Thorn in my Side

September 30, 2019

In the last week or so, autumn hasn’t just arrived, it’s taken its boots off and got itself comfortable, ready to stay awhile. This morning I was treated to a display of mist, first clearing and then reassembling to wipe out the valley below, before the sun finally burned through, and the wind has an edge to it didn’t have even a couple of days ago. The swallows are assembling for the off, the leaves are gradually turning, the nights are drawing in, and farmers everywhere have woken up and thought ‘today looks like an excellent day to go hedgecutting.’

For cyclists, this means only one thing: bastard big thorns. Indeed, on Saturday, as we were preparing to meet the others for my anniversaire, Back on my Bike discovered that she had fallen victim to the hedge trimmings scattering the road outside town. As she efficiently sorted that out, I had a quick look at my own bike and discovered I too had picked up a thorn, which was thoroughly embedded in my front tyre.

This leaves me with something of a dilemma. On the one hand, a thorn in a tyre is bad news and tends to be detrimental to its airtightness. On the other hand, taking off a newish Marathon Plus just as a precaution seems to miss the point of having puncture resistant tyres as they’re a giant pain in the neck to get on and off, and I’ve now ridden at least 80 miles in the tyre-plus-thorn combo with no apparent loss of air pressure. Back on the original hand, however, simply ignoring what is likely to be an imminent puncture seems likely to come back and haunt me, probably at the furthest point from civilisation, well out of mobile signal range, and on a day when the wind is blowing the rain sideways in all directions, and I’ll have nobody to blame but myself.

So far I’ve done the obvious thing, which is to ignore it and hope it goes away while offering up obeisance to the P****** Fairy to turn aside her wrath (this may have worked too well, as it was someone else who got the second puncture during Saturday’s festivities). I suppose I could at least put my pump back in my bag and purchase a spare inner tube, for when the inevitable comes. Because now that hedgecutting season is in full swing, a flat is really only a matter of time, whatever the current thorn in my tyre decides to do.


Birthday, Observed

September 29, 2019

Fifty and fabulous

I have occasionally been likened to the Queen in the past, more for my habit of not carrying any money on me than because of any truly regal qualities – but this year I seem to have added another, that of having two birthdays. The problem is that while I actually turned 50 in March this year (and, by spending the last day of my 40s climbing Slieve Donard, ensured that I more than felt my age), I didn’t formally mark the occasion (through my Anniversaire) until this weekend so that others who are more busy than me could join in …

This has proved more complicated than can really be explained in a tweet, leading to an undeserved wave of birthday wishes, but I decided in the end it was easier just to roll with it, especially when most of the day was spent having a glorious time with friends on bikes in what might very well be the last gasp of summer, leaving me no time to reply to any tweets.

As usual, chatting, cycling, navigating and eating took precedence over taking photos, but I was reminded (as I always am when I take visitors around on bikes) just what gorgeous cycling we have in the area.*

View from th top of a climb

Possibly it was a mistake to make the second leg the hilliest and most challenging stretch – but it allowed us to inspect the ford, which is always important.

ford  inspection

We also discovered that Noticeboard Tree has been upgraded to an actual noticeboard, and very smart it looks too. The ‘Teas’ sign underneath it will require further investigation …

new noticeboard

We ended with what we hoped would be a visit to the local community-run pub but, as is now traditional, it wasn’t open. Clearly the community only run the pub as and when they feel like it. Fortunately we were rewarded with a gorgeous sunset instead, and besides there was beer at home.

sunset

I’m so glad I have hit on this way of celebrating my advancing years, and am determined to keep it up as long as I can – even if I have to switch to kilometres, buy an e-bike, or ultimately do it in stages.

Watch this space for 51 miles next year…

* This was brought home to me by the baffled looks on the Edinburgh contingents’ faces as I explained that I didn’t like cycling on one particular stretch of road because it was a bit busy. I think we’d been passed by about 5 cars in 15 minutes at that point …


Birds of a Feather

September 23, 2019

After a week of gorgeous last-gasp-of-summer weather, naturally the Weather Gods chose Sunday as the day to catch up with all that raining they’d meant to get done during September, as that was the appointed day for the Fancy Women Bike Ride. So, after a three-hour bus ride in the rain (and a lift down to the bus stop in the car, because nothing says ‘fierce, fabulous and fun’ quite so much as dry shoes) and a quick fire change into the nearest thing approaching ‘fancy’ that I was going to get, we headed to the Scottish Parliament in our dresses and on our bikes to see if anyone was going to turn up.

Amazingly, they did – and they were far more glamorous than us.

fancy women

And so the fun began.

group photo

I knew the organisers of the Fancy Women Bike Ride were onto something from the start when a black Range Rover stopped to let us all out onto the road. There’s the visibility that comes from dayglo yellow jackets and flashing lights – and then there’s the extra strength visibility that comes from being with a group of women dressed up to the nines (or perhaps the sevens in my case), flowers and all, and who are just having a good time on their bikes without worrying about what anyone else might think. A chasing pack of photographers (well, two) helps a bit too. Even when we’d left Holyrood Park and headed out en masse onto Edinburgh’s epically potholed streets, it was all a bit … well, joyful.

There are many serious points being made the Fancy Women Bike Ride – from the need to make our streets fit for everyone, to the fact that women in Tehran can’t even ride a bike in public however they’re dressed – but that doesn’t detract from the fact that it’s also a hell of a lot of fun. Especially when you head back for cake and fizz and a session spent putting the (cycling) world to rights as the rain continued to hammer down outside.

It was still a relief to be back in my normal clothes this morning – especially as my chosen dress had NO POCKETS – but in a world of doom and gloom that’s getting doomier and gloomier by the minute, it was nice to have had the chance to add to the gaiety of the nation for once (and feature in the Guardian – online at least – in my sparkly trainers) – and all in a good cause.

Better photos than mine can be found here.


Meadow Larks

September 21, 2019

It’s been a bit of a crunch week for me this week, with the Bigtown Bike Breakfast last Thursday (this was a roaring success, helped by half a primary school turning up on bikes (despite the school in question being one of the most difficult to get to by bike in Bigtown, so chapeau to the teachers) and tomorrow’s Fancy Women ride to organise (current status: finely balanced between panicking about nobody turning up and panicking that too many people will turn up and it will be chaos). There’s also the small matter of my Anniversaire which is next Saturday and didn’t even have a route planned until late last night. But it’s also September, and a gorgeously fine one to boot, and gardens wait for nobody, however busy they might be.

As always with my garden I have a lot of half-baked projects on the go and the current one is establishing a bit of a wildflower meadow in the bottom corner which will hopefully function as more hare habitat as well as joining up with the bit of the field that has been left uncut. There’s an easy – or at least quick – way to establish a meadow, which is to remove everything that’s already growing there (“herbicides may be needed to remove perennial weeds”, as the guides say, which seems a bit counterproductive for a wildlife-friendly garden) and then replant with a mix of seed, but anyone who’s been following my gardening adventures for a while will probably guess that’s not the way I’m going about it. As far as I can tell from what I’ve read, the other way to establish a wildflower meadow is to only cut a piece of ground once a year, while being progressively beastly to the grass – removing fertility from the soil and sowing yellow rattle, which parasitises grass – and encouraging other things to grow in its place.

Given that – as I’ve said before – what this garden really wants to do is grow grass, I may be in for an uphill struggle here. But nothing ventured – and at least it will save the other half some strimming.

future meadow

Watch this space …

So far, we’ve let the grass grow long in our chosen corner over the summer, and have now cut and raked it to remove some of the grass. I’ve also transplanted what I’m fairly certain are wood anemone rhizomes – but realistically, could be anything, so a nice surprise for spring – from another part of the garden, and started creating bare patches where I’ll sow yellow rattle seed and maybe some other wildflower seed that we were given at a wedding last year. Then, hopefully, it will just be a question of time, an occasional strim, and sitting back and watching our meadow bloom. Or, possibly more likely, entering into a battle royal with dock, nettles and brambles – and of course grass – until we give up and take it back to lawn …


A Nice Day for a Climate Demo

September 20, 2019

If a freelancer goes on strike, does anyone notice? Apart from the freelancer, who then ends up having to work the missing hours at another time to catch up.That didn’t stop me heading down the hill into the clearing mist to attend Bigtown’s second youth strike, we old people having been invited to join in.

misty morning

I even made a sign this time, having failed the last time.

bikes not bypasses

This wasn’t on the scale or Edinburgh or Glasgow (or even Kirkcudbright, if the photos on Facebook were anything to go by) but it is an encouraging move and was mostly well received by the passing shoppers of Bigtown. It even turned into something of an ‘open mike’ demo with everyone who had anything to say invited to take a turn at the megaphone. The kids, I have to say, were better at this than the adults, not being given to anything like as much rambling.

No politicians bothered to attend, but after someone pointed out that the Secretary of State for Scotland’s offices were just round the corner, a couple of us did venture round afterwards to see if our MP fancied a word. He wasn’t in (and apparently almost never is – his consituency hours haven’t been upated since May), so we left our signs on his door instead.

And then we sat in the sun and put the world to rights for an hour or so. I suppose I should worry more that we’re able to do this in September at all …

Hopefully the weather will last until Sunday when we’ll be demoing again, in a far more fabulous way (for a certain value of fabulous, at least as far as I’m concerned).

Fancy Women Bike Ride


Buried Treasure

September 15, 2019

This might seem obvious in hindsight, but my top tip for the over fifties is not to spend your first weekend home after a fortnight’s holiday in the US attempting to undo all the overeating by going for your first run in several years, followed by two days of binge gardening in an attempt to undo two weeks’ neglect. Especially when the run in question was a 5km park run that involved a 20 mile* round trip bike ride to get there and the first chore on the gardening list was digging up your potatoes.

Neglected vegetable beds

Still, I’m pleased to report that I actually made it round the course without stopping or injuring myself, and even finished about two-thirds of the way down the pack (admittedly most of the people behind me were either running with a dog or a buggy or both, or started walking almost immediately the whistle blew at the start, but we take our victories where we can find them these days). If I can manage to get up and down the stairs without making a variety of wincing noises by the time next Saturday rolls around, I might even go back and see if I can improve my time.

weed-filled potato beds

There was a potato bed under there, somewhere

The potatoes were also a bit of a bonus. I’d planted five International Kidney seed potatoes (effectively Jersey Royals, but you can only call them that if they’re grown in Jersey so I can only imagine the Jersey Royal Marketing Board spent an entire meeting brainstorming the most offputting potato variety name they could come up with to discourage anyone from growing them elsewhere) in the greenhouse and we’ve had the most delicious potatoes from them, but all good things must come to an end, and the rest of the potato plants had started looking sickly and dying off back in July. Pretty soon they had all gone, and the weeds had taken over so I wasn’t hopeful when I put my fork in the ground but they’ve come up trumps with a reasonable crop:

dug up potatoes

About half the haul

Complete with a bonus florin which, given the speed with which our country appears to be going back to some imagined past, I fully expect to be legal currency some time soon.

two shilling coin

We also have one, count ’em, reasonable looking fennel bulb and a handful of what I will be marketing as ‘baby fennel’ if it doesn’t get a move on in the next couple of weeks.

fennel bulb

On the downside, it would appear that in our absence the mice discovered the beetroot and have spent a blissful undisturbed fortnight while we’ve been away hollowing almost every single one out, the bastards.

mouse-nibbled beetroot

I am now aching in all directions but I have at least made a start at restoring order to the raised beds, and the potatoes have all been sorted and stored, ready for the winter. Bring on your food shortages, Operation Yellowhammer, we’ll be fine. At least for as long as we are happy to survive on potatoes and beetroot-fed mice and whatever a florin will buy you these days …

partly dug potato patch

* I know, I know, but park runs are in kilometres and I still think of distances in miles and I’m not going to start converting either of them just for the sake of consistency.


Corn Fed

September 11, 2019

It’s fair to say, we’ve not gone short of a calorie or two (thousand) on this visit to the US. Most of them have been entirely delicious* and I don’t (currently) regret any of them for an instant but, having done a fair bit of driving and sitting in the last few days, there haven’t been too many opportunities to compensate for all the eating. Today was our last full day, and the forecast was to be fine, so we took the chance burn off some of the surplus if we could, starting with a bike ride with a view of wild turkeys (I’m stupidly excited about wild turkeys although apparently they’re quite common in these parts)…

wild turkeys

And a last chance to enjoy one of the many thousands of lakes.

Sucker lake

We then headed up to Stillwater for lunch which is historic (= has actual streets with shops on them)

Stillwater street

And has a converted grain elevator, which is actually pretty cool

stillwater elevator

Most importantly, and not to be outdone by Iowa, it has an impressive bridge, and although this one is mostly for cars, they let people use it too.

St Croix Crossing

As you can undoubtedly see, it’s an “extradosed” bridge – a hybrid of a cable-stayed and segmental box bridge structure.**

St Croix Crossing closer

Obviously we had to give it a go, especially when we realised we were effectively walking to Wisconsin (I think this is probably the first time I’ve ever crossed a state line on foot although I have walked across an international border that’s getting more contentious by the minute while the other half has walked across an ex-international border that now no longer exists, back in the days when it was the other side putting walls up, not us).

Wisconsin / Minnesota state line

All told it was about a mile there and a mile back – quite long enough to walk on a hot afternoon, although there will soon be a nice circular bike trail once the historic lift bridge is back in action. Just enough to burn off a healthy lunch, with calories to spare to cycle down to the local farmers’ market in Shoreview and buy some more food and rack them all up again and then some.

historic lift bridge

Back to Blighty tomorrow, if we are spared, with, undoubtedly, enough fat reserves to survive the most disastrous of Brexits.

* And can I just say that of all the delicious calories we’ve had on this trip, the sweetcorn (50c per cob at the farmers’ market) has probably been the chief revelation. If you’ve been buying sad little shorn cobs wrapped in clingfilm in British supermarkets you have no idea what you’re missing.

** according to the helpful information sign along the way