Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

What a delightfully f*cked up film directed and rehashed in Tim Burtons own inimtable way. Havent laughed out loud in ages especially when willy wonker shows a far darker side to him than in Dahls book. Danny Elfman of course comes through well with excellent psychedelic music.

Am on call tonight - had better go get some sleep before work

J xx

and there is of course the poem that shaped me, my seeking my adventure

"And the days are not full enough"

And the days are not full enough
And the nights are not full enough
And life slips by like a field mouse
Not shaking the grass

Ezra Pound

My summer of love

Just seen a very good modern art house film - my summer of love - worth a look and in blockbusters at the moment - its gotme thinking about being at boarding school for 12 years - strange - one just has to lkook at dead poets society and you will get one side of things - another country is another film that add flavour - but especially also the film i saw tonight.... on the ever more domestic front i have just been given a double bed by my friend - dont know which room of three to stay in - perhaps we could have a vote?

the back bedroom is light in the morning (like a summer room really) but next door likes to play drums and it reverberates -

the front room is very much the master bedroom, large imposing, nassiuve desk - i.e. the ideal place to put new bed...the only trouble is the room is very bright and little sleep will be had - unless i get some blackout curtain (9.99 in dunelm i believe)

at the momnet the compromise seems to be the middle bedroom which is the smallest and to tell you the truth was going to use as a study...but we shall see

oh dear - it seems I am becoming more domesticated as we speak - thenew cutlery speak wonders of course and im sure most of this will be read tongue in cheek.

Anyway heres a poem i read at a-level by seamus heaney - it might be worth it in the end

Digging

Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests; as snug as a gun.

Under my window a clean rasping sound
When the spade sinks into gravelly ground:
My father, digging. I look down

Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds
Bends low, comes up twenty years away
Stooping in rhythm through potato drills
Where he was digging.

The coarse boot nestled on the lug, the shaft
Against the inside knee was levered firmly.
He rooted out tall tops, buried the bright edge deep
To scatter new potatoes that we picked
Loving their cool hardness in our hands.

By God, the old man could handle a spade,
Just like his old man.

My grandfather could cut more turf in a day
Than any other man on Toner's bog.
Once I carried him milk in a bottle
Corked sloppily with paper. He straightened up
To drink it, then fell to right away
Nicking and slicing neatly, heaving sods
Over his shoulder, digging down and down
For the good turf. Digging.

The cold smell of potato mold, the squelch and slap
Of soggy peat, the curt cuts of an edge
Through living roots awaken in my head.
But I've no spade to follow men like them.

Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests.
I'll dig with it.

back online

its been a couple of days since i last wrote anything here - well ok a week.

Ive moved house. One of my ex's will hate me for this but its turned me into an incredibly tidy person. I am now house proud and can been seen (by stalkers and peeping toms at any rate,) running around the house stark bollock naked in a pinny and feather duster! My kitchen is a dream to cook in and i have just bought a new chopper and chopping board.

Today I went to howells to buy some cutlery - god its expensive - even in the sale - but I did see a nice mattress for my new bed that i am being given by a mate. its 300 quid tho so I will have to save and save. WIll someone please explain to me - how is it that before I had my own place with my own space, was i so completely hopeless at caring for it - i would leave dirty dishes for weeks - i would leave clothes on the floor - its the same in the hospital accommodation - but give me somewhere to live I can call my own and its turned into the Tandoori paradise!

Last night I saw Joe Black and was so moved had to write the following down on laptop, whilst waiting for broadband to be installed in house (now I need some other bureaucratic pin number to log on but there you go)

"Just been watching Joe Black – in previous times I’ve watched it I hadn’t considered it to be one of my fave films of all time, but I suppose like many things, ones views change, or can be affected by ones mood. There is a scene in the hospital where Joe (played by the boyish Brad Pitt) chats to a Jamaican woman who is dying – he speaks to her in creole, and all is better with the world….the music is a little corny and perhaps a pre-runner of Thomas Newman’s Six Feet Under or Finding Nemo (Copeland has a lot to answer to)…but it fits all perfectly….just seen the credits – it was Thomas newman after all.
(the girls might have brad pitt to like but the guys at least get Claire forlani!)
Another scene has the enviable phrase….”I like things like…having a food that you cant do without”. It reminds me that one always has needs….that is to me what life is about.

Or how about “Men who never talk about themselves are always married aren’t they”? Hey a film that gives men ammunition..how great is that?

I saw the Live 8 concert and saw pink Floyd – a group I haven’t listened to in years as band after band have influenced how I see the world. Perhaps when you are with a certain person your music and other tastes change. 6 months ago I liked only indie music, greek salads and red wine….now I am alone again I found myself listening to the St Matthew Passion in the car…a piece of music I performed 15 years ago….and tears well to my eyes. How could it be when I was with a composer did I not wish to hear classical music and now I am not it shines into my life again. My preference of drink is currently white wine, although that could be just the weather. The occasional luxury cigarette is also relished, although with passing time one should tone downs ones excesses.

Why such an odd ditty? Just the realisation that no matter what life throws at you, the world is an incredibly mutable place, full of wonder, and full of new things around the corner."

New bads being listened to include Sigur Ros, Royksopp, James Blunt, Nine Black Alps "unsatisfied" and "Doorbell" by the white stripes which is ironically quite appropriate having just moved.

ON the music front - how the hell did Coldplay get so much airtime from BBC radio Sycophant - they all sound the bloody same and are certainly not in the same league as U2 etc - this drivel leads me to...wait for it the radio1 playlist...try http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio1/chart/playlist.shtml here for information - i was surprised at how few songs they actually have to play.....no wonder you can be catapulted to fame quicker than charlotte churches knockers on a telephone camera.

Anyway tatty bye - need to go see a film or something

Love Jamie xx

phone

phone is now running again - however using old phone - if you want to hear from me then getmessaging again so i can pick up your number.....

heres a bit of brief from last day in spain

met some guys from my school (although ten years younger . the same bullshit stories to try to lure the girls in, still work

discovered that at the end of the day - unless theres something in it for them, the majority of the spaniards I met were rude, greedy and selfish. Any request for help was met with disdain and a look of pity. Sorry, I can only comment on the 100 or so i met - maybe they all know each other.

GOt phone stolen in airport - will remember not to use two panniers in future - for those 2 of you ready to make comments about me losing stuff try and look into your own past and realised that you're not so fucking perfect yourselves.

Was very glad to eventually get back to UK and am now moving house - watch this space

Jamie xx

mobile probs

For those who have been trying to get in contact - my mobile has been out of action for the last 48 hours and I wont get anyones texts for at least another 72 hours - the only major disadvantage with 3 mobile is this wasiting for azges for new sim cards

In Good company

Without this appearing to be a commercial venture - i have just seen a wonderful feelgood film about the bits and pieces but the music was very good...a little like Good Will Hunting

The DVD has scarlett johannssen in it and is called In Good Comapny

the following is the track list if you want indeererererevidual songs

Glass Concrete and Stone – David Byrne
Gone for Good (The Shins – from James Mercer)
Sister Surround – Soundtrack of our lives
Naked as we came – Iron and Wine
Get wit me – Wreck and Dante Powell
Chain of Fools – Arethra Franklin
Cannonball – Damien Rice
Sunset soon Forgotten – Iron and Wine
Besame Mucho – Diana Krall
Ten Years ahead – soundtrack of our lives
Those to come – The Shins – from James Mercer
Solsbury Hill – Peter Gabriel
Reeling in the Years – Steeleye Dan
The Trapeze swinger – Iron and Wine



Some real news will be posted as soon as we enter reality again!

j xcx

A poem

Why Did I Dream of You Last Night?


Why did I dream of you last night?
Now morning is pushing back hair with grey light
Memories strike home, like slaps in the face;
Raised on elbow, I stare at the pale fog
beyond the window.

So many things I had thought forgotten
Return to my mind with stranger pain:
- Like letters that arrive addressed to someone
Who left the house so many years ago.

Philip Larkin

The highs and Lows

I believe Jo Whiley (Queen of Indie Kitten on Radio 1...purr) does the highs and lows of things like Glastonbury...heres one of my own


One high is waking up next to Scarlet Johannssen in my bed this morning
the low was realising it was just her picture on the back of the telegraph

A low was misreading some of the names in the bomb blast
the high realising i should really put my glasses on before reading names in the paper and almost reaching for the mobile to call the international hotline

Low: Im not getting much cycling done here in spain
High: Im not getting much cycling done here in spain and can pop down the beach 100metres from my door instead!

Low: Being on holiday alone and not being able to share things with someone close
High: Being on holiday alone and meeting lots a mad Irish people and not getting to bed util 4.30am (AGAIN....groan)

Low: having to eat KFC as the bars dont open for food between 12 and 5pm
High: well there isnt one to that im afraid

anyway...enough of that....

I was meant to go out last night with some canadian students last night from the pension, but managed to sleep for too long by which time I had just missed them leaving by ten minutes...out into the street I went, already thronging with thousands of spaniards (note there are virtually NO british to be found here - they prefer it more in Benidorm to the north, plus theres been a little less interest here in recent times due to the ETA bomb on the sea front a while ago

will be back in a mo need to opo back to pension for money

here I am again

since the blast in london the police presence here has been pretty high profile, not sure why, maybe theres a general alert in Spain too. There were a couple of massive explosions that made everyone jump earlier today but it seems it was just one of the massive firecracker sessions they do on a regular basis for whatever festival is going on.

I fell asleep earlier on to beowken by a haunting choir outside what I thought was the window...in fact it was coming from the cathedral opposite. I marvel always at the architecture here . most buildigs have the fantastic on theoutside...not so with the cathedral...it looks like a dull square building from outside, but once inside the place is massive, quietly imposing and with shafts of light from the incredibly small but high windows punctuating old incense. Statues of the madonna abound and many people alone are here sat contemplating, paying perhaps for the lottery..who knows.

The faces of people interest me the most. Of course almost everyone here is in fantastic shape, almost sculped by the waves and sands of the mediterranean, and obsesity seems to be reserved only for the elderley who seem content to sit out their lot, play chess and puff constantly from small black cigars. But the faces....there are broadly two types of people here, the typical spanish with slightly large nose, very well defined eyes whether wearing makeup or not, dark and blonde; and on the other side there are a people who look very south american and are generally shunned by the rest. I dont know whether these are people who have come from CHile or peru seeking fortune, or whether this is a particularly indiginous look.

When on the beach today i saw family family family, no arguing just contentment. A small child came up to me and said Por favor pointing at my bottle of water...his mother rushed over to scold and apologise, but those little eyes and the upturned nose just struck a note in me.

As I woke earlier, I was greeted by the open balcony of my new room (there is a couple moved into my old room) and behiond the balcony the massive edifice of the castle which is on my photos website but only in the dark so far (I will update the photos once I am home).

I think I am just saying that at last after trying to get the medic out of me, I have found peace....I woke up yesterday and only just realised now that I am a doctor, but my holiday has served its pupose and I have been removed from the grind that is my job.

But back to last night...i bumped into the four irish girls, (three teachers and one IT consultant) and after saying hello, they said "well jimmy boy are you coming or not"....i miss that side of life. We went to a couple of places for sangria and then to club havana which is worth a look but there is little space for dancing...and boy can the spaniards dance...Andy B all is forgiven we miss your little steps!

When you walk around alicante in the day, apart from the fast food stores you cannot see any sign of life...all windows are barred and shuttered against the harsh...but at night like an anemone (awww Find Nemo i miss you) the place becomes incredibly vibrant. In the same space as downtown cardiff you will find approimately 1000 bars, most with seats outside, and those that are not are often just a window sized door leading down to a cellar or up to a roof where you can drink Moquitos if you like, a wonderfully potent but refreshing drink made of lemon, some unknown alcohol and fresh mint leaves all mashed up in a teapot. I feel sad that I dont know the name of the bar we went to for that as they pùrport to sell only the best in Alicante. WE then went on for food which is unbelievably cheap (about a third to a quarter of the UK price for similar sized portions)

Some of the girls had to go back to catch a plane early in the morning so I was left with two and we stumbled into a four story house dopwn a backstreet, thronging with spaniards only, dancing to spanish music without a hint of pop in sight....imagine the passion and heat and the rythmic gyrating of so many and you will only be a tenth of the way there....what a wonderful way to finish my night, leaving me sober but tired enough to fall asleep against the music from downstairs.....

the Pope - he leeeves - in alicante of all places!

Well here I am back in Alicante

This decision was a culmination of several events - not being able to get any more accommodation in Murcia as the uni medical school has hogged all the room for graduation, not being keen to have a 9 hour train ride on a tiny train to Bilbao, having eventually got advice from other cyclists that the hills are just too wearing unless you are training for tour de france/triathlon, and basically at the end of the day feeling like I had bitten off more than i could chew with the heat.

Again, whilst cycling today ended up in the desert at 42 degrees c....etc sodit im getting a train. I was tempted to get the train to Alicante, get to the airport and get the next flight home to do some serious mileage in an easier climate...but then I had one last go at finding somewhere nice to stay in Alicante.

I went from very depressed feeling like its no fun being on holiday on ones own, not speaking the language (although having learned the essentials such as wheres the loo, wheres the internet, does my arse look big in this etc), terribly missing previous holiday chums cos they´re either getting married and under the thumb or are ex´s. For those who received a despondent text, have no fear cos im here for a few more days at least.

Last time i was here i saw only a few main areas of alicante, this time i went to tourist information (I think the 500 gram lonely planet guide might ned up getting binned at this rate) and found the cheapest hostel in the arse end of the town...however it might seem a dank area, its got so many nooks and crannie and bars and cafe´s hidden away its a bit like the Medina in Marrakech.

I was greeted at the Pension Cathedral by a rather short bronzed septuagenarian man who had so many crucifixes around his neck and resembled Pope John Paul II so much I thought the man had in fact risen on the third day(ye gods remembering that appalling catholic Jesuit upbringing i had to endure)...aaaaaaanyway after him saying i couldnt possibly stay cos ihad a bike his not so sacred eyes lit up when i offered to pay the full 12 quid for a double room in order to keep the bike there! By the way this chap doesnt speak a word of english but understands a few words of greek and french plus sign language, we managed to muddle through...hurrah for opposable thumbs indeed! My room is clean, it has an amazing balcony (again) with a better view than the 5 star abode round the corner and is seated just above the casino, the internet cafe and best irish american bar ive been to.

Popping downstairs to have a quick caña (half pint) i met an american barmaid called megan and her aunt who is visiting. Incidentally she´s 21 shagging the 47 year iranian bar manager which her aunt is not meant to know and so between you guys, me and the lampost we shall have to treasure this dirty secret to the end of our days. Another incidentally as soon as the bar manager found out i was a doctor he asked why his viagra wasnt working on his 4 girlfriends - anyone with any (clean) suitable suggestions can send a postcard to Dirty Old Hamed, Austin Powers Bar, Plaza Mexico, Alicante etc.

In short my mood is much better and Im off down the beach tomorrow (34 km away so still cycling) as long as tonights revellery (or is it just revelry).

I shall leave you all for now and i hope you are all well. Take care

Love Jamie xx

PS starting to get a twinge in upper right four...i hope this isnt the start of a toothache as dentists here are all private:(

Cycling, heat desert

HI All

Sorry its been a day or two - ive seen lots of lovely sights but due to recent circs e.g. the london bombings i have clean forgotten a few of them.

Anyway...yesterday still in alicante at 11a.m.- deciding whether to escape alicante for madrid, i eventually alighted on the idea of heading towards Murcia, partly biking it (47km and getting the train as well 40 km) - the ticket you get anywhere along the line is 2 euros fifty would put BR out of business immediately were you to follow suit.)

First despondent day- got a little burned in the desert stretches on my 40 km hike (total water drunk about 6 litres, total output 500mls very dark colour which either puts me in abject renal failure or just very dehydrated. Have opted for latter to be on safe side....the desert did actually get too dry to cross and i began to think "hmmm maybe this cycling around spain in 37 degrees was not such a good idea...ive not met an english speaker in days (normally not a problem but sain is first country ive not managed to get around in linguistically for a very long time) ive got a little heatstroke and i cant even put my bike in storage on the train and the train stops every 5 km so need to move bike away from door as locals keep saying loco Ingles when they see me. As only got ticket one way was very tempted just to keep going from murcia to madrid fly back and find a less bloody hot and mountainous country.

Anyway before i got on the train the 40km i did involved having to cycle 20km twice in order to pick up mobile from hotel! plus another 20km across desert- was in fact very enjoyable with slightly exhausting 1 in 50 hill climbs that just went on for km after km. However, spanish drivers are not as previously described manic deviants but incredibly courteous, takgin very long wide berthof any pasty looking morons on two wheels on the road.

I eventually made it to Elche (spelled Ex) and enjoyed sitting in cafe outside train station with v strong coffee and spanish book (which I think i might ditch at next possible moment). Elche is famous for two things palm trees (29000 of the bloody things line the immaculate streets (note this town is the size of clitheroe in lancs) and apparently they produce 20 million pairs of shoes a year as well.

Note...everything in this country is wonderfly slow....i turned up in time for the train (the guy said tris emeres which I took to mean 3 in the afternoon from the greek and not half three in spanish and so i settled down with the local newspaper and a lovely spanish potato and cheese flan....it nearly all wentr horribly wrong when i went to the wrong platform after reading hand written sign for platform two which i later found out the conductors remove about 1 minute before a train arrives ' imagine underground station steps (no escalators) withppor sod trying to hoof bike up and down stairs with unbelievably awkward panniers threatening to topple two wheels at any one moment.

Train jounrey was as above - fantastic desert scenes with scarey mid size mountains in every direction. I eventually arrived in Murcia, which I think must be a uni town judging by the innocent looking chiquitas in rugby tops at the railway station. Talking of chiq type sounding words what is it with spaniards and chihuahuas? I klnow the bloody things came from south america originally but they´re not big and they´re not clever.....ive seen sister shaggers from Gloucester walking around with ferrets on a string and you get the idea.

Murcia is a wonderful city - very colonial amazing buildings very tall buildinged thin alleyways that youcould possible run from one balcony to another. Managed to everntually find Pension HispaÑo II for 20 euros a night. But before that here is my first accident.

Just pedalled over river through alleyway onto mainroad...about to turn left into oncoming traffic before realising not in england and hey presto left knee hit by wing mirror of car doing 40 mph....lots of agony and then slow motion collapse of bike and rider (who...cant...get...the..damn...feet...out...of...the...pedals in time) onto ground on two outstretched hands and left knee...thankfully just v bad bruising and a gashed left slightly wobbly knee and skin missing off shin....Hey im no longer a crash virgin!

Bike thankfully ok as body took the main impact.

Back at the hotel got bike upstairs (this pension looks like a 1930´s evita peron in Argentina type place very dark inside and well lit in the front rooms on first floor which gives me ample opportunity to watch people walk on the marble tiles outside (everywhere is either gold plated or marble in this city how the hell do they afford it?), ample opportunity to either drop peanuts down the cleaveage of beauties (as if!!!)below or to note that men tend to walk alone in the evening and mother and daughter (whether 35 and 10 or 75 and 50 without exception shop together...the young children still wear virgin white dresses to the ankle...there are the peasant folk (local gypsies despised by the bolder lighter skinned iberians here) and the musicians whos repertoire on guitars and squeezeboxes seems more 40´s french than spanish.

Of course the hotel is in an alleyway overlooking the biggest FUCK OFF gargantuan cathedral i have seen in a long time! YOu´´ll have to excuse thelast expletive once of the guys I met in the hotel is very ,very camp and knows stonyhurst and i was imitating him plus his friend Kate who is also a teacher at the same school on holiday. After denying alcohol for total of 15 mins on the grounds I might like to cycle the next day i thought sod it im on holiday.....my god english speaking people whom i normally avoind like the plague what a god send!

the usual story ensues of going out with them for tapas at 8pm then coming home at 3pm after 100 euros worth of boozing and if you ever get the chance then there is a little bar called....damn...i cant rememer.... alcohol poisoning with a lovely bar man that both andrew and kate fancied.

Today was spent at the local municipal pool that shames the olympic one in swansea (why do so called poorer countries in rurope get their priorities right?) and am now beetroot colored after lovely day in sun failing to do telegraph cryptic crossword!

And so we get onto the subject of bombings....i dont have a great deal to say on the matter other than that already texted to everyone on my phone, but short and and simple....murder, especially such indiscriminate kind is unforgivable and anyone who undertakes it will get their just desserts, I could say more but this blog would turn very very ugly in a very very short period of time. I would prefer that such things had not happened but there we go

On a lighter note and appalling joke from Andrew of Oxford Uni

Q: How many Oxford Dons does it take to change a light bulb?
A: (with glasses perched on nose) like an Oxford Don "Change? Change? what on earth is that?)

Oh well

Heres some personal messages

Go home, be good, sleep tight

Love Jamie xx

ALicante - not such a pit after all

Well im here...i am having problems uploading photos and getting this damn spanish keyboard to use the spacebar but you should be able to see my photos for this trip at photos.yahoo.com/hipponax1973.

For those of you who have read that i was going to madrid on my flight this is not you losing your minds as Bill gates sucks your souls dryon the internet but as you can see in the files below you can indeed see this written by myself.

However thanks to British rail Imiseed myflightinyet anotherJOhnCleesemanner.Atfirst livid, I just thought "sod it ill go to anywhere on the next easy jet flight.

a la faulty towers the excuse this time at the train station was as follows.

"Im sorry sir, were not allowed to keep bikes in the station as they pose a security risk"
"What?" was my exasperated reply as I then found i was going to have to take my bike 4 miles away in the sleeting rain and cycle it back in again. (By the way sarah dont worry about bashing the car - its insured and now that someone has taken a swipe at the rear wheel arch in tescos ijust dont care and they can go all Black and Decker on its ass for all its worth. (NB Sarah this doesnt however give you licence to go ramraiding at H&M)

Anyway to cut a long story short and after coming back and issuing such sounds that made babies cry and motherscover the eyes and ears of their off sprìng in my tirade against the bureaucracy of British Rail, which, by the way cant afford to f*ck over its customers all the time. (For everyone´s information a man could insult my family and kill my dog and I would barely bat an eyelid, but were he to use the words "I cant sir, its against HEALTH AND SAFETY REGULATIONS.." redmist would descend over my eyes and noone would even be safe in a room full of marsh mallows....

Ahem again

i came back and got the later train to Bristol Airport. PLease note that every conductor, train manager, bus driver and even traffic policeman tried their hardest to put any obstacle in front of my safe passage of the bike to the airport, but finally I arrived at Bristol, dismantled Shergar (which my trusty steed will forthwith be known) boxed him and switched flights to alicante.

Easy jet in the end are a fantastic airline to be with and the flight was lovely uneventful and full of English trash:)

When we landed it was about 25 degrees and after putting the bike back together in thew arrivals lounge (bike temp was about 4 degrees as in cargo hold and looked like the delorean in back to the future with steam coming off it (imagine red faced jamie cursing as pedals wont quite go back on the right way around and pumping a tire in such humidity makes one look quite simply like a hooligan....)

but i desist

I was advised by a nice essx rep man that the town was only about 4 km down the road and i thought...fine i know its night time, he says its a quiet road everything will be fine..

EIGHTEEN kilometres later on a dual carriageway inhabited only by lorry drivers on smack, i was getting a little worried but headed towards the lights of alicante..first of all past the sewage works and then past no less than 40 odd prostitutes south of the town (apparently the russians have moved in cash, property and pros).

THe town centre was deserted of brits and in fact I found a lovely little harbour like the marina in swansea with bars stil open with locals.

Accommodation you say? Well i tried every place in the Lonely PLanet guide (weighs about 600 grammes, I could use it to rob a jewellers if I run out of cash) but to no avail as the locals are on holiday...I eventually made it back towards the airport and got a room for 59 euros at the Hotel Ibis who found a cancellation and felt sorry for me sat on the pavement getting far too much abuse from russian hookers.

Air condition,,shower, beer, crap american tv, asleep......

TODAY - 6km ride in alicante town at 10 a.m. (which goes against my idea of getting up at 6.30 a.m. every day to escape the heat but i did only get to bed at 3.45 a.m.) THere are some photos at the website address above including a couple of black and white ones (I think that the spanish were destined to only be shot in B&W...it brings out the latin looks a lot more....

More tomorrow - i havent decided how much further to cycle today and may get train to valencia or madrid, or Murcia (google it) as over night

Total miles so far :22
TOtal idiots so far :22
Total flat tires so far :0

Adios amicos

Jamie xx

18 hours to go

At last...the build up is worse than Live 8 and no fit presenters (if you can see old Sir Bob in that light then good luck to you) to tide you over until the off....

I am flying tomorrow from Bristol at 5 .45 pm landing at 9pm in Madrid and then getting overnight to Bilbao on northern coast. What a bloody palaver (if anyone knows the background (grandad?) of the word Palaver then i would be most grateful)

In order to fly on a plane with the bike you require a bike box...here is the phonecall to Bristol Airport

Advice Person "Yes sir you are allowed to take the bike with you...you however need a bike box, which we used to sell down in check-in"
Me : "USED to sell?"
Advice person : "Thats correct sir"
Me "Do you get regular fliers with their bikes?"
Advice Person : "Oh yes sir"
Me "And theres no boxes to sell to these fliers"
Advice Person : No sir, I believe you can bring them with you though"
Me "And where on a bike do you think i put a bike box?
Advice Person : I didnt think of that. I can put you through to the cleaning company if you like?
Me: "Sorry? I thought we were talking about bike boxes - why on earth do i want to talk to your contractors?"
Advice person: I thought that they might be able to give you some cardboard boxes, sir. Please hold whilst i connect you {greensleeves ensues, gleefully massacred by the Azabaijanian Dwarf Assembly Quartet)

etc ad nauseam

I feel dirty and need a shower - i assume john cleese has to go through this at every opportunity

Spanish airports have an absolute industry running bike boxes at 10 euros a throw. Much as I would like to have the stabilisers stolen off my beast i think it safer all round if the thing is wrapped up so that some poor unfortunate worker doesnt get a derailleur through the orbit! AAAAAANNyway..I have got an idea - i will drive from Morriston Swamp to cardiff, borrow box there from bike shop, get dropped off at trainstation, wrap box on train, put box in bottom of Airport express at temple meads put on plane and hope that it (bike) doesnt get diverted to Kuala Lumpur.

Remember that bloody stupid Millenium Jellyfish that has wormed its way onto the credits of Eastenders looking from space like a giant Madonna Nipple of the 80's era? Well the 800 million odd that that cost could have gone on cycle paths etc. Bastards.

Anyway chaps at the bottom of each post you will note the toggle to make a comment - please feel free to do so(as it will make me feel that this trip has some comedy value) although extreme abuse I believe gets moderated by the bosses of the website.

Take care my lovelies (sorry Bristol)

Jamie xx

MASH and bangers

I have just been watching some more MASH on DVD - whether you are medically minded or not, this stuff is pure lotion for the soul. I will recommend this as a salve to anyone on a low or high point, recently divorced, lost the lottery or bought shares with Railtrack. I think there must be some sort of gene that makes people either love it or hate it - i thought it was an age thing as some of my younger friends in their early twenties dont get the jokes but then again some of my other friends in their early 20's cant get enough.

Father - you used to watch this when you were stationed abroad BAOR etc- how was it then?
Grandad - you used to tell me tales in Johannesburg that kept me awake for hours - I wish i had more to tell you outside medicine
Michelle - thanks for the drinks whilst watching MASH - they make it all the more hilarious. I hope you are better soon as Flares aint the same without you
Alun - i hope you never get posted, life would be al too simple with you not around
Perks - did you ever see it?
Goodhand - its been too long - get in touch - i hope you are producing kids rather than just music now
Andrew B - thanks for being an inspiration - especially with the Edinburgh Cycles link - they got me to choose the right bike in the end
Mrs B - thanks for being one of the most generous people i know in body spirit and mind

The following will only make sense to Cardiff Medics past and present

CHAPTER 10 - A New Beginning

....In a galaxy far far away
....The forces of evil are ever present
....Management have taken over all sensibilities
....The rebel alliance is taking heavy casualties against Management onslaught, under the soundbite leadership of Darth Brown-Gimp of the Assembly but we will prevail.....
....Nurse practitioner squadrons are proving vital in their communiques with the enemy
....Master Win-Ter-Burn, head of the Council, my he rest in peace, has been sighted saying ".....Use the forks, use the forks", after the latest NHS canteen budget....

And so we continue...

The start of that almighty trip i never shut up about

Well I thought that this would probably be the fairest place to start writing things as can just send my webbie address to everyone.

1. I now have all the gear - I thought I was going to spend x-amount of money just on kit but for x i have almost got the whole holiday paid for - i now own a nice new shiny marin fairfax (its on the Marin website) with carbon front forks carriers and panniers on the bike and, oh, yes reflectors, although I have been reliably warned that its marginalyl safer cycling at night as the locals are eating and drinking and smoking their little brains out rather than "skimming" (the local sport done during the day before and after siesta (with so much sleeping and festivals how does the country do anything I wonder?)) which involves driving as close to cyclists as possible and clipping them off their bikes in such as way that as they crash to the gorund they cant recognise your number plate and sue you.....its little wonder that in 1999 spanish parliament banned cycling from so many different roads in spain and dont you DARE ride without a helmet.....

Ahem - here is my COMPLETE kit list

Bike, panniers,pump,toolkit,repair kit,ipod,camera,mobile,toothbrush and paste plus razor, cycling shoes,2 cycling shirts,2 shorts, ultralightweight waterproof, pair of linen trousers and shirt,inner tube,helmet,suncream,sunnies, and i believe one passport and 2 credit cards - total weight 6 kg (plus the flip flops) and it STILL feels bloody heavy on the back of the bike

2. Someone or something doesnt want me to do the trip. Whilst purchasing the bike and adding SPD pedals (google it) i manage to go over badly on my ankle...whilst fitting SPDS to bike manage to stand up too quickly and bang head drawing blood - whilst test riding bike damaged right wrist - the list is endless but amusing in a 3 stooges sort of way.

3. As usual, something I learned from my ex, everything has been left to the last second, but as another ex said it must be exciting to go away on holiday and not know when you are coming back - bless her heart I love her to bits..:) I am debating whether to fly to wait for it...Bilbao, Barcelona, Madrid, errrm Cadiz, Valencia...etc or even somewhere completely different such as Sardinia, Serbia, France ~(e.g. toulouse) on the basis that most budget airlines will do a cheapo to one of these places. Only trouble is if you buy a return the ticket is real cheap but if you buy a single quite expensive so is a circular route better or a run and scramble (i.e. cycle as far as poss and get train back in time for flight). Alternatively i could just risk it and turn up to the airport like I did when i was 20 - far much more fun.

4. The plan at the mo is to follow coastal routes - i was originally going to cycle bilbao (for the Guggenheim) to Barcelona (for the Cathedral) and then get a train if i need to in between cos Spain is unblievably hot inland (up to 42 degrees apparently. I have been advised to get up at 6 most mornings and cycle for 2-5 hours before the sun gets too high. The only trouble is with our siesta loving comrades is that such early rises need early to bed and most of them dont eat til 10pm so we will have to overcome that hurdle too..

5. For those nutty enough its worth planning this kind of shebang in advance and actually get fit...not easy for me as I have slaving away in my favourite hospital shit-hole, but hopefully i can pick it up as i go along

More stuff tomorrow and maybe some photos if that is possible and hopefully a flight will appear at some point too

Take care

J xx