New Year's Day 2013 races

Photograph Quiz:

Photo no. 125:- The race starts, or used to start, in front of a cathedral. Which one? In which year was the event first held? Who organised the first race? What type of race is it? Which well-known national company took over the organising of the event? Where does the bridge in the photo lead to [where the building site is!]? CLUE => think ‘Pink Panther’.

Dear Blog,

              I suppose that comments have been here, there and everywhere but because I do not do media … not even a newspaper … I feel free to comment. Despite what the media infer, cycling is not a popular widespread international sport, interest being limited to a few nations only, mostly Europe; how is the spread of velodromes distributed to allow access => very limited. Despite what the media infer, swimming is not a popular international sport, interest being limited to a few nations only, mostly Europe; how is the spread of swimming / diving pools distributed to allow access => very limited. Sailing, yeh, really popular around the Sahara. The point being that athletics, nay running, nay 5000m and 10,000m is truly a worldwide phenomenon. No argument, with a capital ‘N’. We moan about standards in distance events dropping in this country. We dream about times past. We have struggled for  years to win a major gold medal at the Olympics …………….. then suddenly two come along together. SO WHY DOESN’T MO FARAH GET THE CREDIT, THE ACLAIM THAT HE DESERVES FROM THE ESTABLISHMENT. ‘Sir’ if you go for a bike ride with a few others. ‘Sir’ if you go for a paddle with a couple of friends. But for someone who wins a blue ribbon at an event(s) which is truly worldwide, where every nation can boast quality class competitors and a measly gong is awarded. INJUSTICE.

Today was the Godiva ‘5’ mile road race which used to be held on New Year’s Day …. How many other races can boast three Olympians amongst their race marshals????? Me, Dave M. and Bill A. Some boast???

As the year draws to a close, the T.V. will no doubt bang on, as per usual, about world suffering among the third world countries. Water is a premium in very many poverty stricken areas around the globe. Many do have access to water but it is badly contaminated, causing illness and suffering as a result. I wonder if anyone who has not signed the Officials Secrets Act realises that there is a huge stash of portable water purifying back packs secreted away for a time when such equipment is needed by G.B. armed forces. These units were relatively cheap to develop and produce, or so I am told. Of course I could be wrong??? I might also be wrong about them being employed by the SAS in recent on-going conflicts. This kind of equipment would be lifesaving to poor communities across the third world. Well, tough tittie matey boy, you are third world and you don’t have a vote.

One of my presents from Santa was a pair of trackster bottoms to help keep my legs warm while trudging. Very smart they are too. I feel quite embarrassed wearing them, ruining my unkempt appearance which has taken decades to nurture to its present state of perfection. BUT. Why oh why are the producers of such apparel so stingy when it comes to the length of the draw cord supplied? All makers seem to have the same fault. A couple of extra inches (centimetres to you Blog) would make all the difference. An the cost would be of no significance compared to the cost of the purchase price; only a few coppers (only a few new pence to you Blog). Did you know Blog, that each host city for an Olympic Games can introduce a new sport. The new event in the 2016 Olympics in Brazil is “Hunt the Draw Cord”. The different categories are a) the length of chord, b) the number of times the cord disappears up its own sleeve in twenty trudging sessions, c) (part i) the time taken to rethread a draw cord with the use of a safety pin, (part ii) the time taken to rethread a draw cord without the use of a safety pin, d) the number of weeks before frustration forces the purchase of a new much longer replacement cord. Demonstration events will take place in Rio in 2013, and international invitation events will follow in 2014 (the top three threaders from each Olympic Nation will be invited, all expenses paid)

Does any of the above categories strike a chord with you Blog????

                                                Colin

... a festive race or four ...

So that’s it Blog. All over for another year. After all the anticipation, the hype, the expectation, the build-up during the week before, the increasing tension as the day approached, the long wait the night before, the early morning rising for the final preparation …. And then what? ‘… it is the journey, not the arrival …’ as the great philosopher said. So be it. With all the rain, part of the course was flooded and a hastily rearranged substitute route around the park in Warwick and along the High Street was instigated; four laps with, luckily, few pedestrians to witness the suffering! The advantage of the ad hoc course was that supporters could sit in the pub H.Q. and watch the race unfold, it passing the frontage four times; the groupies leaving their vantage point only for the purpose of refilling their glasses. About sixty souls braved the weather this year to complete the annual Christmas Day Run from ‘The Bowling Green’ pub in Warwick sited beneath the imposing walls of the castle. All very informal, no entry fee and no prizes. I have no problem with that Blog. All very pleasant and civilised as was the 10k road race at Newport two days later.

I may have mentioned to you before Blog that the annual Christmas Day Run had a peculiar history. Briefly => It started life, or had its roots, in 1909! Godiva had always had financial difficulties since it’s foundation in 1879. The first fiscal emergency meant the club was nearly still born. Lack of member support for a specific event, ‘a stay out’, in the first months of Godiva’s existence created a significant monetary loss, causing the secretary to hand in his resignation and forcing a serious rethink about how the club was to be financed in future. Things were no better in the early years of the 20^th century when local industrialist, founder of the Triumph bike, motor bike and finally motor car company, Siegfried Bettmann came to the rescue on the condition that the Godiva club membership matched his sponsorship …. Part of his help to the Harriers was the creation of a club winter handicap competition which became known colloquially as ‘the Bettmann’. One of the newly organised handicap races took place on Christmas morning, most members using the popular local innovative transport of cycling to get to the race. By the 1960s, the Christmas morning handicap race was losing its appeal and was abandoned. Long-time member Bernard Carpenter was less than happy with this decision and compensated by organising an informal race in Warwick from the Emscote Tavern. When the Carpenters emigrated to South Africa, local Denis O’Rouke, whose son competed, took on the responsibility of the organisation for a number of years. The race gradually metamorphosed through a variety of incarnations into this year’s race. If the weather necessitated a rearranged course at Warwick, the weather had an impact at Newport for the 10 kilometre event. Driving rain on the motorway journey gave way to a pleasant morning by the time of the race start. The puddles, pools, flooded roads, knee deep streams flowing across the lanes did nothing to help anyone to a personal best. Presumably, because of their lack of experience, the organisers did not cancel the event and several hundred runners of varying ability went for an unscheduled swim around Shropshire. An established club organising such a race, given the prevailing depths of surface water would have cancelled the race on ‘Health and Safety’ grounds!!!! Chip timing enabled the local club officials to give out prizes as finishers crossed the line, including age group winners. I had not seen such a system in operation before; I was impressed Blog.

And so to the Godiva club’s New Year ‘5’, which, as I bemoaned last week, takes place not on January 1^st.

And so to Peak District for the New Year race to take place on New Year’s Day!!?

                         Colin

Ggggggggggggggrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrreeeeeetiinnnggs

Bloody Plebs,

        The estate staff have refused to work for the last seven days so bang goes their Christmas bonus. Their Union has negotiated a week off for Christmas followed by a week off for the New Year without mentioning it to me. Therefore I have spent the last eight days digging out the drive way down to the Lane, barrowing the hard core up to the back of the stable block, filling in the hole in the drive so created with concrete which I have had to hand mix myself, then laying granite blocks for a new surface, while behind the stables I am creating a large area of hard standing built higher than the reach of the bloody floods to keep my automobiles dry. I have had to dig out the footings myself (ref first sentence) lay the concrete and build the retaining wall (again ref first sentence). BUT. I was held up doing the footings (flood water to a depth of 26 inches – [65 centimetres to you Blog]), I was held up when the first line of bricks (flood water to the depth of 19 inchers [48 centimetres to you Blog]) and the second layer (incomplete as the flood water is now sixteen inches [forty centimetres to you Blog] and rising). Three separate floods in eight days, up and down, up and down, up … well three up and two down with one in abeyance. Back in October if you remember Blog, I told you that the week before the Coventry Half Marathon, a man from the council had been round spraying red paint round the holes in the road surface in the Lane opposite the estate’s main gate; the red spray indicating that the hole required attention from the Council’s Hole Fillers-tarmac section. Back in October, the hole measured about 25 centimetres by 10 centimetres and 15 centimetres deep …. It now measures 3 metres by 75 centimetres and down to the basic hard core with the adjacent drain crumbling into the road drain itself, the whole presenting a major traffic hazard, sited as it is, just before a sharp bend!!!! I assume that when the Power’s That Be at the Council’s see what an efficient job I have done on my drive way without any help from the bloody estate plebs who refused to work for the last seven days, they will ask me to tender for the hole in the road opposite the estate’s gateway. They will be further impressed when they find out that I spent the eight days digging out the drive way down to the Lane, barrowing it all up to the back of the stable block, filling in the hole so created, with concrete I had to mix myself, then laying granite blocks for a new surface, while behind the stables I created a large area of hard standing built higher than the reach of the bloody floods to keep my automobiles dry without help from my employees. They will be even more impressed when I tell them I had to dig out the footings myself (ref first sentence) lay the concrete and build the retaining wall despite being held up doing the footings (flood water to a depth of 26 inches – 69 cm blog), and held up when the first line of bricks disappear under water (flood water to the depth of 19 inchers – 48cm Blog) and the second layer (incomplete as the flood water is now sixteen inches and rising 40 cm Blog). The money I save on the staff bonuses will go towards reducing the overall cost of my tender to the Coucil.

I have to admit Blog, that yesterday I single headedly almost helped the Mayan prediction of the world ending to come true. I put a new battery in my granddaughter’s torch. Unfortunately I put it in the wrong way round. So instead of the torch giving out light it started sucking light in, starting a mini Black Hole in Coventry. Nothing could escape, even gravity. Luckily before any serious damage could be done and I destroyed the world as the Mayan’s predicted, the battery died. Boy was I relieved that I didn’t miss Christmas.

                                                     Colin

Christmas comes but once a year

Well now Blog,

                        I suppose you are like the rest of the lemmings, chasing your own tail with this Christmas business. You have bought all your presents? Personally I desist! I refuse to kowtow to the vested interests of the commercial world. I do NOT shop; so you ask, how do I get the presents for my nearest and dearest? Well this year I have adopted a new strategy …. Believe you me Blog this will blow your mind. It is a little late for you or your mates to copy my technique this year, but next year everyone will be at it. And don’t forget Blog, you heard it first from me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So you are desperate to know what this revolutionary answer to the annual drag of buying present actually is. To those to whom you wish to give a Christmas treat you  allowed to choose a number, any number, between 1 and 1764 inclusive. Only one number allowed to each person, changing number is not permitted. When your Christmas list is complete, each name will have its own chosen number. Then you sit yourself down with a couple of pints of your favourite wine and set to work. First you will need an ‘Argos’ catalogue. The number your relation has chosen is the page in the ‘Argos’ catalogue you turn to. On that page, you select the very cheapest item and HEYPRESTO, the present problem is solved. The cheapest item on the page is the Christmas present for the person who selected that page number. And the clever bit, Blog, is that you cannot be blame for the present as you simply point out to that ungrateful relative that the present was personally selected by them. And if those ungrateful relatives don’t believe you, you simply show them their personal page!!! SIMPLE!!!

Here are the presents for my relatives which they selected.

Granddaughter Age 9: Page chosen 1030-cheapest item Sofa and chair: cost £399.99

Grandson Age 7: Page chosen 445-cheapest item electric hedge trimmer: cost £24.99

Daughter One: Page chosen 1745-cheapest item ‘Argos’ credit card: cost £0.

Daughter Two: She refused to pick a page as she said something about my marbles. So her present won’t cost me very much.

Son-in-law: Page chosen 238-cheapest item Styling tongs: cost £3.79. You have to laugh … there is more hair on a billiard ball the on my son-in-law’s head!!!

Wife: Page chosen 1749-cheapest item Delivery charges: cost £45 as the item cost less than £300; it cost nothing as there was no item for sale on that page. But, if you look on the bright side, I have 30 days to send her back if I am not satisfied.

If you don’t believe me Blog, check it out for yourself! Blog, would I lie to you????

Next Christmas I think I will use the ‘Wicks’ Catalogue. Then I won’t have to ask anyone to do my Christmas shopping for presents, I can do it myself.

Being raise in God’s Own County, I am too careful to send out Christmas cards. However I have to confess to you Blog that I have asked a dear friend to send a greetings missive on my behalf by means of their e-mail to my very many acquaintances around the world. It is in the format of a PowerPoint. I would send one to you Blog but I cannot figure out how to do it. Any suggestions???

 Next time I will tell you about my best Christmas if I can remember. That is, if I can remember to do it, not if I can remember what my best Christmas was because I can remember that, otherwise I would not have said that ‘next time I will tell you about my best Christmas’. Or something.

                                             Colin

P.S. Knee O.K.

Coventry Half Marathon 2013

Sorry Blog,

       I should have written that the photograph (cf your last letter) from yesterday, was taken of the start of one of Coventry Godiva Harriers’ (ref other letters to you) Bettmann Handicaps (look up Siegfried Bettmann letter and / or Triumph bicycles letter and /or Triumphs motor cycles letter and / or Triumph motor cars letter and / or Triumph cooperative aka England’s first jogging machine letter). Apologies.

      Reference to my letter to you Blog, of October 15^th inst., I mentioned to you that I had trudge around the local lanes which were reminiscent of the back streets of a Mumbai slum with litter strewn here, there and everywhere. The debris had been discarded by the participants in the Coventry half Marathon the day before my trudge. I did observe at the time that the race had been organised by a company on behalf of the council. I also noted that part of the conditions of the permit granted by the athletic authorities to promote a road race on the Queen’s highway was that the course should be left neat and tidy after the event. I said to you Blog, in that letter, that I would repeat my trudge in a day or twos time to check that the course had been tidied, and if the junk had not been removed I would don my yellow marigolds and pick the litter, clear the roads around my estate myself. Well, the organisers failed to fulfil their part of the bargain and a black bin bag of rubbish was collected; the collection consisted entirely of drinks cartons (given out by the organisers to passing athletes running in the Coventry Half Marathon) and gel strips (given out by the organisers to passing athletes running in the Coventry Half Marathon). I hasten to add that I was a little disposed at the time so had to impose on my butler to undertake the task. And a good job he made of it. Well that is not strictly true, as it was the footman … see later in the letter.

       Imagine my surprise today when I spied a little activity at the end of my drive in the Lane. Not wishing to appear nosey but feeling that matters of security are every citizens responsibility, I made my way to the estate gates where a council lorry and a brace of their artisans were loitering. I ascertained that they had been dispatched by their employers to clear the Lane of litter. I laughed heartily and told them that I took a personal interest in clearing the Lanes here, there, and everywhere in Allesley each and every Monday. I gave the impression to the two council workmen johnnies that I did the litter picking myself, which of course, is ludicrous. Under normal circumstances the Butler does the clearing up except when he has one of his bouts of asthma when the footman takes over his role to litter pick. The Butler seems to get his asthma attacks quite regularly on a Monday morning. Something to do with the stress of doing the Sunday roast I suspect. He has to stand in regularly to cook for the family meal as the cook seems to have an awful lot of Sundays off with stress. I suppose it is brought on by being married to the Butler and having the footman for a brother. Anyway I chatted to the workmen. I have never believed in letting class interfere with a good chat. I am not bigoted. They can’t help their upbringing, can they? Anyway they told me they had been detailed to clear the litter in the local Lanes as they had had a complaint from the public about the amount left by the Coventry Half Marathon Race on Sunday! I said I must have missed that. They did not appreciate my humour so I had to explain to them that the Coventry Half Marathon Race and the left litter had been some eight weeks ago. One of the workman said that the message must have just got through to his boss and there had been a misunderstanding. I laughed at his little joke but with hind sight I believe he may have been serious as neither he nor his assistant joined in my mirth. They can’t help their upbringing, can they? I reinforced that they would find no litter and he confirmed this statement was indeed true as they had walked / driven three miles and collected only half a black bin full of rubbish. I made a metal note to praise the footman on his excellent clearing job. I also made a mental note to write to my local councillor to ask the council treasurer to reclaim the day’s wage for two council artisans for clearing up the rubbish that should have collected by the company employed by the council on some day last October. I made a mental note to the treasure that when he sends his claim to the Coventry Half Marathon Race organisers, he also submits a claim on my behalf for the black plastic bag which my Butler had to give to the footman for his litter pick.

Blog, I kid you not … two council artisans did spend today searching in vain for debris left by the Coventry Half Marathon in October (aka last Sunday). I would not lie to you Blog.

                             Colin   

...and the winning nomination is ....

Photograph Quiz.

Photo no. 122:- Easy … which athlete is the Olympic silver medallist? Which of the runners has just had his 95^th birthday? He did tell me yesterday that he was feeling ‘a bit rough’!! Can you name any of the others Blog? What was so special about this newspaper photograph? Which park is this in Coventry, and what sport takes place nowadays where the race start is???  

Dear Blog,

If you look back to my letter to you in October, I mentioned that I had heard the local service from the Cathedral on Radio 4 and that the vicar taking the service had also run the Coventry Half Marathon. Because of the small time gap between the service ending and the race beginning, I flippantly remarked that he must have run to the start in his church robes. As this was unlikely, I concluded that the service was recorded. I was talking to the said vicar today and he did (almost) and it wasn’t. He had to run out of the service as the organ was playing for the conclusion of the Radio 4 programme!!!

Did you watch the ‘Sports Personality of the Year’ on BBC television last night Blog?? Yawn. I certainly didn’t bother. YAWN. And Aunty BBC deciding who the nominations were. Ridiculous. What is it about these self-congratulatory presentation programmes; the desire to be recognised by one’s peers. And that silly opening of the envelope business followed by the pregnant pause. Cheap ‘tele’ in both senses of the word. When I won a race, I never felt the need of congratulations. I was happy enough to know that I had screwed the field; roll on the next training session. Period. I helped a disabled old bloke and his dog to cross a busy road yesterday. I held a bus up in one direction as we slowly crossed, the driver being quite happy to wait. No problem. We held a couple of cars up in the opposite direction. The drivers waited patiently. No agro. No problem. In the world of super sport or of super media, I’d be one of those names in an envelope. Ridiculous.

Oh yes the knee … walking well so a teeny weeny trudge tomorrow???

I was helping my young granddaughter with her maths homework before the weekly family evening meal last night. Ridiculous. The teacher must have given no thought to the questions set. Lack of preparation. And this, at a school infant / junior school which was all but at the top of the National League Tables for the city. And we wonder why youngsters are put off maths. It is so easy to make sums interesting, but it is a lot easier to make it boring.

                                   Colin

Tour de France 2013

Dear Blog,

         I see that my four days in God’s Own County last week has paid handsome dividends. Mid-week it was announced that the Tour de France next year will start in Yorkshire!!! Blog I kid you not. Once I had assured the organisers of the Tour that the Chairman of the Conservative Party, Eric Pickles, was no longer in charge of Bradford Council, they jumped at the chance of starting the race from the industrial West Riding of Yorkshire. And where better than Bradford, you ask Blog? Keighley? The route has not yet been finalised but a spin through the hills around Haworth followed by a few climbs in the Sheffield area on the first day and a time trial around York on the second, should set the field up nicely for their annual three weeks of slog, Blog, around rural France. A few Yorkshire puddings with a bit of tripe soaked in vinegar followed by a bowl of chips in tomato soup, and Yorkshire rhubarb and custard to round up their breakfast before the first days racing, should see them all going well.

Did you hear the said Eric Pickles on the radio last week Blog? Interesting. Very noncommittal about his past life in Keighley, Yorkshire, most unlike the quotes he is supposed to have said in the past about his schooling and upbringing. Well worth a delve into the archives to find what his comments were? I say no more.

So the Sportsman of the Year will be taking place as usual tomorrow. Interesting to see that the BBC has sanitised the personalities down to a dozen nominations rather than allowing an open house as in the years past. Perhaps part of their financial cuts is to save money on the number of envelopes used? It seems the trend now that the public can be told what their options are by all in authority. Any authority. Every authority. What we need is a Celtic Spring to cleanse the latter-day Aegean Stable. Now that is really clever Blog, a triple meaning for you to untangle while watching the Sports Personality programme on the BBC which I have to confess Blog, I will be missing. BORING. BORING.

And so to my knee ….. gradually built up the walking mileage with decreasing pain during this week. A little jog here and a little jog there, but to trudge or not to trudge, that is the question. Aim is to compete in the annual Christmas Day run on Christmas morning in Warwick. The race has an interesting history. Very briefly and lacking detail => Since 1909 there was a Bettmann handicap (see my previous letters to you Blog about Bettmann) race on Christmas Day until the mid-sixties when the attraction for club members began to fade and was finally abandoned. One of the club runners who lived in Warwick was a little upset at this outcome, and as a result, he organised a race between local athletes and drinkers at a local pub, all very informal. When he emigrated to South Africa a local and his son took over the reins and did quite a good job. This slowly expanded and then, with their retirement, in the last dozen years it became a more organised affaire by Leamington Cycling and Athletic Club but still not too serious, joggers and club athletes having a blow out around the pavements of Leamington and Warwick.

                                          Colin  

There's nowt as fair as can compare to a summer's day, as thee?

Dearest Blog,

Photo no 121:- My theories as you seem to have offered no ideas yourself; Got to be war time, note the uniforms and the standard of kit, or lack of it. Something of a scrap field. The numbers are consecutive, with a known marathon runners lurking at the back, so the size of the field suggests a long distance race. From the attire it must be late autumn or early spring. The kit you can identify Blog, suggests Birmingham or the Black Country clubs. The Godiva runners was a Frenchman who came over during the evacuation of Dunkirk, a Godiva runner was in the same boat, hence the reason he ended up in and stayed after the war in Coventry! I have scoured the picture books of churches (the design does suggest 1900s Catholic?) in the libraries but have had no success. The church is so designed as to be significant, note the side buildings. The hoarding offers a name but so far, has not helped …. So come on Blog, git coiloil dun likeas tomorrow.

Returned from four days in the champagne air of God’s own County. Much refreshed even if trudgeless. The snow on the hilltop camp site was a couple of inches deep when we arrived and the sub-zero temperatures did very little to thaw the snow by the time we left!! Wasted a day in Grassington at their Dickensian Fayre, read ‘villages dressed in silly costumes flogging a load of Christmas tat to the punters who had forked out 8 quids to park’ (Blog, I kid you not) so they could act like a squashed sardines in the narrow village streets pretending to lap up the Victorian atmosphere. I must assume that those paying £8 to park mun bi fre Lancisire. The Yorkshire folk know where to park, like fer nowt. An it were nobbut local Yorkshire folk takin t’8 quids.

This knee business is now serious Blog, with a capital ‘S’. Couple of days left to complete my rehabilitation theory and then?????? You trudge and you trudge and all those little jobs that need doing around the house are procrastinated (!) for decades. So when a trudgeless day or three is enforced, the slight niggle frees up 25 hours a day to catch up on the years of neglected DIY and what happens … you try to contact three different loved members of the family to help with the DIY / to buy an item needed / to check the price of an item / for a bit of advice / to suggest where you left such and such a tool the last time you were doing a bit of DIY / to tell you where the new coffee jar is kept and so on and so forth. And what do you find. The mobile is switched off / left at home / sealed in a metal cabinet thereby ensuring no reception. You lapse into a Rodin like pose and think about man’s wonderful inventions such as the mobile telephone. Man’s Greatest Invention. Contact anyone anywhere at any time. Man’s Greatest Invention rendered totally useless by having the three female owned mobile telephone switched off / left at home / sealed in a metal cabinet thereby ensuring no reception. Second Rodin thought …. What is the bleeding point of having a mobile telephone? Four pennies (the ‘d’ type) did the trick better, from what I can remember. At least button ‘B’ gave some feeling of a satisfactory return on the initial investment? (Ask your granddad about that Blog)

So Blog, I shall now beat the Christmas postal rush by hobbling to the pillar box to post this small missive to you, hobbling back home and then I shall jump on the rowing machine to row furiously to nowhere followed by a few miles peddling furiously to nowhere on the static bicycle. The tantalising question is, by rowing and cycling to nowhere is my daily mileage zero? Ditto when I start on the treadmill? I shall have to ask Rodin in a couple of hours. I don’t want to disturb him just now as he looks as if he is deep in thought.

                                  Seethe Colin

Mr Justice Leveson Enquiry

Cracked where that church is yet Blog? An imposing building that one of your many acquaintances must be familiar with? Gotta be in the West Midlands somewhere?

So Blog, That nice Mr Cameroon and his party friends are going to poop Mr Leveson and not invite him to the big do. Mr Leveson has taken care of the slights suffered by the great and good at the hands of the press barons, but what he didn’t address, was the petty slights suffered by Joe Public at the hands of the local rag on a daily basis. The groups of residents appearing in one of those silly posed photographs which the local paper is fond of printing to highlight  some local grievance or other, have only themselves to blame if they look stupid. I appeared in the two local papers last year in a farcical pose when I was raising money for the two charities for disable children, Newlife and Tiny Tims Children’s Centre. I swallowed my pride and accepted that the indignity for the sake of the possibility of raising a few more quids.

A couple of examples of silliness that Leveson, or the result of Leveson, or that nice Mr Cameroon’s version of Leveson will not address:-

An article appeared three weeks ago in the local paper about the celebrations of an old gentleman and his family on his 100^th birthday. He was a member of the Demon Cycling Club. The club, or rather the Harrier section of the club,  impinged on the activities of Godiva Harriers in the 30s. As normal practice in these cases when I want information for my super tome, ‘The History of Coventry Godiva Harriers and Other Athletic Clubs in Coventry’, I write a letter of introduction plus argued reasons and justification for my enquiry, which I forward to the party concerned via a trusted intermediary so as not to cause offence or upset; the onus then is placed on the recipient as to whether they want to proceed with my enquiry or not. In this case, the reporter was the obvious middleman to contact. What reply was forthcoming from the local rag? ‘The reporter concerned was on holiday and by the time she got back, she will have forgotten her contacts. Publishing a letter would be better’ I pointed out that letters never or hardly ever, elicited relevant information, and anyway, this was a specific enquiry to the daughter of the centenarian, and not a general appeal to the public for information. I would not be writing such a letter and would not be pursuing the matter further. Thank you very much. End of matter? Joke. A week later, a letter purporting to be from me vie e-mail was published at some length in the letters page of the local paper. So much for press integrity. And my redress?

Not long ago, the same newspaper published a photo of mine, sent in some time before to augment, a race report. The photo was published without my permission and without acknowledgement. Complaint, brought no reply. And my redress?

Three weeks ago, in ‘Athletics Weekly’ a similar situation arose, when a photograph of my daughters was used by the publication without due acknowledgement or credit, to supplement an article about cross country leagues. Complaint, brought no apology nor any reply from the athletics magazine. And my redress? Contrast to the appeal from the same publication to me, three weeks earlier to supply information to them about the groundswell of feeling about the unilateral cancellation by the English Governing body of the National Road Relay Races because of an e-coli outbreak. The magazine had read one of my letters to you Blog, or so they informed me!!! Can you believe that Blog. Would I lie to you? I did not supply the information requested, because our correspondence is private and I could not contact you for your agreement. And why did you tell them anyway???? I am a bit upset about that, you know. A couple of weeks before the editor had gone on a rant in his editorial about an unnamed athlete who had refused to kowtow to him to give an interview post-Olympic Games. I don’t know who it was who had the temerity to put the editor’s nose out of joint. One thing is for sure, that the dummy throwing incident will be harboured for some time, and then the full force of retaliation will be unleashed. And when the athlete is castigated, what will be his/her redress? If that nice Mr Cameroon gets himself sorted, he/she should be O.K.. But don’t hold your breath Blog!

A far more serious incident for me happened some forty years ago, when I had organised a trust fund for myself when trust funds did not exist in the puritanical world of amateur athletics. The local reporter got wind of what was happening, contacted Arthur Gold at the AAA and wrote an extended article about me losing my amateur status for my actions, being banned etc., etc., etc.. I had to phone the AAA and gently point out, that if such action was taken against me, I might have nothing to lose by explaining to anyone who might be interested in listening about what might be happening within our sport and which individuals might or might not be implicated. Did I mention quids or drugs? The AAA shut the local press up, but a certain amount of damage had been done with regards to my sponsorship. Luckily, I had Sir Jack Scamp fighting my corner and all turned out fine. But what was my redress?

Revenge was taken by the same reporter when a vitriolic piece was published some time later about how uncooperative I was with the local press, when in contrast, I expected others to cooperate with me in my duties as editor of our monthly Godiva Harrier Club magazine. A bit trivial of him trying to compare a club magazine with a circulation of 150 (?) to that of a local newspaper. The AAA must have really upset him for him to try to exact his revenge in such a way?  

It is nice to know that Randolph Hearst is alive and well and administering the fourth estate with due diligence.

Have to go for a semi trudge now Blog, up to the local garage to buy the local newspaper.

                                   Colin

Housemaids knee

Photograph Quiz:

Photo no 121:- I know I like to have my little tease with you Blog and I will give you some answers to all those intelligent quiz questions I have set you over the last two years if you are interested. But this one is a quiz with no answer, or at least, I don’t know the answer and I want your help to find it. First, the bit I know. Who is the Godiva athlete in the photo? And now the bit I don’t know. When was it taken (I guess during the war) and WHERE was it taken? And WHAT was the race. (I have ideas about this … look at the sequence of numbers being worn, look at the kit, look at how many are in the race) I promise to give you my theories next week, unless you crack it before then, Blog.

Dear Blog,

                  Since Sunday I have been trying to send to you a Christmas card but, as E.P. sang on his E.P., the letter keeps coming back! I feel I have to blame Ossie and his Tuesday Bugit cuts. I will try to solve my problermo and get it through to you as it is quite amusing … Believe it or not, I received it in error from Finland about four years ago. OK so I am drivelling …. All I will say is that you will understand if I crack the mail issue, if I don’t, you won’t!!

               My knee now allows me to walk … slowly …. with a limp. Considering how serious it was at first, I am quite pleased with the progress made. Here is a tip for you Blog, not one that anyone will approve of, but one I feel has a great deal of merit. Injuries in athletics …what to do about them? The usual recourse is to either medical assistance, or these days, to a ‘physio’. I use inverted commas because, the ‘physio’ is usually the term used by athletes to refer to a sports masseur, many of whom have no direct experience of athletics!!! Let me declare an interest before I continue. I have a qualification in Sports Massage; I also have a qualification in Sports Injuries. Blog, I kid you not, I am being serious with a capital ‘S’. I also have a coaching qualification. [So I too have a few badges on my arm, but they have been there that long that they are now tatty and fades beyond recognition!!]. I also feel qualified, therefore to criticise in this area. Qualifications apart, what I have found most useful over many years with athletic injuries is quite simple. I now digress for a moment. Many moons ago, I was lucky enough to be accepted at the Pink Panther University to do a few sums; I found myself in possession of a bursary and grant. Coming from my social background, for the first time in my 18 years on Earth, I was free to dispose of many quids just as I felt. I could buy books … not sum books, but books I felt I had to read. One of my friends at said higher education institute was studying something to do with psychology cum physiology cum whatever. Some of this involved references to current work being done in different parts of the world. One paper I purchased from the long list of references she had been given was about work done by some Doctor (Medic plus PhD) in America who was also interested in track athletics. (Digression fading) His work had been lambasted by peer group review, but I felt it had some merit and have used his ideas ever since whenever I have ben injured … as now. Put simply, what you must do for rehabilitation, is to work the injury within the range of pain to excess, thereby forcing the body to over compensate (Selye’s Stress Adaptation Syndrome again! cf my previous letters to you!). By excess, I do mean excess. All day, every day. (Digression gone) I don’t know, but reading between the lines, it must be similar to the approach adopted by Paula Radcliffe before Beijing? All day, every day, to excess, exercise within the limits of any feeling of pain. Next time you are injured Blog, try it. Especially if it is a repeat injury, compare recovery times. Nothing to lose. Not even quids! And don’t forget that you heard it first here, Blog!!

I will write you tomorrow Blog about Leveson and the newspapers. If this letter doesn’t come back!!

                                        Colin

Midland Women's Cross Country League, Burbage Common, December 1st 2012

Photographic Quiz:

Photo no. 120:- What year was this photo taken of the start of the Coventry Godiva New Year ‘5’ when the New Years Race was held on New Years Day?

Dear Blog,

That was quick, what did you do to get your message to me so quickly… I am surprised the postman delivered mine so fast so the reply was amazingly speedy. Did you use carrier pigeon? Unlike Santa or the other Bletchley one, it didn’t get stuck in the chimney!!! Brilliant suggestion of yours Blog. Today was the Women’s Midland League at Burbage Common, Hinckley, so I thought I would try your suggestion out on the few runners I knew (The men from Division 3 of the Birmingham and District Cross Country League were also using the same course, men 3 laps, women 2; Ladies running first) So I said to the first person, “What do you think about calling the ‘New Year 5’, ‘Not the New Year 5’ instead.” “Oh have you changed the distance then” and the second person added “I liked a ‘5’, what a shame.” I explained the date was the change, not the distance. “Don’t geddit”. And the same conversation was repeated with two others before I abandoned my foray in to being a pollster! So Blog, your suggestion was a little less than brilliant … crap in fact? If the Godiva New Year ‘5’ had been changed to December 31st, it could have been renamed ‘The Old Year 5’? But it wasn’t so it isn’t.

As I said, the Midland Women’s League was held at Hinckley today over a very soggy Common. And the big breaking news is that the League Officials are getting bang up to date in the twentieth century but issuing numbers that the athletes must keep for future fixtures! Not thin cardboard mind you, but made of a plastic material, trimmed down from some other event with the sponsor logos cut off. By the time China lands on Mars and the European Space Commission has Lunar Colony, the Midland Women’s League will be able to use NASA’s discarded computer hardware to introduce chip timing into races. Now there’s a thought to grapple with! Roll on the twenty second century, I can hardly wait.

Although Hinckley now appears to be something of a sleepy backwater, there was a time about a hundred and ten years ago when it was at the fore front of athletic promotion. Prizes for their September meeting for athletics and cycling were outstanding; drew entries from around the country. Even in the 1950s, a ‘little financial incentive was sprayed around to even the most average competitor’ one recent interviewee for my ‘Godiva History’ told me (within the last six months). He added that the good class athlete could expect first class travel and accommodation for two days, plus ‘an envelope’ for his trouble. About a year ago I picked up a solid silver valuable vase for a third placed steeplechase position presented at one of Hinckley Sports, so what the first two got, beggars belief. [It only cost a couple of quids because the seller didn’t realise what was being sold. I did!] The good old days of amateurism! The poor souls today, sucked into the UKA measly support scheme, signing away their birth right for a pittance, have to be pitied. The athletes should get themselves organised Union wise??? Part of the Sports’ malaise, I am afraid. Our Olympic Legacy is quickly being devalued.

                                 Colin       

'New Year 5', Coventry 2013 or 2012?

Dear Blog,

           Do you ever think that you are the only person in the universe who appreciates the subtleties of life? You feel that somehow no one else sees the point. You wonder why they ‘don’t get it’. And of course, then that little bit of doubt starts to creep in. Is it me or is it them? The doubt grows. If I am the only one to realise the finesse of my own brilliance, then I am wrong. No I am not. It’s them Blog. It has to be. Just has to be!!! No doubt.

Consider a case in point. For a number of years I organised a series of running races, up to 4 each year. I liked to try to make each race a little different so that the runners felt that they had taken part in a well organised race, an enjoyable event for a cheap entry fee, and a finishing award which would be of some use, not just some tacky medal! I tried to get courses which were interesting or a date which had some significance; take for example, one 5 mile race which I instigated. It was organised on New Year’s Day, so I thought it might be appropriate to call it simply ‘The New Year Five’. I might be wrong, but I thought … New start to the New Year, New as it was a newly organised race on the calendar, Five because that reflected the distance ran; five miles. Something different to do on New Years Day; great start to the year if you want a serious race to begin a serious year; great start [in a different sense] to the New Year if you felt somewhat hung over. A different interpretation to the event to suit every taste, something for each individual. But the one I didn’t think of ………………  => A couple of years ago, when I decided to cease organising races, those that took over from me, decided to do things differently. OK. No problem with that. A new broom, as they say. But to have the ‘New Year 5’ on December 30^th? Or January 2^nd? To have ‘The New Year 5’ on any day but New Years Day seems to lose something in the translation? I thought the whole point of a New Years Day race was to have it on New Years Day, the clue being in the title? But I could be wrong? Let’s have Christmas Day tomorrow, or Easter yesterday? Probably the entire world is just taking the piss out of me? That’s alright I have very broad shoulders. So Blog, I feel that I am the only person in the universe who appreciates the subtleties of life. I feel that somehow no one else sees the point. Am I sad or am I sad?

So its me and you Blog. Sorry, that should be ‘it’s you and I Blog’.

                           Colin

This little birdie went to market, this little birdie became roast beef!

Photograph Quiz:

Photo no 116:- First a clue … this is a photograph of Alma Street, Coventry taken in 1908. Now => What were the rooms on the top floor of the houses on the right, nearest the camera, originally used for? In 1908, one of Godiva’s runners returned to the club and lived with his family in the fourth house along the street. What was the family surname? Which club had he just left? Which relative, who lived with the family, was a National Champion? What did the family use the top floor for? That is, what conversion did they do? What academic institution now occupies the site?

And for you blog, here it is ….. how have you contained yourself? … another poem by Colin

When a runner named Colin came last,

He conceded his racing was past.

So at his advanced age,

He went on the stage,

And found his life’s role had been cast.

Now is that not clever Blog, or is that not clever????

My knee is chronic,

So, another poem by Colin, Blog you do not know how lucky you are ….

I hate the effing Budgie,

I blame it for my knee.

Catch it, pluck it,

Stuff it, cook it,

Serve it for my tea.

A tasty little toothful but,

Not enough to fill my gut,

At least the carpet’s clean once more

No effing bird shit on the floor.

I am told by a little birdie (not that fecking Budgerigar) that you have gone into print again and are at present sending your Gestetner copies around the UK, to the U.S of A, Albania, Australia, Austria, Botswana, Brazil, Bulgaria, Cambodia, Canada, China, Columbia, Czech Republic, Denmark, Estonia, Germany, Greece, India, Indonesia, Ireland, Italy, Japan, Jordan, Latvia, Malaysia, Netherlands, New Zealand, Norway, Philippines, Poland, Russia, Singapore, Slovenia, South Korea, South Africa, Spain, Sweden, Switzerland, Tunisia, Turkey, Uganda, and Ukraine. Is it true that most of them get in touch on a very regular basis? I am both surprised and impressed, Blog, I kid you not.   

I hope I haven’t missed anyone out, let me know if I have, please, because the little birdie who told me was twittering along so fast it was almost incoherent. If you were to get in touch with your mate in North Korea again, I would be impressed. Do you translate what you send or do they all understand? Some bits must be complicated because when I write to me I don’t understand what I have written half the time and I have to ask my Butler to explain; he’s Double Dutch you know, his mum and dad both come from Amsterdam, you know … and do you know what Blog, I missed winning a boat there by half a second when I ran in their marathon. Blog I kid you not … would I lie to you? If I’d have won it, I could have claimed a refund on my return air fare back from the air line, so I was gutted. But looking on the bright side of life, dum, diddum, di, diddum, dedum I might have had a few problems tacking my way up the M1 motorway in my newly acquired boat, sailing close to the wind against the flow of traffic? I must confess to you Blog that I don’t understand what your friends see in you as I find you a bit of a bore. Correction, for ‘bit’ read ‘complete’. Still each to his own, I suppose.

It must be costing you a fortune in stamps. Has that nice Mr Cameroon given you a rise in your pension? Or has Bill Ague given you a grant to foster foreign relationships??? Trust a Man from God’s Own County to come up with the quids.

At least I can steam off the stamp I get on my occasional letter so I can write to you. Am I jealous or am I jealous of your popularity???

Today’s milage: Zero, again, again again. I did walk from the bus, past the Cathedral and University to the Studies Centre ….350 metres??? Time taken 13 minutes!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Blog I kid you not.

                                Colin                              

 

Knees up one two three...............

Dear Blog,

     Thanks for the card …. I am hobbling about on crutches!!!!!!!!!! Blog, I kid you not. My knee is killing me. The cause?? Well I have a theory and I have a theory. As I said in my last letter to you, my knee just gave way on me yesterday without warning.

Theory One:- I have just spent the last week birdie sitting, looking after the grand kids budgie while their house was decorated. They thought the smell of the paint would get on the budgerigar’s chest and cause him breathing difficulties. Stupid twits! If I get my hands on it, I’ll cause it breathing difficulties. The thing just sat there on his swing or sat making eyes at himself in his mirror, stupid bird. Or making a bloody row while I was trying to concentrate on the television programmes, twittering away. I’ll teach it to twitter. Anyway, as per instructions, I let the thing out for a fly round the living room and all it did was shit on the carpet as it dive bombed the curtains. I reckon I might have done my knee by chasing the bloody thing around the  room carrying its cage in a vain attempt to catch it. God knows what the stupid thing was thinking but carrying the cage to get it back in seemed pretty obvious to me. But the bird had no idea what I was trying to do. Stupid bird. I had to stand on the sofa to hold the cage up high enough up to the curtains to catch the thing. I reckon, the wobbling about on the cushions have caused the strain. So if ever I get my hands on that feather thing again, it won’t be chicken casserole for evening meal!!!!!

Theory Two:- Theory Two is the same as Theory One.

Mileage trudged today:- A great big fat ZERO.

                                Colin      

Coombe '8' result 25th November 2012 (Sphinx AC)

Blog,

        Sunday 25^th November:-  Coombe ‘8’ start time 10am; both daughters will be running. I promised to give out some race flyers for the Godiva New Year ‘5’ mile road race before the race started, then I planned to trudge around the park land cheering on my daughters in particular and all the other competitors except for those flouting the UKA ruling about wearing ear pieces. They want sorting.

      1am – 9 hours to gun off ….. woke up by the sound of rushing water. Rain teaming down and slamming against the bedroom window by the high wind. In view of the flooding of three days ago, I get up fearful of a repeat.

       1:15am – 8.75 to start time. Switch security light to driveway and the Lane. Water gushing from the fields and Lane, down the drive way into the vegetable garden. Water backed up on the lawned areas of my vast acres, about two inches and rises. Put on protective clothing and wade out across the drive to the end by the garage. Smash the retaining bricks to release the pressure build up on the drive and let very many gallons pour unfettered towards the River Sherbourne which borders the estate. Levels on the drive way drop noticeably.

       2:00am – 8 hours to race start. Levels back up to pre demolition levels and rising. Back outside building baffle walls across the drive to stop water surges once our 4 by 4 friends start their aqua-planeing prowess, when they have had their cornies and coffee.

      3:00am – 7 hours to Coombe ‘8’ at which it now looks as if I will not be distributing race flyers for Godiva’s  New Years ‘5’ unless I can think of someone with a 4 by 4 who might drive by my estate and winch me up. Make plans to save the garage from flooding, about 2” of breathing space left. Feet freezing from the flood water.

       3:30am – 6.5 hours to the off road event which now might be cancelled if conditions are as bad on the other side of Coventry as they are here. Water in garden about 2 feet deep in places, 6 inch plus of flow down the drive. Brilliant flood protection for double garage put in place … must patent that idea, so brilliantly simple … why has no one thought of it before????

      4:00am – 360 minutes remaining.  Water no longer rising and rain stops AT LAST. Get some kip in the chair.

      5:00am – check the water levels. Stable. More kip.

      6:00am – 4 hours left but who is bothered, I am too tired. Water starting to drop.

      7:00am – 3 hour until the runners are assembled and there is a possibility of us wading down the Lane to get a lift to the race if we all take dry socks and a chance of footwear!!!

      8:00am – I can see the drive way, and by quarter past, rain water is no longer flowing!! I clear the drive way of my obstructions including a few logs washed down the Lane by the torrent.

      8:30am – If I can get up a degree of speed down the drive from the garage, and don’t have to stop, there is a chance of getting through the flood water as there is now only 3 inches of flowing water in  the Lane with the drive total clear of water. Having been jet washed, it looks quite attractive. Fuss, what fuss?

      8:45am – with a little over the hour to the commencement of athletic activity, I can see tarmac on the Lane.

      9:00am – Depart from the Estate, and with a bit of fancy driving and the almost total absence of traffic on the city roads, turn into the country Park with 30 minutes to spare. Daughter goes for her number, other daughter already there. Wife goes to find the baby she has promised to baby sit while the baby’s parents both compete. I get flyers for Godiva’s New Year ‘5’ so I can get them dished out behind windscreen wipers so I can then trudge round watching the proceedings. Walk towards the first car and!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Do you believe in Devine retribution Blog? The Fates exacting revenge for some deed committed in the innocence of youth? Bang!!!! Whallop!!!!!!!!!! No warning sign. No twinge. Just Bang!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Whallop!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My knee gave way. Locked. The pain Blog, I kid you not was excruciated. A real man pain. A proper case of male agony. Blog I kid you not. Couldn’t walk. Shuffle, hobble. Had to sit on a stump.

Total Trudge. ZERO with a capital ‘Z’. Amount of race seen? Missed the start. Missed the first lap. Hobbled to second lap and where the race finished.

Now sat here, writing to you, Blog, leg on stool, IN AGONY.

One sad fact I observed about the race today was to see some club members not wearing their club vest when they ran. Godiva members should be immensely proud of their distinctive vest. Which other athletics club has a badge as unique as ours? Forgive the use of ‘unique’ in such a sentence Blog … if it is unique, it is unique. And our badge is unique. Period. Every Saturday, during the winter, football supporters spend many quids buying replica shirts to identify with their team. Why are athletes so reticent to proclaim their allegiance?? At the winter cross country races, there is a sparcity of club sweat shirts, tracksuits, hats, and regalia of any kind. Club identification is almost completely lacking, no tribalism in our sport thank you very much!! Not only Godiva.

Question:- Are you proud to race in a Coventry Godiva Harrier club vest? O.K., in an official club competition, League, County etc., you are obliged so to do. But in open competition??? So many times I wonder why runners are not proud enough to don the yellow and red (gold and claret for Ladies) of Godiva preferring some other apparel. Occasions arise when obligation demand that a particular vest other than Godiva’s has to be worn. However, the non- wearing of club colours cuts across athletics ability. Not only do some of the less fast athletes turn out in non-club colours, sometimes citing that they feel they are letting the club down by finishing so low down in a race but no such excuse can be offered by a club international who consistently did not wear his club vest in races.(Ref * below) Invitation and international never saw a Godiva vest, being paraded in front of the world’s photographers. Do such athletes exist in all other clubs?  

Let me cite a very praise worthy example of a Godiva club member who went that extra mile (no pun intended! ) to wear a club vest when he could have chosen to wear his Commonwealth colours, his International cross country vest, his sponsors’ strip or some other commercial outfit, probably doing himself a financial favour in the process? A few years ago, Glyn Tromans was not selected by the county officials to represent Warwickshire in the Inter Counties Cross Country Championships. Because the race was the Trial Race to be used for selection for the International Cross Country Championships later in the season, Glyn was given a wild card to compete. Inter Counties, big important race, televised coverage, athletic press and photographers in attendance; so what did Glyn chose to wear from all the options open to him????? He chose to wear his Coventry Godiva Harriers club vest … which he carried with pride to break the tape in first position!!!

A similar preference for club colours has also been shown on occasions by Olympian Marlon Devonish when again the option of a Games’ or a sponsor’s vest could have been chosen.

Be it Park Run, Fun Run or The Great North Run, Go Godiva!!!! So wear your Godiva vest with pride is the clarion call!

Ref*above:- I never wore a club vest for the best part of half a year plus. Why? One spring, I attended a Harriers Section AGM in the days when the club was split into sections, historically for administrative reasons. In ‘any other business’ as a direct result of the Ladies Section changing their strip from red and yellow to what erroneously they had been told were the original club colours, the men followed suit. I contacted my sponsors and had a couple of vests run up (no pun intended!) and a couple of mesh type vests in the new scheme of claret and gold for racing in the summer. For the best part of a year, I was consistently ribbed about my new vest. OK …. It gives someone else a rest from the micky taking. I have broad shoulders. I put the barbed comments down to the club being rather slow in ordering and selling the new kit as well as the lads being reluctant to shell out a few quid on a new vest when their old coloured vests were perfectly serviceable. On one particular occasion in an open road race in which I particularly wanted to do well, a club official who was acting in some capacity on the start line, made a facetious remark about my vest. At the start of a race is not the best time to enter into pleasantries with me [ever] and I retorted rather rudely. After the race, I sorted him out to apologise for over reacting about his jibes about my vest colours and asked him just what the problem was. It transpired that at the Club AGM (which I had not attended) following a couple of weeks after the Harriers AGM, the men’s motion for a colour change had been thrown out in favour of retaining the use of the old colours of red and yellow.  I very rarely went down to the club in those days, so unbeknown to me I had, in all innocence, being wearing alien kit for over six months !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Got to stop now Blog as I need to hobble to the fridge to get some more ice for my knee, the last lot has melted and made a rather large stain on my new carpet. Blog I kid you not. Must try to keep awake for my tea after such an early start ……

                                 Colin

They tweet him here, they twit him there

They tweet him here, they twit him there

His quills are proud, and always fair.

I will make or break them though they’ve got to try their best,
Cause both are dedicated to follow my passion.

Hello Blog,

       I’m Colin’s grand kids’ budgerigar. Nice to be in contact with you. I have heard Colin’s wife drone on about you, how Colin thinks more about you than he does about her. I think she is jealous of you Blog.

      The grand parents are supposed to be looking after me for the week while their daughter has the decorators in. I think they think that the smell of the paint will get on my chest and take the shine off my feathers. That silly old bugger is out trudging again so I have to look a bit smart with my communication!!! You know he is Bonkers? Should have more sense at his age. One of these days the wet nelly is going to really fall over and damage himself big time!! Did you know that he just trudges? The only bit of speed work he gets these days is when he lets me out of my cage and has to chase me around the living room to make me sit on his finger. I wouldn’t mind if he had a proper wash now and again, used a bit of soap or something, then I would perch on his finger quite happily. I keep tweeting to him about personal hygiene but he seems not to understand me. Then when I do perch there, he talks to me in that stupid voice as if I am some dumb animal like that over fed cat he’s got! Why can’t he speak in the King’s English? I am a budgerigar, not a pidgin! He wants to be my friend, he says. What is all the ‘want to be my friend’ business, Blog?

  I have to keep my eye on that cat thing of his. It may be fat and bloated but given half a chance, that feline throwback, would have me for a snack. And another thing, this is supposed to be a week’s holiday for me away from Colin’s grand kids, but what with that silly old sod chasing me round the room and his missus screaming at me when I crap on her precious carpet while trying to escape capture, I’ve just about had enough. I crap because flying round and round in circles in their room with that git chasing me, makes me feel dizzy, and when I get dizzy, I get queasy and when I get queasy it upsets my stomach. So what am I supposed to do when I get the runs? Hold it in with one wing mid flight??? It’s not as if I do a lot. If the old lady let it dry on the carpet, she could just vacuum it up at the same time she vacuums that old burk’s toe nails. Those clippings can be lethal as they shoot across the carpet when he’s clipping away; like exorcet missiles, they are. But she doesn’t say much to him, does she? In fact she doesn’t say anything to him. I have been here five days now and they don’t talk. It’s like living in a bleeding morgue. I tell you. If I didn’t have my mirror and my swing, I would go round the bend. At the moment, my only pleasure in life is to drive them crackers as they try to get me back into my cage after they have cleaned my floor from all the droppings and spilled seed. I love to sit there on top of the curtains and watch as that silly bugger holds my cage up with the door open for me to hop back in. He really struggles with the weight of it, holding it out at arm’s length. I let him struggle for a bit, and when he has got a bit of a sweat on, I’ll jump onto the top of the swinging door. He really thinks I am stupid enough to go back in straight away! Just as he starts to close the door, off I fly to the other side of the room!! I piss myself twittering! And we start the chase all over again.

   I do wish someone would move that iodine block that they have fastened to the side of the cage. I don’t want to get radiation sickness from one of the isotopes, 129 I think is the dodgy one of the 37? I might be wrong?

  They are a bit stingy with the odd bit of fruit, usually the conk of the apple when she has finished gnawing it. I find the pips tend to get stuck in my beak. I pretend that I am choking. You should see them dash over to the cage to see if I am OK. Dead scared I will cock my clogs while they are looking after me … and how would they explain that to their grandkids?? I play it for all its worth.  When I “recover”, it is pathetic to see how relieved they are. Silly creatures. And do you know, while I am combing my feather to look smart, the poor creatures actually believe that I am talking to another budgie in the mirror. Don’t they know that a mirror merely reflects things back? They are stupid. What do they teach them at school nowadays? How on earth they cope with the demands of modern life is beyond me!

  And what is all this cuttle fish nonsense? Why they have left it on my floor, know not I Blog. I am going to trip over the bloody thing if I am not careful. They have just plonked it in the middle of my floor! If there is anything I detest more than that smelly old bloke, it is the smell of fish. Come to think of it Blog, there is not much difference! AND I am a bit brassed off with all the rest of the clutter they are sticking in my cage. This morning they hung a lump of seed in the shape of a bell to my roof! I ask you Blog? What is all that about? All the seed was stuck fast together. Can you imagine how those two old farts would react if I took their potatoes, Yorkshire pudding, carrots, peas and gravy and stuck it all together with araldite and told them to get on with their dinner? They’d soon be spitting false teeth out. Well the glued seed hasn’t done much for my beak, I can tell you!

  When they switch the tele on in the evening, I let them get settled well into the programme, wait until things on the box start to get interesting and I start to sing. Tweet at the top of my voice. Twitter away full blast. Give it full throttle. Boy, does that annoy them. And they won’t move me into another room in case I pick up a chill from the cold air. They are so tight that they only have a fire on in one room; the rest of the house is like a fridge. Tight they are. I know that because I once managed to escape upstairs when the silly old bugger left the room door open when he wanted to go to the toilet while I was out of the cage. I was out for two hours free flying. Great it was; up and down the stairs, in and out of the various rooms with both of the old codgers in pursuit! I only stopped because I was hungry and knackered from the exercise. Yesterday they left the back door open while I was out of the cage flying around. They were so pleased they caught me before I flew off into the garden. Pathetic to see them really. Chuffed to bits they were, at not letting me out by accident. They must be crackers. It is effing cold in the house but it’s a dam sight colder out there in the garden in the chill November air. No way would I leave what warmth there is in their room to fly frozen to the quill. Have they no common sense? I suppose that fat cat of theirs might be just stupid enough to venture out, but I have far more sense, thank you. I’ll tell you what Blog, I will be glad to get back home. They are so boring.  But I have to confess that, while I stayed with them, I thought the grand parents might have done something about this great ring I have got shackled around my ankle. I have not been arrested so why should I be tagged like a common criminal? And why should I be confined to my cage with that silly cloth thrown over at 8:30 each night.  Why the curfew? I believed they were into civil liberties and all that stuff. And also yesterday, he banged on and on about the floods outside. For Duck’s sake, it’s a bit of water. Why the fuss?

  O oh, Got to stop now Blog and do a bit of tweeting as the silly old bloke has just got back from his trudge. Just look at him, anybody would think he was a half decent runner to see the way he carries on. I ask you?

                                           Billy