?

Blog.

When ya gotta go

Ya gotta go

An I gotta go

Now

Seethe

                                                                            Colin               

Where have you bean?

Photograph Quiz:

Photo no 163:- Who is this Godiva athlete Blog? I haven't a clue. All I know is that he live in Dordon, Warwickshire. My problem is that his style of kit seem to pre date the Godiva club vest by quite a few years.... HELP.

Dear Blog,

        I can now trudge around the country lanes and get hay fever directly from the grass verges without trying …  the Council have decided to denude all the verges at the side of the roads and country lanes after leaving them to grow all summer. Cutting them now seems a shame – the lanes look bare so aesthetically a bit of a disappointment – also with the roads sides obscured and vision on corners greatly reduced, the usual fast traffic did show signs of greater care on the narrow lanes, but now we are back up to speed. Once again, trudging becomes a dice with death on some sections of the country lanes …..

     I had the pleasure of watching a kiddies programme on Friday afternoon. It was rather an exciting programme about gardening and plants; it was rather well done. BUT. My enjoyment was spoiled somewhat when they introduced Colin, the bean. Colin, the runner bean. At first I had to smile at how appropriate it was – Colin the runner. How did the producer know I was going to tune in to watch with my grandkids??? I suppose my wife must have forewarned him. Anyway, Colin the runner bean acquitted himself rather well I am pleased to report. The kids thought it quite funny, granddad being a bean. But as I said, my pleasure was cut short when grandma pointed out to the kids that it was not Colin the been in granddad’s case, but Colin the has bean!!! Just wait until she sees that this week’s housekeeping allowance has bean reduced, then we will see who’s the clever cabbage around here.

   I have just spent a week catering for myself – all trudging and cooking. My cook and bottle washer has bean away for several days in Devon. Everything in the vegetable garden has gone crazy, growing at a rate of knots (so sooorry Blog, I have to confess that you have got me there … what is the metric equivalent of knots??? I bet those Johnny Foreigners have not thought of a word?). The beans have gone mad. Runner, broad and dwarf. So it has bean  self-catering been style. You should have seen the been stews I created! Delicious. It was been with every meal. I am thinking of a Recipe Book, “Colin Cooks” or ‘Being in with Beans’.

   Off for a very quiet trudge in the verge less lanes.

                                                            Colin

Mr and Mrs Brock go for walkies

It’s a funny old world sometimes Blog. As I may have told you frequently in the past, I have a tendancy in the summer months to wake up early, mainly I suppose because I have never got into the habit of drawing the bedroom curtains; they are left undrawn, even in the winter. As a consequence, I suspect the first glimmerings of light are enough to rouse me from my slumbers; as a do not often go back to sleep, I get up …... wandering down the Lane litter picking, I never get any strange looks at 4:30 in the morning, because no one is driving up or down the Lane at 4:30 in the morning. The point being, I get up early and am used to it. (Bear with me ……) For a couple of months now, I have been getting holes dug in my extensive network of lawns around my estate. The Head gardner thinks they are caused by rabbits, but my estate is pretty well rabbit proof, and the small cylindrical holes about three inches deep (10 centimetres Blog) don’t look like rabbit excavations. When a bunny wants to dig a hole, then a bunny digs a hole. No messing .. eat your heart out Mr Wimpey.* On my early morning litter pick, not a bunny have I seen. HOWEVER (read on, the excitement is beginning to mount). The security light and alarm went off at 3:15 am this morning. As I was wide awake I got up to see what had been the trigger for the security system to kick in. Out of the window, I saw the hole diggers, contentedly digging away, wholly n oblivious of me. Two of them. Not bothered by the light. Two badgers. I watched them burrowing around for ten minutes. Now, there has been a sett at the bottom of the garden for as many years as I can remember but none of the local plebs has ever seen the residents. The bloke who has the fields full of horses on the next estate down the Lane has a brief recording he made with a light sensitive camera lasting about 0.00003 milli seconds and that is it. Methinks, Yorick, I will skulk down there tonight to his horsey fields and engage him in chit chat and drop the fact that I have seen the badgers. yahoo matey boy. Before my trudge this am., I gave a wonderfully entertaining talk about ‘The History of Coventry Godiva Harriers and Other Clubs in the City over the last 140 years’ and Tiny Tims Children’s Centre, the charity which provides treatment for disable children, will benefit from the cheque the listeners were kind enough to donate. So far every talk I have given has been met by a request for a follow up lecture …… surely they ALL can’t feel that sorry for me??????????? Colin * I have to say I am rather proud of that one Blog, is it not clever or is it clever clever?

Fermat's next to last Theorem

Photograph Quiz:

Photo no. 169:- What is the connection between this sprinter and Coventry’s first World Record Holder? Och aye and while ye are doon in Coventry, ye could be visiting “The History of Coventry Godiva Harriers and other Clubs in the City during the last 140 years” as part of the Heritage Weekend in September.

Dear Blog

       As Fermat would have said to his mates, the Devil is in the detail!!!

Assume aⁿ + bⁿ = cⁿ to be true for all n>0, n=0 *

Then a^n-1 + b^n-1 = c^n-1 is true

                 etc. [a well-known mathematical term used first by the Euclidean Free School of Mathematics in Marathon, a village about 26.3 miles from Athens (42.3km to you Blog) where Priam was asked Helen, the school’s secretary, if she would go out on a date with him to watch the sacking of Troy on the wide vista vision screen at the local multiplex]

so a¹ + b¹ = c¹ is true

and a⁰ + b⁰ = c⁰ is true.

But I can see clearly now that 1 + 1 = 1 is strictly speaking not often the case.

Or to you Blog, 2 don’t not equal 1, not in your actual base 10 type numbers anyways. (ref *: you could go straight to here and miss all the other complex numbers out?)

Sos, if this is not true, the original assumption ain’t not true nohow.

So think again Andy boy, Wile away your time on squaring the circle!!!!

                                             Colin

It's nice toi go wandering. but it's oh so nice to come home .........

Dear Blog,

      I do apologise if I bore you with my little letters to you, but I do enjoy our intercourse with each other. I do not have a lot to look forward to as most people in a face to face situation turn it into a face to back of the neck situation.

      I have just got back from a few days sojourn to the White Horse, not the local pub but your very real life White Horse as in ancient monument White Horse on a hillside in Oxfordshire. We camped at strange camp site about half a mile (800 metres Blog – this conversion is rather tiresome you know!) away. The site was on a farm with four very large fields of many acres (hectares Blog – there I go again) with half a dozen porta loos in each. Given that there were only half a dozen families in residence on the whole farm so to speak, I wonder Why all the space, I wonder Why so many loos? I wonder How does the farmer make it pay? Presumably each weekend the Druids, or whoever it is who worship the chalk horse, turn up in their masses????? Anyways, It has to be the mega con of the century this White Horse thingie. Can you see it from the road? No you can’t. Can you see it when you visit the site? No you can’t! So how do you get a view????? Well I reckon the nearby army bods are running visitor viewing trips judging by the number of khaki unmarked helicopters of very large dimensions that flew overhead while I was camping.  I reckon Phil Hammond at the Ministry of Defence is helping that nice Mr Cameroon solve the UK debt crisis by running a few tourist sightseeing trips to over fly the White Horse on the quiet and not telling Nicholas Cleggleg about it. And I reckon the army charge a few extra quids for a few minutes hovering time, judging by the number of helicopters that come, circle, hover and buzz off from whence they came. I expect that the rate of flybys while I was there, means the National Deficit should be back in the Black by about this time next week if the weather holds up. So it’s well done to that nice Mr Cameroon and all his mates. A public school education has come in useful after all. That’s what charities should be about in my humble opinion, helping those who are better off to be even better off. Reward your mates with a bank or two and sod the plebs. After all what is plebs for if not to help their better be even better?

            I left my wife and daughter to continue their adventures while I return to look after the mansion with a capital ‘M’. Which means a touch of self-catering for me for a week. I am open to offers Blog, if you wish to invite me round to your place to save me from starving, vin rouge optional? No problem, my diary is pretty empty next week. I will even go as far as to say the blanche would be acceptable. My sister recommends that I go down to the super markets ( I don’t do super markets, sis, just as I don’t do mobile phones, or hole in the wall or takeaways or all the eyes paddies including the newspaper of the same name) and buy myself a ‘prick and ping’. She said it is a curry in a plastic bag which you put in the micro wave. I don’t do micro waves sis, just as I don’t do mobile phones or hole in the wall or takeaways or all the eye fones including the newspaper of the same name. I can’t remember whether she said in was a culinary delight or a complete pile of shite? The phone line was a bit crackly coming all the way down from Gods Own Country. I said I might give one a go if the fish and chip shop owner has me thrown out of her chip shop again for loitering – I keep telling her that I’m only after her cheap crispy scraps, her finny haddock doesn’t interest me!

       Any ways, I must stop now as my trudge has made me a touch desperate for my broad bean / touchme ond pea / runner bean / sweet potato mains and my rhubarb and cream followerss. All home produced blog, I kid you not.

                           Seethe, Colin

Hand up the guilty Jobsworth.

So Blog, How many council workmen does it take to dig out a ditch?????

One week ago, in the afternoon, a lorry dropped a container off on the layby down the Lane from my Mansion. The container was to act as an office / mess room for the workmen.

Six days ago, a very large mechanical digger appears down the Lane from my Manse, a lorry with two workmen who put out a set of warning signs, and nearly dinner time, a set of traffic lights with associated control equipment. Lots of noise. Three workmen and a lorry turn up. As a responsible citizen with a long snout, I felt it my duty to find out just what was going on. Digging the ditch out for the length of the Lane to solve the flooding problem, I am told. Waste of time mate … it’s the River Sherbourne ditch that needs digging out. Sorry governor, that river is Seven Trent, ditches is Council, that’s us. Half the road is coned off, traffic in the Lane controlled by the traffic lights (temporary). It is fun watching the farm machinery trying to get through. The delivery lorries have no chance. Workmen no happy about the speeding traffic, especially those that seem not to see the traffic lights (temporary). 

By knocking off time 50 yards (56 metres Blog) of ditch have been dug out and the dredge spread on the road side verge.

Five days ago, portable loo turns up much to the relief of the workmen. Another 20 yards  (22 metres Blog) dug out of the ditch and the dredge spread on the grass verge on the other side of the road, motorists noit happy about having to wait for the mechanical digger to unload the dredge especially as the traffic lights (temporary) are on green for go. But there was no go! By 11ses workman decided it is too dangerous to work with the speeding traffic. Stop work. Afternoon very quiet. No workmen. Tea time, lorry with two men turn up to collect the road sign warning signs and cones.

Four days ago, porta loo is transported away. Traffic lights go to temp somewhere else.

Three days ago, metal container (aka workmen’s mess and office) picked up.

So how much has those 70 yards (75 metres Blog) cost the ratepayers of Coventry????? Don’t blame the workmen, they worked on what they could … the other 430 yards (490 metres Blog) are for another time when the jobsworth has applied for a total road closure to ensure that the working conditions are safe. Jobsworth didn’t quite plan this job very well. The fact that it is a total waste of time in trying to solve the flooding problem is not material to the lack of job evaluation for the project. The fact that jobsworth will not be accountable for the mega cockup of a wasted week of traffic light (temporary), digger, container (aka office) porta loo and five or six workmen, lorry with two men, signs and cones  is criminal misuse of ratepayers money.

So we are unable to answer the question posed at the start of my letter to you Blog, cos it not ain’t not yet finished. One thing for sure Blog, me and my spade could have done it quicker, and cheaper, saving the Coventry ratepayers a pile of quids. And the big question which needs to be answered is  ?how many pairs of trudging shoes could I have bought if the council had paid me to do a bit of the dig-dig?

                          Colin

P.S. When will they be back??????????????????????????????????? Watch this space Blogsie.

National 30km Road Walk Championship and National 50km Road Walk Championship at Coventry, July 27th 2013 Result.

Photograph Quiz:

First question … what Photo number is it???

So .. Photo no. whatever:- Where is this? What is the pub in the centre of the photo called? Why is it important in the History Of Coventry Godiva Harriers?  

Dear Blog,

 Saturday 10:00am: Clubhouse, collect luminous bib, traffic cones and small coloured marker cones.

       Saturday 10:15am: University Road roundabout, mark out centre of road up to race turn at end of cul de sac with small cones, mark out roundabout with large cones, sweep grit as tarmac on raod is beginning to melt already.

            Saturday 11:00am: Put very large cone in centre of road before roundabout, place folding chair ditto to slow any traffic. National 50 kilometre (just over 30 miles Colin) starts. Sun gets really hot.

                  Saturday 11:00am: Field walks down to roundabout for the first time, Spaniard already opened up a gap.

                     Saturday 2:30pm: First of the wobblers suffering from dehydration and too much sun, watch him stagger back towards the start area to ensure he gets to the First Aid safely.

                           Saturday 3:00: Police car arrives with an urgent request to keep a look out for a young autistic lad missing from home since early morning. Concerns.

                                   Saturday 5:15pm: Race cut off point and all those still surviving get to the finish line in time!!

                                          Saturday 5:30pm: Clear up the course and return luminous bib, traffic cones and small coloured marker cones to clubhouse. Young lad found.

Sunday 9:00am: Bugger. Young Athletes’ League at Loughborough.

                                      Colin

Old Godiva runners never die, they just trudge off into the sunset ...............

Dear Blog,

               Ever felt like banging your head against a brick wall . ….. I bore everyone with the fact that I have been researching the History of Coventry Godiva Harriers for the last decade. People purposely avoid me so they don’t get bored with my ramblings and when they do get trapped with no hope of escape, that faraway look. That glazed expression is all to evident. I think I told you that it was only a couple of years ago that my mother happened to mention in passing that my grandfather used to run for Wathe on Dearne. I had run for years, I had run in the Commonwealth Games, I had run in the European Games, I had run in the Olympic Games and no one in the family had ever thought to mention the fact that someone else in the family ran. It wasn’t that my mother was losing her marbles. He had!!! It was true!! And lo and behold today ….. an old lady (93 years old) and her husband (86 years old) whom I have known for forty years and my wife has known for longer, living across the road from them since childhood, just happen to mention that she USED TO RUN FOR GODIVVA!!!!!! She ran before the last war and stopped when she started a family ………….. so Blog, What will I be doing tomorrow??????????????????????????????? It really is enough to make you want to go out for a trudge!!

                                       Colin

Boy oh boy, what a day?

Dear Blog,

              What a twenty four hours that has been. Talk about excitement. Everyone has gone mad. The press have gone overboard, the television channels have gone over the top and the public have simply acted stupid. London has nearly ground to a halt at times. It is not as if the big event of the day is unusual. It happens all the time; all over the world. I suppose it was because the public knew it was going to happen and had been warned repeatedly in advance by the media. And the hype was built up And when it did happen, all the tension was released. Admittedly, the lightning flashes were more spectacular and the thunder claps were more deafening than most summer storms, but to carry on the way the public and media have, is all rather passé. And there wasn’t too much rain. It isn’t as if it lasted a spectacularly long time either; a few hours overnight. And now it is over, anti-climax sets in with nothing much to fill the newspapers or fuel the television sound bites.

I’ll tell you about a storm or two. For some unknown reason, while I was at university, the summer vacation (holiday Blog, holiday) at the Pink Panther University were always longer than any other in the U.K. including Oxbridge. No student ever complained. We came down, as they say, at the end of May and didn’t return until the second week in October, I was fortunate that I was employed during the whole time for four consecutive years by the local authority at the local running track. Now why there was a cinder running track of reasonably good quality in a small West Riding mill town is beyond me. There was no athletics or harrier club in the town. And there hadn’t been for over fifty years. The Boys Grammar school used it for their annual sports, and sometimes the area school sports were held there. There were a couple of evening athletic meetings organised by Bingley Harriers and the occasional Yorkshire Championships. And then there was me. And me. And me again. I was the only person to use it. Blog I kid you not!! Anyway I was employed there every summer which enabled me to run to work in a morning and shower. Train at lunchtime and shower. And run home again at night. Which helped my running no end. Knackered and a whopping mileage!!! I say I was employed at the local running track. Well that was not strictly true. There was me and Dick, who was the permanent grounds man. Just the two of us and we worked well together. Dick was about sixty. We had the track to look after and maintain, marking the lanes out for when it was never used. We had all the events which never took place on the infield to mark out. We had two full size cricket squares to mow. We had eight football pitches to prepare and mark out for the fourth coming season; this included erecting the goal posts. We had six rugby football pitches to prepare and mark out for the fourth coming season; this included erecting the goal posts. We had to mop out and clean twelve changing rooms and two full sets of toilets and urinals. We had the pavilion reception room to clean. We had two cricket pavilions to clean and maintain. Blog, I kid you not. Me and Dick, Dick and me. We did have gang mowers to cut the grass for us! Anyways because I was the first to arrive in a morning [to put the kettle on for any passing gangers who might pop in for a skive and a pot of tea] because I ran to work and because I was the last to leave at night because I ran home, Dick entrusted me with the bunch of keys. A LARGE BUNCH OF METAL KEYS. When I was a kid, I remember that in the hot summer school holidays we used to get thunder and lightning storms which used to last for days. The Worth valley in which the town was built was a ‘V’ shaped cul de sac running up into the Pennine Hills; the heat from the hot summer weather used to funnel the humid air up the valley hill side as the day progressed and presumably when it hit the colder air near the top, it got trapped. The storms used to rumble on and on, days after day. The long lasting storms were just the same when I worked at the track. Dick gave me A LARGE BUNCH OF METAL KEYS to lock up when I left work and I had to carry them home to unlock the track on my arrival following day. My general route home each evening used to take me a couple of miles along the valley bottom alongside the River Aire towards Bingley. For variation I sometimes ran along the canal tow path. I had then to start to climb up and up towards Bingley Altar where the Druids used to hold their services in years gone by, climb higher up to the moorland which was open land with only heather and cotton grass for vegetation. I then had about three miles to cross the plateau with no shelter, exposed to whatever nature chose to throw at me. Then I could drop dramatically down to Ingrow where I lived. Now at the times of the daily storms which tended to peak about five or six o’clock each evening, I was crossing this large expanse of high flat barren land with A LARGE BUNCH OF METAL KEYS in my hand. I can tell you, I was not a happy bunny at all. There was all this lightning day after day, searching for a protuberance on which to make an energetic landfall, and there was me sticking up like a potential lightning conductor with A LARGE BUNCH OF METAL KEYS in my hand as I trudge across the heather. I can tell you I was not a happy bunny with brown shorts for many days each summer!!!

The events covered by the media in the last 24 hours reminded me of this time and my storm experience. I sometimes thought I should make a Will. I am sure that a weather break at evening, winds or calm, would have done me some good in the eyes of our superiors?? (7 across, 4 across and 7 down)?

And then of course there was that other rather big happening of yesterday …… I picked my first fresh peas of the season.

                                                     Colin

It ain't half hot mum.

Photograph Quiz:

Photo no. 161:  Why were Coventry Godiva Harriers worried about this lot in 1910? (An it were nowt to do wi ow much the cud sup.)

So that’s it Blog, School is out for another year. And in years past when I was part of Mr Cameroon’s dad’s dad’s Great British work force, it was up with the mileage and on with the Black plastic bin bags and sweat, sweat, sweat. And then, come along a hot race, it was easi peasi lemons etc.. My hottest race, temperature wise, was a marathon in Southern Germany which I won by about twenty minutes. Blog, I kid you not …. Twenty, two zero, 20 minutes. The marathon involved almost two identical laps and the starting temperature was well into the nineties! The first lap incorporated a half marathon which I totally forgot all about once the gun went. I had come second in an international marathon race six days before and was a bit weary .. so the plan was to set off fast, get rid of the field quickly as I suspected that they would, quite naturally, be worried about the excessively hot temperature, and then I could settle down to an easy run. Forgetting about the half incorporated marathon, I couldn’t understand why runners were sticking to my suicidal pace .. but come five miles (eight kilometres to you Blog) they had all peeled off. Was I relieved or was I relieved. Unfortunately. Because the marathon consisted of those two similar laps, the half marathon runners had consumed all the water on the first lap!!!! Try running half a marathon with no sponge in searing heat, the temperature climbing higher and higher as the race, or procession, unfolded. Needless to say, it was a bit messy when I finished. My muscles would not do as they were told. I was like a sufferer from Saint Vitus Dance with a bad case of the twitches. A very bad case, indeed. Blog, I kid you not. Every time I have had a daily trudge this last ten days and see joggers out there struggling, sweating, I have to smile. “Get your black bin bags on and sweat, sweat, sweat. You know it makes sense!”

                            Colin

t'watters meltin.

By gum lad, its reight hot. Mind thee, its a guden if the can save a few bob. As a sed t’ missus, if that there bloke int ‘Sun’ can cook an egg ont pavement in London, there’s nowt stopping thee doin t’same. A nos that its out o’sun ont back step so tha can use t’front if the mun. She were int middle o doin me bacon reight crisp wen t’postie cums an steps on me egg. No yolk. It wen tall ower place, a reight mess. A nobbut just managed to dip me bread in wot were left. Told him weare to stick is letta an it weren’t in is sack!! Sed to missus, al mun go fer a trudge wile ye mek me a mug o tea as it is tekin a bit o time t'boil. A sed it ud be quiker if t’pot were moved from shade int sun. She sed, aye likus ye right there. A sed a new a wos.A sed al sup it wen a gets back. She sed reighto.

                           Seeethe. 

Mother's little helper, please.

Blog,

     Gay, Powell et al.

     Two points the media may have missed concerning the latest happy pill episode so don’t forget you heard it first here Blog!!! Is someone at last going to square up to the farce we have in athletics concerning the detection, punishment and prevention of drugs in sport??? Are these latest suspects going to pursue the allegations through the courts in an attempt to open the sport up to legalised use of chemicals because the drugs are not illegal in the real world, just in athletics. Years ago before you were born Blog, a respected National Coach suggested we have open (i.e. with drugs) and closed (i.e. non drug takers) sections of the athletics sport so everyone knew precisely what was actually going on and there was no cover up on the part of athletes or administrators. This was also at the time of ‘Shamateurism’ so he had no chance of sparking a sensible debate into the matter. As with the payments of  many quids to athletes, drug use was a case of nod, nod, wink, wink, innuendo and gossip.

      And the other point that may have not been realised by the media, or they might just be playing it cool, is that we are now entering the era where the off spring of proven drugs cheats are entering into senior competition with a high standards of results. Nod, nod. Is there a case of like parent like child waiting in the wings??? And what about the off spring of parents who perhaps performed ‘under the influence’ when drug testing was in its infancy and it might be suggested that positive tests could have been avoided by various subterfuges. A case of collusion might have occurred???

      All the above is good stuff for a novel coming to an amazon near you soon. None of it could be true, of course, because such things don’t happen in real life. If it did, could it all be avoided simply by getting the sport back to competition per sec and forgetting about all the obsessions with times and records??

                           Colin  

Northbrook 10 km July 14th 2013 result .... I'm not a litter picker, I'm a litter dropper's mate!!!

Well now Blog,
                      Today was Northbrook's annual 10 kilomtre with about 300 runners. It was boiling hot, so lots of water stations were needed ... and lots of water stationed means lots and lots of plastic cups discarded all over the road when the runners had had a sup .... and 30 minutes after the race had finished there was not a single cup or other race derititis to be seen. Nowt. All picked up and cleared. All roads around my Mansion, with a capital 'M', spicker and spanner than ever before. SO WELL DONE TO ALL THE MARSHALS. BRILLIANT JOB UNDER TRYING CONDITIONS.
Contrast that with the litter hanging around for weeks and not cleared up by the company employed by the Coventry City Council to organise their half marathon. The roads were left in a disgraceful mess. Perhaps the Council should employ Northbrook for their next half marathion .......... which has been postponed to next March, it has been annouced. So NO half marathon in 2013. SHAME!!!
              Colin

Do U.K.Athletics care about grass roots athletics?????????

So Blog,

It is nearly the Anniversary of the Olympic Games in London

Do you remember the Olympic Heritage?

Olympics plus One.

Saturday 13^th July 2013

League Competition for six teams. Grass roots stuff for youngsters.

Three teams NO qualified officials.

One with one.

To volunteer ‘Have you ever spiked before’

‘Yes’

So that’s O.K. then???????

TOTALLY incompetent.

I presume I should have added the words ‘your lawn’ before the words ‘spiked’ and ‘before’?

…………and will the teams with insufficient officials be in any way penalised?????

Do you remember the Olympic Heritage?

I presume I should have added the words ‘U.K. Athletics’ between the word ‘Heritage’ and the question mark.

Bugger …. I forgot we are talking grass roots athletics here.

Colin.

All in a hot and copper sky, The bloody sun at noon ...........

Photograph Quiz:

Photo no. 160: What is special about this coach. What is the connection between the owner, Peeping Tom and Godiva Harriers?

Dear Blog,

             I see that one of the athletic magazines is running (!) one of these stupid competitions which attempts to involve readers and hopefully sell a few more copies. Complete waste of space but with a quiet period in reporting, something must pad out the excellent value provided by the six extra pages … that is magazine speak for  ‘the price will be going up in a couple of weeks’. This particular space filler invites readers to nominate the ‘greatest athlete ever’. Now I would nominate myself but to win I would have to spend very many quids in postage stamps which would probably be enough to save the postal service from the forthcoming privatisation proposed by that nice Mr Cameroon to get some quids from the plebeians to save our country from going totally broke. Anyway, back to this ‘greatest athlete’ business. All the statistics and achievements of this, that and the other athlete will be trotted out ad nausea no doubt.  And in the end, it will be just one great big yawn to fill magazine space in a quiet period of reporting, something to pad out the excellent value provided by the four extra pages … that is magazine speak for  ‘the price will be going up in three weeks’.

Yesterday morning I heard a voice greeting me as I struggled in the burning sun to control the chest high weeds in the vegetable garden. I had been thinking about the ‘greatest athlete ever’ as I machete my way from the orchard towards the Mansion with a capital ‘M’ for my coffee break when the greeting broke my train of thought. Subliminal or what???? The voice of greeting came from a friend from the running club whom I had not seen for generations. He happened to be cycling past and thought he would pop in. Nice to see him. Auto suggestion or what???? My wife allowed me to stop my contest with the weeds for a chat and a drink. Coincidence or what????? He was several years younger than me but we had much in common to mull over in the hot sun, sat out on my extensive Romanesque patio, stretching as it does all the way to the end. Unconscious linkage of ideas or what????

The ‘greatest athlete ever’ and a voice from the past greeting me in the boiling sun; perhaps the sun was cooking my brain or what?????

When I went to the Olympic Games, I shared a room with Dave Bedford. Bedford was only a young lad of about 22 but a precocious athlete who the following year was to break the 10,000m world record in unfavourable weather. The press were hounding him mercilessly. The team management were hanging him out to dry offering no protection from the constant torment of the media. I could not see how he could survive such harassment and perform on the Munich track. And amid all this tumult and turmoil with which he had to cope, he received a letter. A letter from the mother of a young lad who she said tried very hard with his athletic training but gained little or no reward and suffered frustration after frustration from having little success whilst his team mates were achieving. She was worried about him. She asked Dave if he would be kind enough to scribble a few words of encouragement to the young lad. Dave noted that the letter came from Coventry and mentioned it to me. Surrounded by controversy and getting no peace and quiet from the press, radio and television, it would have been so easy for someone in Bedford’s position to just bin such a letter. Flotsam. Jetsam. Under pressure and expectation of a nation waiting the delivery of a possible gold medal and what did he do? Screw the letter up? He sat down then and there and wrote a letter back addressing it to the young lad concerned.

Now if the magazine wants a truly great athlete ……….

After our drink and chat my young friend got on his bike to complete his ride with the promise that he would pop in to see me again soon.

                                                                      Colin                                                             

Anyone for Tennis?

Bonk.

Dear Blog, bonk.

    3:30pm Sunday afternoon and it’s hot outside and I’m hot. Bonk. I am also tired from my trudge this morning in the broiling sun. Bonk, bonk.

Knock, knock.

Someone at the door, bonk.

My wife is in Corby at the Midland League Meeting. So is my daughter. Bonk.

Dilemma, horns of. I am hot, I am tired. Do I answer it?

Knock, knock.

Man at door. Sweating.

‘Are you interested in buying …’

‘No’. Cannot shut door, he has his AK49 wedged between the door and the frame in the small gap, bonk.

‘Can I interest you in buying a picture …’

‘A picture?’

‘Yes, a photographic picture of your house.’

‘Mansion, with a capital ‘M’.’

‘Sorry. Are you interested in buying a photographic picture of your Mansion with a capital ‘M’.

Is he taking the piss????

Now I may have trudged hard this morning, but I ask myself, why would I want a photographic picture of my own Mansion? Bonk. I live here. Bonk. If I forget what it looks like I can just pop on my coat, pop outside and remind myself, bonk. No big deal there then. Bonk, bonk. If I get really forgetful I could take a photo of the property myself, then I could stay insiode and admire the view. Bonk, bonk.

‘It is a photographic picture of your house, errr sorry, your mansion with a capital ‘M’ taken from the air.’ He is taking the piss.

‘How much?’

‘£55:00’

‘No I said how much for the photographic picture, not the cost of your camera. I have a camera.’

‘£55:00 including the frame’

‘No thanks’

‘I’ll do it for £50:00 and include the Vat.’

‘No thanks’

Just imagine … dial 999. ‘Police please.’ ‘Yes sir what is the problem?’ ‘Sorry to bother you officer, but someone has juct nick my Masion.’ ‘Your mansion, Sir’ ‘Yes my Mansion with a capital ‘M’.’ ‘Oh dear sir, and when did this feloney occur?’ ‘Last night officer, when I was asleep. When I woke up this morning there it was. Gone.’ ‘And could you give me a description of this ‘er Mansion with a capital ‘M’ sir.’ ‘No officer I am sorry but I have forgotten whatr it looks like. But lukily I bought a photographic picture of my Masion with a capital ‘M’ just last wee. It was a shrewed investment for £50;00 including the fame and Vat.’ ‘That is very lucky indeed sir. I shall pop round and see you straight away to collect that photographic picture of your Masion. Luckily that is not much of a second hand market for this sort of thing. People just haven’t got the room to put them these days. We should soon have ity back to you safe and sound, sir. And where shall I find yu’ou to pick up this ‘er picture seeing yuou have got a Mansion with a capital ‘M’ like. In the orchard just up the lane from the village. Yes got that sir, be with you in a jiffy.’

‘No thanks, I don’t want a picture of my Mansion, with a capital ‘M’ whether it is a photographic image, a water colour or done in oils.’

 ‘I’ll do it for £35:00 sir, and look, there you are in the drive way. That little dot in front of the car. Special that. When I fly around taking these photos, I don’t often get the occupant in the shot. Usually I charge extra for that. But to you sir, a flat £35:00. And that is my last offer. It is such a nice frame.’

‘No thanks.’

The sweaty man was almost in tears. Bonk.

'Please buy one. No one will talk to me this afternoon. No one will buy any of my photographic pictures.'

'No thanks.'

When my wife comes home. Bonk.

‘Had a nice peaceful day dear, Bonk.?’ Had any visitors, bonk, bonk?’

‘Yes I had a bloke bonk, trying to sell me an aerial photograph of our little mansion, with a capital ‘M’. Bonk.’

‘Did you buy it?’

‘No bonk. I told him to Bonk off.’

‘How much did he ask?’

‘£35:00 in the end, bonk bonk.’

‘And you didn’t buy it? That’s a bonking shame.’

‘Why, bonk?’

‘It would have hung nicely with the other one I bought twenty years ago. Bonk. I could have hung them together to show how many improvements you haven’t done over the years.’

‘Oh you mean the faded photo hanging in the porch way Bonk. I always wondered where that had come from Bonk, bonk.’

‘Do you know haw Murray got on this afternoon, bonk?’

‘Murray, bonk? Murray who? Bonk, bonk, bonk.’

                                       Colin  

The Coventry Way

Dear Blog,

                It is always pleasant to see the positives of life around us, when we are constantly bombarded by the negatives from the media. Last night I had the pleasure of being invited to collect a cheque on behalf of charity which offers therapy for disabled children, Tiny Tims Children’s Centre. The monies raised for the donation was from ‘Coventry Way Walk’ held earlier this year. The ‘Coventry Way’, the 40 mile footpath which circumnavigates the city of Coventry, using footpaths and bridleways, was devised by Cyril Bean. Each year 250 walkers and some runners take part in the event. The Coventry Way spends the rest of the year maintaining and improving the ‘Walk’. There are now several loop walks of varying distances which utilise different points on the ‘Coventry Way as start / finish points. I find all these useful for trudges, because they are clearly marked routes in a different part of the country which takes no effort to follow, very agreeable running. You should try them for an afternoon out Blog.

The evening took the form of a skittles evening, several teams competing in a friendly manner, a buffet and presentation of cheques to the various charities to benefit from the Coventry Way Association, then another round of skittles. My team came third!!!!

The evening nearly ended in great disappointment however, as in the first round of skittles, my wife who was in the same team as myself, had the timerity to score a higher number of points than I did. When this happened, I had to tell her, buffet or no buffet, cheque or no cheque, if she didn’t let me beat her in the second round, I was off home then and there and she would have to make her own way back to the estate. She wasn't happy about that. I told her I wasn't either, being beaten by myown wife. I told her to remember what the vicar had told her, 'honour and obey' was the deal. So she had better start doing a bit of honouring or I'd be out first thing tomorrow banging on the church door demading my quids back under the terms of the Trades Description Act. After a little sulk, she agreed and I soon cheered up especially as I thrashed her out of sight when it was out team’s turn to skittle again. I feel I bowled rather well the second time, a clean strike on my first attempt but I was unable to capitalise on my other two bowls. My wife was rubbish with a capital ‘R’. I do think she was actually trying rather than letting me win to secure another couple of years being married to me. Anyway, I feel I beat her fair and square so in the end, I did take her back home with me.

                                 Colin

PS I was asked to give another three of my excellent talks about the ‘History of Coventry Godiva Harriers and Other Clubs in the City in the Last 140 Years’ by different groups represented at the skittles evening so that should raise another few quids for a Tiny Tims Children’s Centre.

Olympians

Photograph Quiz:

Photo no. 159: Which athlete is the Olympian and what might his name be?

Dear Blog,

   I have mentioned before that when  a fact appears in the press or is quoted on the radio or relayed on the television it becomes a FACT with a capital ‘F’ whether it is subsequently proved untrue or evidence to the contrary is provided.

  Approaching 2012 with the prospects of public interest in the London Olympic Games growing, both the local newspaper and the local radio station decided to compile lists of local Olympians. You know the sort of stuff Blog. And so it came about. All well and good so far but ….. Despite attempts on my part to correct the omission of a local Olympian on many more than one occasion, my information was ignored and the Olympian never made any local list not nowhere nohow!!! Question for you Blog. If a youngster moves with his parents when he was very young to live in Coventry, was educated in Coventry (Barkers Butts School), took his apprenticeship in the city, worked in several factories after leaving the ‘Morris’ where he qualified as a tool maker, joined a Coventry athletic club and became second claim for another, operated a business in several different locations around the city and continued to provide a service to a local running club until his death when another family member took over the business, would he qualify as a Coventry Olympian. (I won’t say an Olympian from Coventry as many aren’t, including yours truly!!! O.K. he did join Birchfield Harriers and moved outside the city boundary …. all of six miles (10km Blog) from the centre of the city or just over a mile (1600 metres Blog) from the city boundary!!!! But would these last two facts militate against a total exclusion for an inclusion as an Olympian on any official City list, I ask you Blog???

   Another Olympian who joined the same athletic club after his performance on the Elysian Fields of Olympia (excuse that Blog … but it sounds good!!!) was but a memory, has similarly received no recognition or photographic acknowledgement!!!

  Mind you an Olympian at the London Olympic Games of 2012 has fared no better; not doing particularly well at any kind of recognition in the photographic stakes either … perhaps a photograph of said Olympian in the athletic club’s clubhouse might be appropriate??? Just a small token, say?

   Now Blog, keep with my wanderings … contrast the above with another Olympian who joined the same club post-Olympic career.. He makes the picture gallery in the clubhouse and hangs proudly with the other club Olympians. Makes you wonder Blog, doesn’t it????????????????????i

                                                      Colin

Snip, snip, snip.

Dear Blog,

      So what was the big excitement of the week? No it was not that nice Mr Cameroon’s friend Ozzie Osborne giving us all lots and lots of quids to go out and spend. Neither was it all those naughty athletes being caught for having a chemical meal or two … or three. You are close when you say it was my grandson winning the wellie wanging contest at his school sports on Monday, but you would be wrong. Not wrong about him winning ‘cos he did. First place. Blog, I kid you not, the kid dun gud. Gold. The teachers took ages with the drugs test though, but in the end, most of them passed. That was on Monday morning. I had the afternoon to recover from the excitement.

Tuesday was the big day …. Every year about this time, without fail the farmers bring their sheep down off the hills and they get shorn of their fleece. The sheep that is! Well it is the same with me. Every year, without fail at this time of year, I have my hair cut. Sat there little little Miss Tuffet on her buffet, while my years growth tumble to the floor. Slowly the mass of hair grew around me. It always makes me sad, this yearly ritual. A lady jogger from down the Lane runs her scissors through my locks. Blog I kid you not. She has been doing it for the last eight or nine years, regular as clockwork; some people gather at Stonehenge for the summer solstice, I crouch on my stool like a naughty school boy and get my locks shorn . Each to his own, says I.

It all started, this hair cutting lark about a decade ago when I was going somewhere important and I was told I had to look smart, extra smart. So I swallowed my pride and asked this lady jogger who didn’t live down the Lane then, to give me the snip. Or Two. Previous to that, the last time anyone cut my hair was June 3^rd. It was at ‘Browns’. I remember it so well. June 3^rd 1962, Browns the Hairdresser and it cost my ten bob, half a quid! Blog I kid you not. It was traumatic.

Before that my last experience of a barbers was when I was it twelve and starting Grammar School!!!!! You think I am kidding don’t you Blog? Well think again matey boy. Would I lie to you? After my experience at Brown’s, I went straight into town and invested heavily in a pair of thinning scissors which I used myself on myself by with and from myself for the next thirty five years, until the important occasion where I was told I had to look smart. More about that some other time Blog. Perhaps. Perhaps not.

Wednesday was the Coventry year 7 and year 8 athletics finals, so I helped my dear wife open the Godiva Harriers café at the Coventry Track. The Coventry year 7 and year 8 athletic finals were at the Coventry Track. I suspected that I might have been asked to present the trophies with my newly acquired short hair smart appearance but that was not to be. The organisers will regret that decision ion the occasion of their Championships next year when I put up my appearance fees. I have to recoup the hair cutting fee from somewhere; admittedly, the lady from down the Lane is cheap. Really cheap. I don’t think they come much cheaper than her.

Thursday. Tried to put some of my greens out in to the kitchen garden between truydges, but it rained. And it rained on Friday between Trudges …..

                                                       Colin

Colworth Marathon Challange results (part 2) June 21-23 2013

Photograph Quiz:

Photo no. 153:-    Answer =>  Colworth Science Park.

Dear Blog,

            So it was three days in Sharnbrook, or more precisely, Colworth Science Park. Athletic bargain of 2013???? => at a time of spiralling entry fees for running races and Rip Offs by Commercial Promoters with a giv us ye money and have a bag of tat when you’ve finished guv, it is amazing that a small running club like Colworth Striders can provide three races in three days with a full set of awards for each race as well as awards for the three day Challange with free camping for the runners’ family with 24 hour hot showers and changing, a bar-b-q, a bar, kids’ Fun Runs, a huge marquee for prize giving each day, free drinks all weekend both cans and bottles for thirty quids. THIRTY. Three nought. 30. Blog, I kid you not.

Friday night:- about 400 finishers in the 5 mile (8 kilometres Blog) which incorporated the first leg of the Colworth Challenge, a marathon race split into three sections over three days, each leg being a different distance, all off road. Weather hot and sticky, country and path around the Colworth Science Park area. Sound grim but it is acres and acres of country near the small village of Sharnbrook, based on the former RAF Podington air field, used by the USSAF in the last war to fly their B-17 bombers on raids in Europe. First home was Damian Carr of Godiva Harriers. My elder daughter was pleased with her run. Her two kids were at the finish to greet her.

Saturday lunchtime:- the 8 mile trail run (13 kilometres Blog) on a dog legged course mostly on an out and back bridle way after a country start, mostly through woody areas. Weather overcast but pleasant. Damian again won but slit underneath his foot badly as he decided to race in spiked shoes (!!!!) which did not stay in one piece, an individual spike piecing the big toe. Now this is interesting because the First Aid treated him at the end of the race and gave him medical advice, about procedures of care, visiting A & E, tetanus injections etc., but I pointed out to him later, that having spent some few years lecturing in Red Cross, my talks, when given to sports people, I always gave the accredited medical procedures and protocol, but then I used to add unofficially, what an experienced athlete (aka ME) would do in the same set of circumstances. Take a bloody toe nail for example. There is the accepted medical treatment and there is my way, as Frank might say; in fact he did on more than one occasion! And my way works a whole lot quicker than following medical advice with the consequence that little or no time is lost from training, pain or no pain. Blister strategy is another case of a difference in approach. And Achilles tendons … the days and weeks and months I see athletes waste with Achilles problems when a simple solution is on hand. But medicine knows what to do??????? A couple of hundred finished. My daughter improved her overall standing. My grandchildren were at the finish to greet her.

Sunday morning:- the half marathon (half marathon to you Blog). Two laps of trail around the paths in the area. Paths that go nowhere; concrete pathways that used to go to ammunition dumps when the aerodrome was in use, before, during and up to 1961. The race was accompanied by the deafening roar of drag racing on the Santa Pod racetrack, the former runway of the air base. And I do meaning deafening Blog with a capital ‘D’. The half marathon race ran parallel to the runway strip but thankfully, the drag races only last for four seconds max; yes Blog, 4 seconds, I kid you not!! And there is quite a gap between races so it is nowhere near as bad as it sounds (geddit?? Bad as it sounds – deafening noise- oh don’t bother then Blog) Like the ‘Science Park’, it sounds futuristic but it isn’t. The Science Park is the Unilever’s global Safety and Environmental Assurance Centre whose scientists underpin consumer safety, environmental safety, occupational safety and sustainability initiatives worldwide. And we were camping next to it! Colworth is one of Unilever’s two main R&D centres in the UK. I can honestly say, hand on heart, that I saw not one single mutant behind the high razor wire fence all weekend. And the apples that glowed in the dark were just as tasty as the blue potatoes and green chicken we had at the bar-b-q. Weather overcast and warm, ideal for running. Damian Carr of the Coventry Godiva Harriers and Hi-Tec team again won comfortably, thereby securing his fifth Colworth title in eight or nine years. My elder daughter finished the race, her second half marathon, only a few minutes slower than her debut at the half marathon and is now thinking of racing (not ‘doing’) a marathon. And the kids couldn’t be arsed to be there at the finish for her … two races in two days is fair enough, but three in three? You see one race finish, then two … and they all look just the same!!! There are big ones, there are small ones, there are short ones and there are longer ones, but they all have lots of runners and they all look just the same. Enough is enough for a ten and seven years old when there are places to explore.

After the awards ceremony, everyone was unpitching their tents, packing up and most families were nearly finished when it RAINED with a capital ‘R’. Blog I kid you not. It chucked it down. What incredible timing. So another good piece of organisation by Colworth Striders.

Same place, same time, same distance next year??? Seeya!

                                            Colin