R O T H A R . C O M

…they’d probably be the best cats in the world. And they’d benefit from having some of Acer’s genes. He’s an Island Cat, coming from the south coast valleys of Guernsey. He is a truly big cat, not fat, just huge and sinewy. He’s not a mouser either, in our house he’s known as a big game cat, because when he used to go out on the kill (doesn’t seem interested in chasing things these days), he didn’t go for sparrows or mice.

Nope he went for seagulls. Or rabbits. One day we woke up to find he’d taken out a whole family of rabbits and left their bodies on the back lawn. He’s a fussy eater and as he’s getting old his canine teeth have fallen out and now he’s only one left, which mean he has added fang to his list of nick names. Without doubt he is a complete character and the old boy is a great fireside companion to contemplate a good Malt Whiskey with.

Forget all the marketing nonsense and tacky gimmicks and the Eve of All Hallows has some really great traditions associated with it. The night before All Saints Day is a chance to carve some pumpkin lanterns.

Makes good soup too, best served with a nice oven warmed focaccia and some freshly ground black pepper and paprika.

Harry Hall the founder of Manchester’s finest bike shop has passed away. Back in the day he opened his first shop in 1957 and worked hard to establish a name in the British Cycling scene through hand-built in Manchester own-brand frames. Harry Hall bikes went onto feature in many World Class stage races, including the Milk Race.

I never met Harry that many times, but my most vivid memory was working with him at a demo day up in Mellor where he was insistent on doing all the spanner work on the bikes – fettling brakes, swapping pedals and getting mucky. Harry of course was a famous bike mechanic, providing support services to pro races from the 1950s onwards, often from a Mini. He was mechanic to Tom Simpson during the 1967 Tour de France in which Simpson famously passed away.

Since 1989 Harry Hall Cycles has been owned by Harry’s son Graham, who took up the challenge following Harry’s retirement. Harry used this change in his life to focus on racing and became a successful veteran cyclist, winning numerous medals, including a World Championship. He was without doubt a major player in the development of cycling and the trade in the UK and was a popular figure in the North West, which was the home and training ground of the professional British rider long before the building of the now world famous velodrome.

Your lights. First ride home of the year last night since the clocks went back, so something had to go wrong and of course I managed to forget a front light. I’ve been carrying rear lights for the last couple of weeks because if it’s been over cast or raining I’ve needed some extra illumination. In the end I drafted a van most of the way home and then chanced it through a couple of leafy streets before making it safely home. I’ll dig out the Light and Motion HID for tonight. There ain’t going to be no fool saying they didn’t see me with that bad lad strapped on the bars.

First ride in a long time this weekend with a trip up to Ireby in the Northern Lake District and a ride on Saturday around Bassenthwaite Lake. The weather was changeable as you’d expect from the Lakes at this time of year, but it was warm and we made the most of the last days riding of the year before the clocks went back on Saturday night.

Found some time to visit Keswick, Cockermouth and Carlisle, although the latter was only because a trip to the Audi dealer there was needed. The car alarm went off randomly the entire time we were away which woke everyone up on the first night at 1am until I drove the car into the middle of nowhere and then walked back to our B&B, the very nice Woodlands Country House.

So on Saturday it was whisked off to Carlisle Audi where they were supposed to have disabled the alarm horn, but unexplainably seem to have failed in even this simple task despite charging for the work. There’s some explaining to be done there then. Despite the woes it was a great weekend away and I can’t wait to get back out on the bike again.

Few more photos up here 

Friday took me down to London for a social engagement at the Savile Club, so I used the rest of the day to drop into the Royal Geographical Society, Science Museum and the Tate Modern. It would have been criminal to go and not check out the art form that has so many different people talking about it.

One thing that is hard to appreciate is the sheer scale of it and the fact that the crack really do tail off into micro cracks in the concrete. Even though the Guardian exposed the construction methods last week, it really has to be seen to be appreciated.

In other news, not much riding going on. Went to rugby training today and still feel reasonable so I think I’ve finally recovered from the lurgy. Fingers crossed anyway. My prediction for the Rugby World Cup Final: England vs South Africa.

This time of year is much the same as ever. Lots to do, not much time to do it in and shifting priorities with the added excitement of the change in weather bring out all kinds of respiratory ailments. I’m feeling almost human again now. Certainly well enough to put the road bike to good use for the 20 minute return home journey from Stockport Audi.

The car has needed to be booked in for it’s 80k service for a while and with one thing or another it’s taken time to fit it in. With hindsight the fact that they managed to fit me in for this morning when I phoned yesterday, probably wasn’t a good sign, but I lived in hope that at least one of the three local Audi dealers must be okay (Macclesfield had already been a big disappointment).

So I dropped the car off rode home and then returned for the advised 12.30 pick up. Was it ready? Non. Ended up having to wait for 30 minutes until the service manager could see me. Then found out they hadn’t changed the four wheel drive oil or filter. Why? Because time is tight on a Saturday. WTF! Why have you booked me in knowing the type of car I have and the work involved in giving it a 80k service on a day you don’t have time to do it? Then discover it’s still not ready. Why? Because they’re still cleaning it. FFS! Another 30 minutes of my life elapses before it’s ready.

As I drive home fuming at another poor experience at the hands of Brits playing at being Germans. Don’t bother you’re clearly rubbish and don’t understand customer care. Why did everyone else get offered teas and coffees whilst they waited? Why was the only thing they had to read one copy of the Telegraph? There wasn’t even any promotional material. Even the Audenshaw Bodyshop has a copy of the brochures for each model.

Absolute rubbish! I’m sure the head of technical at Audi AG wouldn’t be impressed at the lackadaisical attitude towards the maintenance of the legendary Quattro drive system either. I decide some music is needed to distract my testosterone fuelled annoyance, only to discover not one of the radio stations available is actually playing any music.

I don’t want to listen to some mong talking about how massively exciting his life is. i do not want to listen to their opinions on football, ice cream or fashion. I definitely do not want to know that someone last night left a half eaten kebab on a doorstep to greet someone this morning. Gordon Ramsay’s Bleep-O-Fucking-Meter had nothing on the language that followed that discovery. Cocks!

Like death and taxes, Freshers’ Flu is unavoidable at this time of the year. It’s the result of working at a University here in the UK and lot’s of people arriving from all over the world with a payload of biological weapons that they release into the air. The question is never  whether you will get it, rather how badly and for how long and if you’re really unlucky, how many times.

The name of course isn’t necessary reflective of the actual conditions. Freshers’ Flu ranges from full on “can’t get out of bed and being sick” Influenza that lasts days to Bad Colds and Throat and Chest Infections. Malt whiskey, proper honey and lots of lemons plus Ibuprofen are the weapons of choice in the current conflict. Round one seems to be over (I’m hoping it doesn’t return).

It’s been crazy this last few days. I rode into work on Monday and have been walking to and from work ever since. It’s just a mad time of the year with so much happening that takes people out of the office and to sites all over the City.  With careful route planning it’s easier to end up nearer home that the office at the end of the day, making a walk home an easy option.

This morning I tried a change of tack and ended up taking the bus. It’ll be the last time. Stagecoach have pushed their prices up to £1.30 now, a 20% fare increase for the same route (on which they have a monopoly) since the end of the last academic term in June. It wouldn’t have been so bad but the bus driver was an obnoxious cock who made me feel like rearranging his teeth with my bare knuckles.

Yesterday on the walk into work I had a falling out with the chap in the local post office, to the extent I’ve made a complaint about him. I get to ride home tonight and I’m now convinced that riding to bikes is the least stressful, the fastest and healthiest way to get to work.