we were all up the pub, and afterward it was back to my parents, where my friends were all offered floor space and blankets, with some breakfast in the morning.
At christmas she would make mince pies, and they were a favourite of everyone, from me to the people in the local one stop.
An incredibly houseproud woman, I was inspired, and still am, by her domestic prowess. We didn't have a lot when I was younger and I was always made fun of for not having what the other kids had, but she taught me to be grateful for what I did have and always try to look after it, and for that, I am eternally grateful.
She was my mum, the bestest mum a son a could ever have and I'll miss her forever.
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