Sunday 12 October 2014

Old Ports - Eastbourne Weekend

As the Indian summer finally gave way to Autumn proper it was time for the Old Ports Eastbourne Weekend. Billed as a detraining ride, it is an easy going and indulgent weekend that gently closes the door on the formally competitive cycling season. I had to miss the group ride down on Friday, but Gary and I girded our loins in the face of dreadful weather forcasts and set out to join the gang at Jevington on Saturday.

Gary has put me in charge of navigation (in the land of the blind....) so it we took possibly the least picturesque route via the B2026 to the foot of the Ashdown. Ok simple pleasures. The climb to the top of the Ashdown Forest via Chuck Hatch is probably one of my favourite climbs, regardless of the season. Have done it against iron grey skies, in warm sunshine and with rain so hard I had long reached terminal wetness. But every time it has been a pleasure. After that we followed my time trialing nose onto the A22 for a frankly unpleasant ride to Hailsham. What is tolerable for a TT as 6.30 on a Sunday morning, is darn right nasty at 12.00 on a Saturday. Once off the A roads we had navigation challenge. Given that between us we had two Garmins and Two Iphones but still ended up asking for directions from a man who was carrying a large tyre across the road, probably says something not good about us.

Anyway we reached the 8 Bells in Jevington to be welcomed into the bosom of our club mates, and the worlds smallest portion of battered cod. We had enjoyed a mild and dry ride, they had been treated to a good soaking which to be honest I was quite smug about. As ever is was great catching up with people and meeting a few new faces (Joe and Terry - great to meet you.)

Now, Terry seemed very chipper and full of beans and as we rode back to Beachy Head had plenty of zip in his legs. I had 50 odd miles in mine, but was still impressed. It was only later he explained that he hadn't actually ridden down on Friday. He had been feeling a bit poorly so brought his bike down in his cab. So, he managed the sum total of 25 miles on a cycling club weekend away. Gold star for Terry. The upside was he drove our bags back so I shouldn't complain too much.

The return over the Ashdown coincided with a vintage truck event which meant I got to enjoy lung fulls of exhaust fume nostalgia as I slogged up to the garden centre, where Say rode out to meet us. Now the cafĂ© at the garden centre does lovely coffee and a tasty tuna baguette, and the people who work there are delightful, but as we arrived one of the staff said 'I forgot you were coming.' The place was full and we knew that this meant we were in for a long wait. My previous visit had resulted on a 45 minute wait for a coffee and a sandwich a record that today they were striving to beat. To add insult to injury once Bash had got the final mouthful of his coffee down, we were asked to note that people were waiting for our table and could we sling our hook. erm thanks for that.

Mentions in dispatches - Michael 'Dion' Howe if you could climb like you can descend the world would be your oyster. Joe C- great to meet you, strong ride. Vino - looking stronger than ever, off the front yes, not so much out the back anymore, and thanks for stopping me and Say ploughing off in the wrong direction. Alan - looking good, getting stronger on the uphills all the time. Julian, a man whose overshoes will inherit the earth, and big thanks to Bashers for making the whole thing work and herding that the cats that are the Old Ports.

After peeling off at Edenbridge, Say, Gary and me arrived at the top of Clarkes Lane in time to see the awesome David Millar heading to start his final race. Nice little end to the day. Made it back home in time to watch the rain start. Excellent stuff.

Millar and Schleck - Both retired but very different legacies

Ok, Julian I know I should be writing about the Duo and such things, and I will get round to it. But seeing the twitter feeds about David Millar's final pro race at the Bec Hill climb made me reflect on how different an end to career Millar is enjoying to that of Andy Schleck.

Both Millar and Schleck appeared as massive young prodigies, huge talents that the cycling world could barely wait to see unleashed. Both promised great things, before circumstance, reality and personal flaws kicked on. One never recovered the other found a way of coming back, maybe never achieving the athletic heights he and we dreamed of, but a better man than we could ever have hoped. The other slips away with a palmaris that boasts a TdF win, that  I imagine he will never bother watching on DVD.

Today Millar came full circle, with a storytellers sense of a narrative, back to the domestic TT scene that launched him over 20 years ago. Some of the people there today, we there for him all the way back then. He journey is well documented, but that he is able to return to his roots and be received with such unambiguous warmth is a testament to how complete his recovery as a man has been.

Schleck on the other hand is all ambiguity. A talent, greater than Millar, but one who just didn't seem to enjoy leading. The knee injury that has been put forward as the reason for retirement seems almost symbolic. This is a man who retired seasons ago. He always seemed happiest riding for other people, especially his Brother. When Frank got busted for doping, Andy didn't seem to know what to do with himself. As a young domestique riding for Satre he cheerfully worked over Cadel Evans with a clarity of purpose he never seemed to find when riding for himself. Yes, the record books will show he won the TdF in 2010. Yes, Contador was done for doping. But Schleck never really looked capable of delivering a knock out blow racing against Bertie. Bertie is a winner, he was one of the few who would incur the wrath of Brunyeel and Armstrong to ride his own race. Schleck came second in 2011 but since then, for a rider who should have been maturing into his prime, he has all but vanished.

For the future,  suspect that Millar's legacy will be a large one, and that continues to be a force for good. Schleck's will only live on in other peoples stories.

Thursday 14 August 2014

About The Chain Race

I have posted on the blog a story I wrote a couple of years ago, The Chain Race. It is  based loosely on the life of Choppy Warburton and his stable of racing cyclists in the 1890's. The main sources was Gerry Moore's 'The Little Black Bottle' but the story of Choppy crops up as a footnote in a few books on the history of cycling though I suspect that Moore's book is the principle source even for them.

The story takes us back to the point where the sport was just beginning to take the shape we know today. The case of Choppy is often sighted as evidence that there was never and age of innocence in cycling, that doping has been part and parcel of it since day one. But maybe what is more surprising is how Choppy assembled a world class team of British riders, the nucleus of which came from one family and their friends in Wales.

For anyone who has the stamina to read it, thank you.
 

Wednesday 13 August 2014

Mad About the Boy - Bridget Jones - Send her back to a simpler time

Bridget Jones appeared in the mid 90’s, an optimistic and frivolous time. The economy was on the up, the Berlin  Wall had come down. There was a fresh young government on its way, Brit pop had won the war, and Brit art had conquered the world. The grim 70’s and the grasping 80’s were supposed to be giving way to a better time, less boom and bust, more ethical. It was starting to look like things were even going to get better even for Palastine. Football was going to be great and women were free to get just as pissed, and be just as sexually indiscreet as they wanted to be.

With that backdrop the light comedy romance of a young(ish) angsting woman making her way in the media kind did fitted the mood of the time. It was a satire, but an affectionate one on a certain type of person. Much could be forgiven in a world where Loaded was flying off the shelves and porn had gone mainstream. The reappearance of the now widowed 50 plus Jones is a much more problematic. Much is to do with the times. Brit Art’s place not only in the world but our popular conscience is much diminished. Brit pop can now been seen as the defeat it was. But much more we have been living through seven years of austerity, at time that has seen many people (and not just the poor an ill educated) face real hardship. We are faced with what feels like eternal rolling conflict in the middle east, and the old superpower tensions are back. It’s a far harder, meaner world than the one where Bridget was left last time out.

Of course you will know none of this from the pages of Mad About the Boy. Bridget and her circle of (extremely) well off relatives and friends seem completely untouched but the troubles of the intervening 18 years. Even the detonation of Mr Darcy in Darfur does not seem to have given Bridget any insight into the world beyond her immediate experience. Nobody, not even the boho Rebecca appear to have any money concerns, as they move between private school functions, edgy London Nightspots, parties and gatherings. They are oblivious to any world beyond this. And we were told, we are all in this together. Helen Fielding has, if we needed it laid bare that lie.

So where do we find Bridget and why should we care? Now over 50 and widowed she is raising her two children on her own. Well on her own with the help of family, and wide circle of very nice friends and no shortage of cash. Mr Darcy had to have been killed. For him to have taken the more familiar exit route from a marriage, infidelity and divorce, would have harmed the brand of the earlier books. But his death allows us and Bridget to embark on yet another featherlight search for love. In this she seems to have gained no knowledge or wisdom, but re-enacts the innocent abroad that appeared in the earlier books. It proceeds, following an updated version of the diary format through a series of set pieces. These have a familiar pattern where unlikely social catastophy leads to short term grief and humiliation before turning out alright in the end.

While one is led to believe that Bridget is chaos on legs she does also seem remarkably and effortlessly talented. She manages to acquire and agent for her screen play, a screen play that actually starts getting made, without this being a burning desire. Her creative career is placed a long way behind her children and her search for a man. And here we stumble onto more dodgy ground. It feels like one of those British comedies from the 1950’s with Dirk Bogard. The kind of film were despite being a genius all a woman want is a man. This image is hardened by a supporting cast and plot that determinedly follows this path. While in the 90’s Girl Power and Ladette drowned out many feminists, this is no longer the case. But Bridget’s circle seem untouched not only by austerity, but have not heard the rising voices of feminists either.

I presume this book has not been written to be the catalyst for some violent uprising by the have nots. So who is it for? Who empathises with Bridget enough to come away from this book warmed inside. I guess there is an element of wish fulfilment. If Fielding’s readership has grown with her, then yearning for the excitement and pleasure of new love must have a big appeal. It is also reassuring, everything turns out ok, even though the children get nits and pick up leaflets on venereal disease and tell the school embarrassing things. Its also at times quite funny. Fielding creates some nice moments. But its not enough. Like Loaded and Oasis, Bridget Jones belongs in the 90’s, something we can look on as typical of its time. Reheating now sees a book that struggles to rise above the crass.

Sunday 27 July 2014

SCCU 100 G100/60 - Round and Round we go

Back at the start of the season I had some fine ambitions of doing a 4.30 in the SCCU 100. Reality had dawned in the recent ESCA 50 when  I came in with the 2.15, maybe 4.30 wasn't going to happen, but I nursed dreams of something around the 4.40 mark. Then I saw the course. Hmmm.

This one kicks off as did the SCCU 50 with a run out to Bolney, a trip to Henfield and then onto the A24. I had an early start 6.16 and that meant the traffic hadn't built to much by that stage. It the heads down to Washington, before turning back on a lumpy twisty bit of road through Partridge Green and back onto the A24. We had 41/2 laps like that to do. While I had been on reasonable schedule up to the start of the first lap  I was losing a couple of minutes each time I went through. I kept a consistent pace, and was doing a reasonable job of maintaining the heart rate and decent position on the big.  I just didn't have the power. I held my own on the A24 but found strong guys spinning past of the return.

Other G100 courses use this for a couple of laps, and I have never found it easy, but with the loss of the course after Southwater this was pretty much the only option. Finished with a 4.50.22 that was some way from where I wanted to be, but as they say its the race of truth. Only one other Port entered today, John Mulvaney and faired much better with a 4.42. That said for those who can it isn't that tough a course. The winner Steve Kane of Brighton Excelsior romped home with a 3.54, which is frankly incredible.

Big thanks to Jacqui Champion who was there to encourage and hand me a bottle, and another big thanks to Sam Ramsey of Lewes Wanderers. Sam had been clever enough to park his car near the finish, and generous enough to offer me a lift back to the HQ, sparing me an extra 4 miles I didn't need. Anyway, glad its done, and kind of accepting that this is a season of rebuilding after two fallow years.

Thursday 24 July 2014

Sham 69 Punk (disappointingly not) Footnotes # ??

A couple of days ago browsing facebook I came across a link from the Dead Kennedys page to an article where the write reflected on the most disappointing punk albums ever. This was as balance to praise for the first Ramones Album.

Clearly to be disappointing the band in question must have achieved a level of success and had a reputation. However lacklustre I may have found Peter and the Test Tube Babies, I don't even think they would list 'Pissed and Proud' amongst the greatest. The author of the article picked on Rancid (Clash lite and hype), My Chemical Romance (Emo isn't punk) and the Misfits (just not that good). All fine choices in my view but I think fall short of my selection.

With a nice 35 year gap, the greatest gulf between reputation and the actual quality of the output has to fall to Sham 69 for the 'That's Life' album. Actually I could have picked on any of their albums but That's Life just got unlucky. Some bands have enjoyed positive critical reappraisal  over the years (X-Ray Spex for example) Sham's havn't. However they were massively popular at the time and had a devoted army of skinhead fans (which has a lot to do with their rather ambiguous legacy).

However that they racked up a string of chart hits and was generally taken seriously does seem remarkable when one listens to this record. Firstly its a concept album, about some numpty bloke's day. To link the songs into sub quadrophonia story between tracks you have little bits of dialogue. I found this toe curling when I first heard the album and it has curdled with time. One thing to note is how cinematic Sham's influences were. Films like A Clockwork Orange, and Scum, along with kitchen sink dramas and Spaghetti Westerns seem to feature large.

The album contains Sham 69's best song, the cheery and very silly Hurry up Harry. Its a cracking tune and the lyric is light and fun. These are qualities largely absent on the rest of the album. Jimmy Pursey's approach to lyrics seemed to be come up with a half decent opening couple of lines, or a chorus and then any old drivel will do. Frequently this drivel is delivered as mighty social commentary, that then collapses under the slightest scrutiny. exhibit A

Running for the bus in my flash blue suit
someone shouts out poof so  I put in the boot
I don't want to wear it, its my boss that tells me too
So when you laugh at me, you only laugh at you

Er no Jimmy we are laughing at you.

Again maybe the world was different back then but their depiction of working class life seems to skate pretty close to Chas n Dave (actually I feel a thesis on the influence of Mrs Mills on hardcore punk in the late 1970's coming on). Such classics as 'Everybody's Right, Everybody's Wrong' and 'Win or Lose' or 'Is this me or Is this you' (can you see a theme here) bring little inspiration to the world. The song 'Evil Way' may have sounded like laddish knock about fun in 1979, now sounds like a battle cry for date rape.

Sham69 did have huge influence. The whole Oi/Street Punk style has its roots in Sham 69, not just on this side of the Atlantic. On the sleeve liner of Flex Your Head, members of the nascent Minor Threat wear Sham t shirts. When Sham's thick chords and terrace chant choruses are twinned with Wire's velocity and brevity one has reached hardcore. But Sham's great tunes are thinly spread, and  what sits between quickly becomes tiresome.  Its not rubbish, there's the aforementioned Hurry Up Harry and a few good lines here and there. But it just isn't that good, and worst of all, actually quite boring.

Wednesday 23 July 2014

Fake Sheik, Rattle and Heads that Roll

Whatever actually went on between Tulisa and the Fake Sheik what puzzles me is why it was seen by the CPS as the kind of case worthy of taking to court. I may have lost my moral compass but attempting to supply £860 worth of coke doesn't  seem to me to place Tulisa in the Napoleon of Crime category. We live in a world where the middle aged daughter of a former Chancellor uses a little charlie. Whatever his motivations, the scale of Mazher Mahmood's investigation went way beyond anything the alleged offence justified.

From my perspective it would have seemed the kind of offence that would be handled with a caution if anything.  So  I took a look at the CPS site to see what kind of sentence Tulisa could have expected. I was surprised by weight of the sanctions. Some years ago I came across a woman who had been stabbed by her partner and the Police would not take the case forward because she was not willing to testify against him. He was a thoroughly violent and nasty man who soon after stabbed a friend, and had an appalling history of violence and antisocial behaviour. In the context of this the sentences around drugs seemed heavy. However but to Tulisa's supply case.

Against her is that Coke is a class A drug so it all gets very punitive. However there are significant mitigations. He role as a supplier seems to fall into the 'lesser' category. She seemed to be involved through naivety, her influence of the supply chain small and could be said to have been pressured into doing it. Then is the quantity, I am not expert but my assumption is that £860 would place it in the lowest category in term of volume. In addition the purpose of the supply is also relevant. She was not dishing it out in school playgrounds. Instead she obtained a small quantity for what she would have believed was a business associate (maybe even friend) to use on a lads weekend. On this basis if convicted Tulisa, who doesn't have a long history of drug dealing, and who from the evidence was having massive carrots dangled before her, it is likely that it would have ended in a community sentence.

On that basis I do wonder whether some of the CPS motivation of pressing ahead with this case (where they would have been aware of all the entrapment challenges etc) was not in some way driven by the celebrity not of Tulisa but of Mahmood, the fake sheik. To have left the case on file, or issue a caution would have not satisfied. Given the high profile of the investigator and the huge operation he had undertaken was this a pressure to go ahead with a case that seems to lack value. Interesting to the public yes, in the public interest, dubious.

There are cases where Mahmood's tactics have been of value in capturing genuine gangsters. If that is where he focussed his talents few would have anything but admiration for him and the papers that employed him. The choice (especially in the post Leveson world) to use this weapon to embarrass and humiliate mid range celebs for minor wrong doing seems foolish, both on the part of the paper and Mahmood.

Monday 21 July 2014

Sleaford Mods - The Angry Young Man becomes an angry old man

There was a time in my teens when I was seeing bands just as they were becoming the next big thing. Pride of place goes to seeing The Smiths play to a couple of hundred people at North East London Poly. Now, I hear about bands two years after they have appeared through interviews in The Guardian. Such is life.

It was though this route that I came across Sleaford Mods, a thoroughly awkward pair dishing out angry rants about austerity Britain. Their breakthrough track (if it can be called that) is a first person tsunami of bitterness called Job Seeker. Chin jutting, hollow braggadocio of a man losing the plot in a job centre, his self hatred and rage against the world competing in a foul mouthed tirade. One can hear The Fall, The Streets and Plan B in there, but somehow different. Less abstract than The Fall, grimmer than The Streets yes. But while Plan B may have occupied similar lyrical territory Sleaford Mods are not ranting for the 16 year old on the fringes of gang culture. They are about the broken man in his 30's 40's men (and it is very male) who have tried and failed. Their failure is their own.

Reading that both members were in their 40's made sense and also struck me as interesting. They are not grown ups pretending to be down with the kids, they are writing angry music about who they are. They are not social commentators from the outside, they place themselves, like Morrissey and Lou Reed did at their best on the inside of the world they want to depict. When I was in my teens the idea that a band with members in their 40's could be writing angry music about their lives, and it to have any resonance would have seemed ridiculous. But it is still us baby boomers driving the music industry. Our tastes dominate. I would rather two guys in there 40's had a crack at saying something about the world than the legions of young bands who seem to make old music.

Whether the Sleaford Mods have any longevity will depend on two things. Firstly can they still say vital interesting things now that they are critically lorded musicians rather than frustrated wannabes. And secondly can they evolve their musical template. Plan B found huge commercial success breaking out of the Grime Ghetto. He could do this partly because he was armed with remarkable singing voice, and clearly vast ambition. Whether Williamson of SM's can do the same is to be seen. But even if they don't they have made an indecent mark.

Tree House Croydon -

Last night fancied a bit of a treat dinner, especially one we didn't have to cook. Over the years we have given a fair pounding to the restaurants in Croydon and sometimes it does feel a little over familiar. Anyway, there was a food festival going on down in South Croydon and warmed up by a nice pint of London Pride in the Spread Eagle we headed down before the quiz night started.

The Tree House is a pretty well established pub restaurant, only those of my generation and older will remember it as the Blue Anchor. We have had some really nice meals their in the past, I have particularly fond memories of a smoked haddock with poached egg and mash. A short menu of well prepared unfussy dishes is one of their strengths.  Last night wasn't its best though, and I am afraid that maybe it is on a bit of a downward slope. On a warm Sunday evening following a food festival we were surprised to see it was largely empty when both Brasserie Vacherin and Bugatti's were busy. The waitress was cheery and the menu looked good.

We ordered a bruschetta and a Carpaccio of beef starters. They were fine, but to be honest very very small. A cheery pile of leaves on my plate could not disguise the fact there was barely a mouthful of meat, and the Bruschetta was about the size of  half an English muffin. We were now damn glad we had ordered some sides with our main. And were even more glad as there now seemed to be a long wait for the mains to appear. This was curious as they were not exactly busy. The grilled salmon and the veggie Wellington were lovely when they arrived but it was a very long time.

We wanted to round the meal off with cheese, and the waitress assured us that one would be enough for two. I was sceptical but deferred to her judgement. I never got to find out as she returned to advise that 'the chef has told me we have no more cheese board.' By now the magic was lost and took the bill and headed home.

Its a shame the overall was just a bit slack when the food tasted good and the service was friendly.

Brighton Excelsior 10 and 25 - Testing Weekend

While my club mates sought fast times on fast courses I stuck with the G courses this weekend. To be honest it would have probably been quicker getting over to Bentley for the H25/8 than getting down to Steyning. I have heard Brighton described as London on Sea, and to be honest in the world of Time Trialling it comes pretty damn close to being true. Both the G10/97 and G25/93 turn just outside Shoreham but come under 'London South.' Anyway my original motivation was to support the 10 on Saturday because it was being run by an old friend, James Stone. Having entered the 10 it felt rude not to do the 25 as well.

Neither course has a reputation for being fast. The 10 has a sub 20 minute record so is actually pretty quick, starting outside Steyning on the A283 over a couple of roundabouts to Shoreham and back. It has a nifty little gift start, though as the rain was tipping down I didn't make the best use of it I could have. Came away happy enough with my 24.40. The real feature of this event was that it included a competition for Juniors where some serious upcoming talent. 16 year old Zac Coran-Haines won the Junior Competition with a 22, Amy Smith another 16 year old one the girls version with a 24.

I think Conall Yates took the overall with a 20.35 but is was pretty close.

Back on Sunday for the G25/93 and to be honest was feeling a little jaded. This kicks off with a loop through Partridge Green onto the A24, a left hander at the Washington Roundabout (the graveyard of may TT dreams) out to Shoreham and back. The opening is on a lumpy twisty road with a iffy surface and I found myself labouring through the first 10 miles in around 27 minutes. By the time I was through the Washington Roundabout and at 15 miles 40mins had passed. In the end in dry conditions  I kicked myself up the backside and did the final 10 miles quicker than I had gone on Saturday to come away with an only slightly underwhelming 1.04.17

With the OPCC track day looming I had to scuttle away before the final results were in but full marks to BECC for running a couple of great events with a decent buffet of cake and rolls at the hall.

Sunday 20 July 2014

Old Portlians CC - Club Track Championships

Back at the AGM, long stand member Clive Jeffery put his hand in the air and offered to run a club track championship at Herne Hill. Given that putting ones hand in the air and offering to do things is not what the club is known for this was something special in itself. The normal method for apportioning tasks is a combination of chicken and you touched it last. The track champs used to be a fixture of the Old Ports calendar but had slipped away in recent years, so we were all delighted that Clive was up for breathing life back into the beast again.

The championship revolved around four events. A 200m sprint (basically eyeballs out giving it everything from a flying start. A four lap pursuit with riders starting on opposing sides of the track. Probably the cruellest event is the Devil Takes the Hindmost , where last rider on each lap is eliminated. To close the day was the points race, points being awarded for the first 3 places on each lap.

To be honest there at not that many experienced track riders at the club. More than once Clive rolled his eyes as his charges failed to follow his instructions. A number  of people were referencing doing it at school, and for most of us, school was a very long time ago. Michael Fowler was probably the most candid with his comment. 'I did it at school, I wasn't very good then, I am not very good now. But people pretty quickly got that hang of things, and once the riders stopped gasping for air, there were plenty of broad smiles. Sally Avery could barely contain her delight at the end of her sprint. Having knackered myself doing at 25 at Steyning this morning I sat out of the racing opting to take pictures and offer largely unhelpful advice.

The podium was, 3rd Place Dave Warne ( a bit tuckered from his 56 on the F1 this morning, I note he did not use a time trial as an excuse not to race this pm, hmmm), 2nd Steve Avery (looks strong) and 1st place went to Iain Hawthorn. Well deserved. Has been putting lots of time crit racing this season and the craft transferred well, especially as the bunch fragmented at the end of the points race.

Fantastic event for the club. Congratulations to Iain and the other guys on the podium. And a huge thank you to Clive and Ian Jeffery for doing the hard work and making the thing happen.  

Sunday 13 July 2014

ESCA 50 Wet Wet Wet

50's are an odd distance for me. When I am strong and on top of my game it is probably my favourite distance. But when I am not on the button they stink. Three Old Ports were scattered across the start sheet of this, Bash and Dave Warne off at vaguely sensible time, me of No.1 at 6.31 am. Given that it is a fair schlepp from Croydon this meant that the alarm brought me unwillingly to life at 4 a.m. If I was nursing any hopes for a float morning the sound of rain told me it was more likely to be of the life raft kind.

Basically the course runs up and down the A22 out of East Hoathly via lots of roundabouts. The road surface used to be rubbish but to be fair its not as bumpy as it once was. Never the less events on this stretch  are never ones to give you a flattering moral boostingly fast time. More drag than drag strip. That said they have the advantage of not being closed due to road works which gives them one massive advantage over the Horsham Courses.

The rain seemed to be holding off as I got ready, so much so that  decided not to bother with the waterproof overshoes I have brought specially. Poor fool that  I was. By the time I arrived at the start line flustered and 15 seconds late it was tipping it down, and within a the first 100 yards my feet were soaked and soon the rest of me was. Traffic was still light, which was a relief as visibility was dire. I was struggling to really give it full gas, and it wasn't until the first 25 came up and the rain stopped that I gave myself a talking to and got going. Ended up with a 2.15.19 which is probably 5 mins short of where  I wanted to be, but a couple of mins quicker than my last 50 on a lousy morning. So another event under my belt on what is proving a long haul back. On the upside, again I had no problem going the distance just short on the watts.

Got back to the hall to see Dave's van had gone so presumed he had ditched it, and a message from Bash saying he had done something similar. Glad I pushed through and did it, but it was a day to chalk up to experience. I did not stay to see who won, the one benefit if a foolishly early start is an early return home. But the MTFU aware for today goes to no.3, Matthew Blagg of Maidenhead and District CC. It was his first ever 50, and he started in the same monsoon as I did. But managed to go seriously off course. Not the quick wrong turn and realise, no a proper thrust into the unknown. He finally found his way back but had lost barrowloads of time. Now given that the course runs near the HQ several times, the weather is crap and his time will now be dreadful nobody would really have blamed Matthew for knocking it on the head. But no, he was made of sterner stuff and kept going and finished the event. I did console him that he now had a time for a 50 to beat. I am not sure he found that thought entirely encouraging at that moment.

Anyway - onto more fun and games in Sussex for me next weekend with various Brighton Excelsior instruments of torture.  

Saturday 12 July 2014

Argentina and South London's greatest goalkeeper

It is kind of fitting that with Argentina about to play in the World Cup final that Julian Speroni is celebrating 10 years as Palace's goalkeeper. Actually that is not quite accurate. It is 10 years since Speroni signed for Crystal Palace, a career book ended by very different experiences in the top flight.

In 2003/4 Palace under Dowie had been promoted via the playoffs. For reasons that now escape me Palace were without a first choice keeper and used a number of loan signings, with Nico Vassen doing the job in the play off final. Vassen had made enough of an impression on the supporters to even have his own song. Not complex it was his name sung to the tune of 'Lip up Fatty.' Agsin for  reasons that escape me Vassen didn't want to stick around and we signed the Argentinian from Dundee who wore a pony tail a la David Seaman. 

Speroni's start was pretty shocking where behind a newly promoted defence he made a series of blunders, most famously at home to an Everton side who were themselves struggling up to that point. For a keeper Speroni is small, and in a league where commanding you box matters lots he seemed a bit lightweight.Dowie lost confidence in him and the big charismatic and decidedly odd Gabor Kiraly was brought in. At this point JS disappears from view. I guess I expected him to slip away like so many of the other unimpressive post promotion signings. For two seasons after he hung around playing second fiddle to the increasingly annoying Kiraly and then Scott Flinders. 2007/8 everything changes. Starting the season as no 12 he makes 40odd first team appearances of growing assurance to go with the undoubted reflexes to become player of the year. When Palace went into one of their periods of administration he stayed loyal to further enhance his status as not only a great keeper but good human being. The ultimate reward, a return to the Premiership could have been a double edged sword. Like much of the team he struggled early on, and even when the saviour Pulis arrived the vultures were circling. A contract running out and the Christmas signing of Wayne Hennessey suggested that the future would not be his. But this time he didn't choke on the big stage, instead turned in some of his finest performance to keep Palace in games, and keep Hennessey on the bench. 

He has earned a new contract though in my heart of hearts it won't take much for Pulis to ease him to one side. It has been a wonderful but strange path he has trodden at Selhurst. How many 'big foreign signings' languish in thr reserves foe three years only to emerge to become an ever present talisman for the team for the next seven.

5 Iconic Climbs - Curmudgeonly Grumbling

Cyclosport have put out a perfectly cheery article about the Top 5 Iconic European Climbs. There are some nifty facts and cool photos and the whole thing is just fine. But I felt irritated by it, and had to spend a couple of moments thinking why. The selection is to behonest fair enough given that they are 'iconic, not 'greatest'. Alp d'Huez, check, Tourmalet, check, Ventoux, check. Whst about the a Giro? Oh go on Stelvio, check. A small voice for the corner of the room, 'What about the Vuelta?' Eyes roll, go on then stick in L'Angrilu to keep them quiet. My gripe is that like coming up with a list of 'most influential rock groups of all time' however you game it they always come up with the same answers. Normally these answers are based on a narrow time frame, and become true by repetition. Who is the greatest Opera singer? Maria Callas. Why? Because everyone says so.

The inclusion of Tourmalet and Ventoux are justifiable by their place in Tour history, and Alp d'Huez by its sheer ubiquitousness. Side note, leave the history to one side Alp d'Huez is not in the same league as Ventoux or Tourmalet. But why trot out the same old names again.  It is like having a literary blog telling us that Shakespeare was a great playwrite. Why not a list that can embrace climbs where the iconography comes from the era of the black and white photo? How about the Col'd Izoard there Coppi and Bartalli shared a brief truce and a bottle of water, or Puy de Dome where Anquetil and Poulidour fought, (almost literally) shoulder to shoulder. This Could throw up some unexpected new ideas for us amateurs, rather than another run through the already familiar.

Thursday 10 July 2014

World Cup of Equals

Germany and Argentina are familiar names in World Cup finals and the teams they beat in the semis are a huge part of the past. But this World Cup felt more equal. Plenty of heavy hitters fell hard, even those final two had difficult with the so called minnows. It us a globalised game, and it is my guess that this having both centralised club football has democratised the national game. World wide scouting brings the cream to Europe from a cross the globe to be trained and groomed with the best their is. Their clubs dominate the world. But then the winds of nationhood scatter then back across the world. There are no far off talents of which we know little or nieve triers now. Everyone knows the game.
But the works to harm those mighty nations whose club sides bestride the globe. Italy, England and Spain. All gone in the first round. Maybe the secret of international success is to have a weak home league and let your best players fly away to make there living the hard way in foreign countries that care little for them beyond their talent.

Wednesday 9 July 2014

Froome and Team Sky's plan B

Having been rather scornful of the value of a plan B Team Sky, like Omega Pharma Quickstep are faced with coming up with one inside the first week. Both Teams left out supposedly superfluous heavy hitters. How much would Omega have loved to have Boonan on the start line today now that Cav is gone? But Sky's omission of Wiggins will capture the headlines, in Britain at least, now that Froome has gone. On the steps of the Team bus  Brailsford looked less than convinced talking up Porte as a realistic substitute team leader. With a following wind he is a fine rider but its hard to imagine that tonight Nibali and Contador are not quietly relieved.

However, given his clear form just how bad must Wiggins be as a team mate that it was safest to leave him out, especially given that he does have recent form on the cobbles. Its debate, that some if not all, will come out diminished. Either Brailsford has made a huge error of judgment, or there was something so toxic in Froome, Wiggins or both that made having them together impossible. 

Here is my guess. Froome is a self made man who resented playing second fiddle to Wiggo, who I suspect he does not really respect. Wiggo, a product of BC, happiest with the individual effort of the TT and pursuit, a man who appears emotionally vulnerable, needs a lot of support around him. My guess is that he has also cheesed off some of the more senior members of the squad, such as Thomas.  However he is more charismatic and popular with the public. Brailsford would have convinced himself that a team needs to be more than the sum of its parts, that a whole sans Wiggo was a better bet. He was wrong. Froome has been vulnerable to crashes in the Tour run in and has had his own health problems. With a stage on the Roubaix cobbles so early it was a huge gamble he did not have to make. Sky have made wrong moves before, but this is far more profound. It brings into question their fundamental strategy and people management. 

What it does mean is that the riders that remain should be liberated to do some harm on individual stages. The team slogging away to put Porte on the podium (a long shot) feels a drab choice, riding in the wheels of Bert and Nibbles. 

BRAGER - the sacking of football's utopia

One could sense shock and awe last night, not just on the faces of the Brazillian's but in the voices of the MoTD team. Hansen in particular seemed inconsolable, wallowing in the short coming of the host nation with a level of feeling he can't muster when Scotland once again fail to qualify. Resentful of Shearer's efforts to talk about how good Germany were, he was even more fixated than usual on what went wrong for the losers.

Last night football's utopia burned, a fantasy land where all that is good in the game still thrives was demolished. It is a place where the beautiful game is played, in the sunshine, watched by beautiful women in a simpler land. This is a wonderful contrast to our blunt soggy nations long balls and hooligans. While Brazil were winning world cups in the 50's and 60's I guess it must have been 1970 when they blazed into the a British psychie. Technicolor football in the first colour TV World Cup. Since then pundits have placed Brazil in a different place to all other teams. Despite their own World Cup pedigrees Italy and Germany come nowhere close. Last night Germany showed the world that Brazil were just another football team, a mediocre side save for the absent genius of Neymar. And that is what was so hard to swallow, that no Santa Claus moment for those grown up kids that still wanted to believe. Like the smell of tear gas told us that the Brazillian's are more complex than the depictions of a childlike nation suggest, this football collapse reminds us that know team has footballs holy grail forever.

But to be honest much of the worshipping of Brazil doesn't stand up to close examination. There have been brilliant Brazil Teams since1970 and some that were just very  good. While in tht Pele era their stars were rarely seen by European players or supporters, now they are just a part of the global football machine. Familiarity should be rendering wish fulfilment impossible. But we still want to believe there is a better place, just too far away to see clearly. Last night we learned it doesn't exist. 

Sunday 6 July 2014

Baby it's wet outside

When I got the email cancelling the Bec 25 yesterday I was thoroughly pissed off. An hour later seeing Cav scrape himself off the Tarmac and limp over the line did not improve my mood. I went to the garage to tinker with my bikes. With no TT I fettled my lovely Fest road bike for the club run this morning. The forecasts said it would be overcast but dry. I am sure the Yahoo weather app is moderated by a crazed optimist. I can hear the rain, I look through the blinds and can see the wet roads. Now, only now when confronted by this undenial truth the the app accept it is wet. But I won't let it lie, making more empty promises with its picture of a little sun peaking out from behind the cloud.

Get on with it man, its wet outside. Get over it.

Tuesday 1 July 2014

Eels Albert Hall and another time and place

There was a strand of Americsn Rock that emerged in the post grunge 90's that would have passed many British observes by, half drowned as it was in the drab thud of Britpop. Sparklehorse, Silver Jews and most successful, Mark E's Eels produce a brand of subtle introspective music that was in many ways so far ahead of what was happening here. Like softly spoken geniuses in a bar full of beered up pole dancing fans they were easy to ignore. Eels first album was bursting with great slices of what Mark E describes a bummer rock. In 1997 I saw them in a tent at the Reading Festival. It was a tipping point year for me. The sun was shining a Palace side featuring Atillio Lombardo were beating Leeds away from home but the music that day felt dead. Bands like Travis, wannadies and The Cardigans confirming that if there had been a party the drinks cabinet was now very empty. Eels were my last big hope for the day.

Then a 3 piece Mark E seemed at odds with the experience from the start. A round peg making itself square just to piss off the hole. The songs were discordant, he was tetchy. Dumping the familiar arrangements of songs from the album they seemed to want to prevent the audience connecting. Novocain for the Soul was almost unrecognisable and to be honest pretty shit compared to the record. This was not a band playing badly, it was a band deliberately seeing to confound. After a long day of standing around drinking lager in plastic glasses I wanted the easy option. I didn't want to be challenged. Ending the day feeling let down by a band I loved came to fit in my nemory with the wider malaise that hung over the day.

Time passes and I end up with a pair of tickets to see Eels at the Albert Hall. Though I had continued to buy the albums, that day in 1997 remained the only time I had seen them live. I kind of guessed that so much time had passed that it bound to be very different, but I wasn't sure how. Based on the experience of 1997 to sound of the recorded work did not make me feel on safe ground. In many ways everything had change yet the core remained the same. E had adopted the raconteur style of  stoner Tom Waites. Self mockery and in jokes with the crowd tipping the wink that there was a smile behind the underbite scowl, at least some of the time. The band had grown and changed. The drummer with the tache and stretson, and the bass player with the comic deep voice had gone. They had probably been gone for 10 years if Ruth be known. But of an artist that has played so often with different persona and styles this set also revealed a very clear trajectory. At set that balanced the bummer with redemptions nod smiles. 'Line in the dirt' opens with 'she locked herself in the bathroom again, so I'm pissing in the yard' a deadpan take on flat lives that brings to mind writers like array mind Carver.

The 48 year old me tapping my foot in thr box in the grand tier wondered what the 18 year old me would have thought of this. But the sound was great, the view was great and it was easy to get a beer. The middle aged me was happy with that. There was a great set up. During the set E bemoans not being able to use the Hall's grand pipe organ. The set carried on through a series of encores, the highlight for he being a tender rendition of 'last stop this time.' When the band finally leaves the stage there was a sense there maybe more. Suddenly the backdrop falls away and E appears phantom of the opera style, manic stage laughter and all, an get to play a few brooding bars on what I guess must be one of the biggest musical instruments in the world, before slipping away once again.

It was a wonderful show from a band that still ploughs their own furrow, but have learnt to love putting on a show.

Monday 30 June 2014

Thanks George, your gift keeps on giving

Old George Peabody was an interesting chap. An American who fell in lev with London made a giant pile of cash and gave it away to good cause here and in the States. One of his lesser know gifts was to chip in to the building of the Albert Hall. No idea how much big George (as I like to call him) coughed up, but it was enough for him to have a box in the Grend Tier (just along from the Queen) into perpetuity.

In the spirit of George the tickets aren't just divvied up amongst the big wigs. Instead staff pay into  lottery, win tickets and the money raised goes to support good works. This, going the long was round was how I got to see the Eels tonight put on a blinding show, climaxing with E having a go at playing the grand organ.

So thanks George



Sunday 29 June 2014

SCCU 50 The Course of True Love

With the ongoing roadworks around Broadbridge Heath this event was moved to the G50/10 out of Dial Post. Looking at the route on Garmin it looks like a bunch of grapes with the fruit stripped off, a series of out and backs between roundabouts. A lumpy, twisty course, much of it in single carriageway busy roads, it was never going to be one for those seeking a moral boosting time. That said, plenty did just I was not amongst them. Hugh again was a DNS- work getting in the way. Kevin making a return to the tribals following a broken arm gave it 25 miles before deciding discretion was the better part of valour. That left me and Dave Warne. Dave was looking super strong and it showed with a very impressive 2.05.07 despite his visor steaming up. 

Despite yesterday's moral boosting time today I could have ridden forever, just not very fast. Though I maintained the heart rate throughout the speed and grunt to get over the lumps was missing. Came in with a 2.17.20. Couldn't be too disappointed as feel at last have a solid base to build from, and this is the first 50 I have completed since 2011, my last 3 attempts have ended in various DNFs, mechanical, medical and mental related.

Good to see a bunch of Portly friends. Katie Crowe from Dulwich and Val Place from 7  Oaks Tri both put in strong rides, as did James Stone from Brighton Excelsior. But undoubtedly the ride of the say was Steve Kane from Brighton Excelsior who won with a 1.52 despite crashing. He was all smiles back at the hall  despite a bloodied arm and hip. But victory is a wonderful opiate I guess. 

Horsham 10 28.6.14

With a few hundred miles in my legs thanks to the Raid and the Tour of Wessex since I last raced I was pretty interested in seeing how would go in this one. I generally don't like 10's, they are over before I gave got started and a 2 hour round trip for less than 1/2 hours race never seems like a great return. But I was glad I had entered this one as one of my fellow Raiders was Alan Dolan from the Horsham CC. 
Three ports were on the start sheet, though Hugh turned out to be DNS. It left me and Paul King to defend the clubs honour. I felt good in the warm up, raiding my heart rate like clicking through gears. It was a decent morning, and we got it all done before the rain started, the rain that drenched the SEWTTS riders over on the H course in the PM.

Despite not having touched the TT bike in over a month I was comfortable, and was very satisfied with my 24.40. Paul was less enthusiastic about his 23.52, but as he said it wasn't a target event for him. Conal Yates won in a well contested battle between the top guys with a 20.18.

Wednesday 18 June 2014

Raid Pyrenean part 3 - People and places

The journey took us to curious mixof hotels from the functional to the decidedly odd. At Massat at the end of the3rd day we were at Hotel les Trois Seigneures. We were told we were lucky to have a room in the main hotel rather than the annex. To be fair the room was large but, the hotel had something of a gothic flavour where the lobbies were filled with large china faced dolls, all in elaborate Victorian costume. In the dining hall there were a number of stuff animals. That they served coffee from huge yellow tea pots only added to this Alice in Wonderland feel.

Over dinner the next night I was reflecting on this with Steve the anaesthetist. Steve was a strong rider but with a touch of the Huge Laurie about him and a nice way with stories. I shared my guilty pleasure following the twitter feed @craptaxidermy. Steve was a long way ahead of me.

'I have a friend who's hobby is collecting animal skulls.' What a line to either make or kill a conversastion. 'What like fossils.'

'No, animals an birds he find by the road. He carries plastic bags and a hatchet in his car just in case and buries the heads in his garden for six months so they get picked clear.' Nervously I enquired whether this friend was in the medical profession. 'Oh no he works in construction.' Again I presume this man would be unfamiliar with the caress of woman. 'He's married with two kids.' Oh lordy. But worse was to come. This man took his kids to one of the Thames islands to camp. They decided to kill a good to eat. Now if you have ever met a goose in the flesh.... Apparently they got hold of some unfortunate bird but then could not make it die, not for want of trying just they couldn't make it happen. The amount of noise and fighting that must of gone on  is too terrifying to consider.
 Steve the anaesthetist chilling with his mate Tim (not the skull collector)

 Simon - checking his colour coordination.

Simon, the cycling hairdresser belongs to a small demography, cycling, vegetarian, non drinking Iggy pop and Lou Reed fans. He is a man who likes his Bianchi whether or not it a practical choice. The kind of guy in a group of relative stranger who is guaranteed to keep the conversation rolling. Mike from somewhere in the Northwest observed that Simon was the only rider who when up hill as fast as he went down. This seemed to tickle Simon no end.  Mike is one of the good guys in the world . Gentle, modest, despite being one of the stronger riders was generous with his praise. As a hobby in England he coaches young athletes, some who don't really have much in the way of parental support. Talking about one runner he commented 'It was just me there going bananas' as his rider pulled off a PB. He noted with some sadness that as a coach if you get somebody good there are going to get taken from you. 'They will have expectatons now, if next hear its not happening then I am not going to keep hold of them.'

Raid Pyrenean Part 2 - lets talk about cols

Here's me cresting the Peyresourde on Day 3 (not in the big ring)

Its the mountains that makes the Raid so special, a pretty much unbeatable tour through the classic Pyrenean battlegrounds of Le Tour. The whole ride boasts 18 cols but to be honest some a relative pimples. Day 1 features none of the big names, but though looking like an 'easy' day has the distance and the amount of climbing one would typically find in a British sportive such as the Castle Ride or the first day of the Tour of Wessex. When one is dealing with the Raid, easy is a relative concept.

It day 2 that really bites and there was a tricky little extra chucked in. The day was due to kick off with the Aubsique, but a landslide meant an alternative route. The alternative needed to be approved and the powers that be were not going to let us off lightly. They added an extra 18km and 500m of climbing by replacing the Aubisque with an ascent of the Col de Soulour, prefaced by the Marie Blanc. One damp morning we left the hotel and hit the foothills of this nasty bugger pretty much straightaway. Many of the Pyrenean climbs start with a gentle upgrade before showing their teeth. The Marie Blanc is not one of the giants at 9km, but with the final 4km between 10.5 and 12.5% gradient it stings. By comparison the Soulour is more of a pussy cat, but by the time one has crested this we still had 100km to ride and the Tourmalet lay ahead.

Of course the Tourmalet is the big beast with all the tour history but for the first two thirds I was pretty underwhelmed. To start with there seemed to be pretty much continuous road works, with some pretty serious civil engineering going on. The we rode into what I took to be a thick mist, where one could only see a few feet ahead, so even if there were majestic views we weren't going to see them. It was when Tim came past in the van, I realised that we were riding through the clouds, and about 7 km from the top we broke through into beautiful sunshine, and the true power of the landscape opened up. Despite is 8.5% average in the last 8km, and some pretty iffy road surfaces I found I could keep a steady pace going and enjoy the spectacle.

At 174km day 3 was the longest with a generous 3000m of climbing, but with a real sting in the tail. The Col d'Aspin was a treat, beautiful, nice tarmac and a steady gradient. What followed was the peyresourde, probably my favourite climb, not least because the café at the top served the most wonderful cheese and ham omelettes, and delicious crepes. But again, we still had 120km to ride from there. Day 2 had been a bit mixed on the weather from, but day 3 was beautiful, and after a couple of minor Cols we reached the foot of the Portet d'Aspet. Arriving after 100km, and with reports of gradients of 14%, though fairly short this one had a few of us worried. There was one ramp where it was probably over 14%, but averaging around 9% for the final 5km meant that it never got out of hand. But even now, we still had to slog the best part of 60km to the finish, firstly a long descent to St Girons and then a 27km uphill drag to Massat. A long tough day.

Day 4 had less pedigree but no shortage of ascent, but with day 5 being a relatively mild run to the sea there was confidence building. As before we were climbing pretty much from the moment we left the hotel, but the Col de Port was nice and steady. However that was just setting the scene for the Col de Paiheres. Rising to 2001m with average gradients in the last 5 km of 9% this was probably only second to the Tourmalet in terms of scale. As one reaches that final part it is one of the few climbs that has that alpine feel with lots of hairpins and ramps where one can look back to where you have come from. Once over the top the descent was on a skinny road that seems more like a bowl of spaghetti thrown at the mountain than any sensible route.

It was getting hot now and though nothing special the Col de Garavel kind of pissed me off, but as  I started the final climb, the Jau, my mood picked up and when I got of 4 km from the top  I threw a bit of caution to the wind and attacked to the summit. From there it was a beautiful downhill run to the finish in Prades. And that was that for Cols, well not strictly speaking. on Day 5 we went over St Pierre and Ternere, but compared to what had gone before these were pimples. But the climbing wasn't quite over, having hit the Med at St Cyprien, the Coast road started to get a bit lumpy, and there was a final little hump to get over before the run in Cerbere.

The Pyrenees' have a feel all of their own. Only the Tourmalet and Paiheres get serious beyond the tree line and though often vary steep the gradients felt more variable than the Alps or Dolomites. The roads were often narrow, and one had to be serious alert to livestock. On the Tourmalet climb we got stuck behind a farmer herding his sheep, and narrowly missed being pursued by Llamas. On the descent of the Paiheres but for a shout from the rider in front I would have piled head long into three riderless horses ambling slowly up the mountain.

It was possible to sit in a gear and ride to a heart rate generally, compact chain sets and 28t rear cassettes have probably done much to tame these brutes. The idea of tackling the Tourmalet on a barely made road, with a single speed bike like Octave Lapize did in 1910 is quite a different concept.

Tuesday 17 June 2014

Pyrenean Raid - Part 1, of probably many


I got back from France in the early hours of Sunday morning, in time for news of England's defeat and tweets about a rave at the old post office building by East Croydon. I have been putting off writing about the Raid since then, despite having kept a pretty decent diary while in France, basically because there was so much  I don't really know where to begin. So this will probably be rather rambling and unsatisfying to read but best thing is to make a start.

The Raid Pyrenean is a route from Hendaya on the Atlantic coast of Southern France, through to Cerbere on the Mediterranean, taking in 18 Cols and 730km along the way, including such famous climbs as  the Tourmalet, Aspin, and Portet De Aspet. it was devised by the Pau Cycling Club over 100 years ago though has only sprung to life in the 1950's. To Qualify as a Raider the course has to be completed in under 100 hours. Its a ride I have wanted to do  ever since I joined the Ports. Around 10 years ago there was a club trip to take this on, and was part of the club folklore by the time I became a Port. The story of that trip was immortalised by Graham Fife in his book The Beautiful Machine, in which he alleges he climbed the Peyresourde in the big ring, and who am I to cast doubt on such a claim. Anyway it has been on my list to do for ages, and a few times there has been talk of another club trip but it never quite happened. So this year me and Say decided to get on with it and book up. We started on the Monday 9th June at 9.00am with a group photo by the sea, and arrived in Cerbere shortly after noon on Friday 13th. In between was a fantastic cycling adventure, and one that I would recommend to anyone for wants to ride in the high mountains.

We travelled with Marmot Tours. The support they provided through their leaders, Graham and Tim turned out to be first rate. 14 were booked as part of our group, but only 13 started. By the time we left France there was still no news of no-show Peter. The group was an eclectic mix, including 2 anaesthetists, a hairdresser and a Rugby League correspondent amongst other things. We all assembled at the seashore for the customary photo to start the Raid.

To be continued.....

Wednesday 28 May 2014

This Land is our land for cycling

Many cyclists in the South East will remember a month or so ago that a group of residents in the New Forest started accusing riders of all manner of things (mostly being middle aged and wearing Lycra) and started a campaign to get a Wiggle Sportive curtailed. We have also heard various complaints from Surrey residents about closed road events and their view that their neighbourhoods are being treated as a race track. Even having the tour coming through seems to be cause for unhappiness to some.  While as a cyclist it is pretty clear which side of the fence I am on some recent debate about the housing shortage rather hardened my view.

A number of commentators have suggested that the London housing shortage is in part the result of the greenbelt. Land for housing is at a premium because planning rules that protect the greenbelt ensures a shortage of supply. This means that we all pay higher prices for housing because of it.  Now, I am not about to suggest I want the Surrey Hills or the Ashdown Forest turned into a new town but there is an interesting point at stake here. We, the masses of city dwellers are paying a premium for housing in part because there is a consensus that a greenbelt is a good thing. The implication is that the greenbelt does not only 'belong' to those who  have the good fortune to live there, but to mangle the words of Leon Rosselson, 'to be a common treasury for all.' The roads, the paths and the hills exist in their wonderful greenness because we want to retain this playground for walking, riding, cycling, or simply for the sake of the environment. But it is a gift we all pay for in sky high prices for our cramped urban homes. For those fortunate enough to be able to live in this place, accepting a few closed roads and making a few allowances seems a small price in exchange.

Tuesday 27 May 2014

Goodbye Lance, well his glasses at least.

A few years ago I went to Vision Express and asked if the did prescription glasses for cycling. I think I was there for an eye test and was sick of going off course in TT's because I couldn't see where the marshal was sending me. The young man got very very excited and told me about the great Oakley flak jacket glasses. He came back with these. He was so thrilled to have a cyclist in the shop to sell them to I felt mean rejecting them simply because they were Livestrong. ( random thought, I think I remember David Attenborough explaining in life on earth that in nature yellow and black = poisonous, ie wasps). Also I was too lazy to go elsewhere and the bird in the hand thing.... Anyway, I purchased and after I managed to ride over my normal glasses by mistake, the Lance glasses became my main pair. Time moves on, and Lance has confessed (ish)  and  now some years down the road I just can't be doing with it anymore.  I love the Oakley's but have ordered a nice plain black frame this time. So goodbye to Lance, his glasses at least.

Tour Wessex - On reflection

Last year a friend posted on facebook 'Tour of Wessex = Rain' and to be honest the weather has been one of the defining features of this three day mega sportive. Covering (officially) 335 miles heading north, south then west from Somerton its up there with the best Britain has to offer, and one of only a handful that actually attracts riders from overseas to ride it.

It has progressed a long way since I first did a couple of stages in 2007 as part of my training for the Marmotte. One senses that Pendragon Sports have got this down to a fine art.  Now as Shimano support vehicle is on hand to deal with practically any mechanical problem. Back in 2007 one of my friends was taken out by a broken chain, the other by a broken spoke and there was not much else for them to do than wait for the broom wagon. Now the feed stations are well stocked with decent grub (chicken tikka rolls work surprisingly well to take away that fruity clag of gels), back in 2007 on a freezing day in a down pour all they could offer was some energy drink at one feed. This time when riders got into trouble, as trivial as a puncture or as serious as the guy who went down with a suspected heart attack, trained motor bike marshals were there quickly to assist. In 2007 I remember us stopping to help a guy who had run out of tubes, was so cold he couldn't change his tyre anyway. One friend still describes that has is worst day on a bike. I also have a memory (possible false) that the only food available at the end of the stage were some cakes made by the WI. At that point more sweet stuff was a long way short of the mark. Now there is a good range of stuff from bacon baps to recovery shakes.

I have been back a few times, I completed all three days in 2008 but if I recall the final stage was cut to 100 miles because of rain and high winds. This year the first day kicked off in that fine tradition, but the second was dry and though rain was threatened for the third day it stayed away long enough for us to finish. All three stages are great in their own right, though in terms of scenery the final day is the treat, if you are able to enjoy it. A gently rising run-out take one the Quantocks (where I am convinced they added an extra climb in that wasn't on the route card) before taking us along the coast through Minehead and Porlock. While the brutal 1:4 climb out of Porlock is the 'classic' challenge of rider versus road, the ToW is sensible enough to use the Toll road up toe Exmoor, offering wonderful views out to see as one goes over the switchbacks to the top. Then out onto  the rolling road on the moor, followed by steep descents and sharp climbs. At the final feed there is a sense of having beaten the beast, ahead is 30 odd miles of more or less down hill to the end.

Clearly cycling is starting to get some serious traction with women. Given that this is long and tough event the huge increase in the number of women for 2008 is obvious, and they weren't doing the short route. I know because they were passing me. There is some kit that must be wonderful when out on the sunny roads of Southern Europe, it looks both more revealing and less attractive on a wet Saturday in Wessex when on dirty gravelly roads. And I am sure the 'Spiderman' cycling kit with matching jersey, shorts and leggings seemed like a great idea at the time but.....

The event brought home how for cyclists our playing field is the world, with all that can bring. The different landscapes, terrains offering endless variety and challenge, hard slogs and exhilarating thrills, and just stuff happening. 15 miles from home on the second stage we were stopped by cattle being moved across the road, this lasted abut 10 minutes, and apparently happens every year at this point. Like getting caught at the level crossing on the Paris-Roubaix, the world goes on around us.

Sunday 4 May 2014

London By Sea- Sussex CA G25/93

Under the CTT codings G courses are 'London South', I have heard Brighton described as London on Sea and in the world of Time Trialling it can be pretty much true. The G25/93 out of Steyning, having take you up through Partridge Green and down the A24 to Washington heads out to the fringes or Shoreham before turning back in land. 
I have never ridden this course before as a 25 but have horrible memories of parts of it. The last 30 miles of the SCCU 100 features these roads heavily. The drag along the A24 has in its time been a personal Calvery.
Today's event boasted a celebrity entrant in the form of DrHutch, sadly he decided to give if a miss. It's not a course for a moral boosting fast time but it was a decent enough morning though some of the skinnier whippets like Brighton's James Stone were shivering a little. 
Events at the start had an extra level of excitement as there was a triathlon in Steyning at the same time. A poor Marshall for that event kept trying to send me into the transition area when I was trying to warm up.
I felt pretty good, and it's amazing how much easier a road can feel when you haven't got 70 miles in your legs. Steady improvement continues with a 1.04.36. Winner was Brighton's Steve Kane with an impressive 53.

Wednesday 30 April 2014

Pink Rifles and Kitchen knives

The Guardian has been showcasing photos by the Dutch artist An-Sofie Kesteleyn of American children posing hard faced with child sized rifles in shocking pinks and blues. It is a nifty art project and the images are unsettling, especially knowing the weapons may be small but are real all the same.  The article references accidental killings and  the bizarre American certainty they need guns for protection. It is familiar stuff, but all a very long way away. There are things closer to home that worry me far more. Let's unpack this a little.

The pink rifles may be distasteful to many, but growing up I spent many happy hours shooting air pistols and rifles. If somebody had given me a .22 rifle I would have been delighted. From what the article says these kids fire their little guns at rifle ranges, probably a lot safer than what me and my brother did in the back garden. In the end I got bored and grew up. There were lots more interesting things out there than shooting Dad's old beer cans. It helped that my parents weren't gun nuts or survivalists, but presuming the parents of the children in these pictures are is also a hefty presumption.

What I find much more frightening is the young people in London who feel they need to carry knives for protection. That is a thought process that leads to very real tragedy in our streets. A couple of years back through my work I came face to face with this when two of my residents children were killed in gang violence. Nobody was carrying a gun, just knives. Kesteleyn has done a good job of her photo project and her work is enjoying recognition. But before we get too judgemental of these chubby kids and their parents, let's take a hard look at our world.

La Course, La Tour sealed with a kiss

For those unfamiliar with the traditions of professional cycling it retains a strange archaic ritual where the winner is attended to on the Podium by 'Podium Girls', normally two. The money shot being a picture of the victor waving his trophy (and or cuddly toy) while being kissed on either cheek by the girls. In terms is of symbolism it's all pretty single entendre. In launching La Course, a women's race on the final day of the Tour De France, the organisers, ASO have been eager to share the news that the winners with be greeted by 'Podium Boys.' Hurrah for equality. Hopefully the women will have more class than Peter Sagan, photographed last year taking a sneaky grope. But in these enlightened times surely this doesn't go far enough. Surely the victor should be able to select their gender of choice for that all important peck, or should they wish, one of each. Equal love and all that. Alternatively let's take the opportunity to consign this toe curling tradition to history and pay more attention to tackling the huge inequality within the sport.

ASO are also making a lot of noise about offering equal prize money for the men's and women's race. Ok, don't mean to be snarky but.... Yes, the prize money is equal to that of the man who wins the final stage of the TdF. It dodges the challenge that ASO as yet do not run a Women's TdF, because, well it's all too hard. The man who wins the TdF will earn vastly more. The pay, appearance fees and sponsorship enjoyed by even mid ranking male pro's dwarfs what the women get, even the very best. In terms status and rewards women's cycling is where tennis was before Billie Jean King. A big part of this is women's races, even  when they do exist, do not enjoy serious coverage. Rather than jokey patronising press releases about podium boys, those organising the big races, and the UCI who sanctions them need to move into the 21st Century.

Tuesday 29 April 2014

Flight for Life - Refuge and Jenny Smith

http://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2014/apr/28/domestic-violence-first-womens-refuge-saved-my-life?CMP=fb_gu

Away from the fun cycling and music things that I like to write about I was moved by this article from Jenny Smith. The role that Refuge plays in supporting the victims of domestic violence is now well known, but two things struck me about this story. The first was how all the other services Jenny had reached out to in 1973 simply pushed her back to face more violence. But secondly how little this subject is talked about even today. While Jenny thanks Refuge for saving her life, something like two women a week are still being killed by their partners. 40 years on from Jenny's escape the problem has not gone away.  


Monday 28 April 2014

Back Home? Addiscombe 25 27.4.14

Sunday's Addiscombe 25 was run on the G25/53 out of Broadbridge Heath. If there is any course I consider home this is it. It was where I did my first open TT (and went off course, turning back only when I saw the M23 slip road), and where a couple of years later on a lovely September morning  I went under the hour. If the rumours are true this course will not be around for much longer. Development in the area is happening apace, with new roundabouts and slip road appearing. Along with this major road works will be kicking in from the summer. All progress I guess but I will be sorry if the G25/53 is a casualty.

Not that the course exactly spoils us. Yesterday was wet with a wind that just seemed to never do you any favours. With lots of standing water it was as Bashers said, a day of 'tiptoe round the roundabouts' or risk ending up like Dan Martin in the L-B-L. However it nearly didn't happen for me. I got up in time, and was sitting reading the paper and eating breakfast. I checked my watch, 6.15, maybe should start thinking about leaving soon. It the dawned on me,  I was off at 7.32!! I reached the hall flustered at 7.10. Addiscombe's Andrew R Green kindly pinned my number on as I signed the start sheet. I the end I got a mighty 8 minute warm up riding to the start.

Bash was already on the road and Paul King was due to go off a little later. The upside of tearing around late was that I did not get the chance to brood on the crappy weather, and just got on with it. A couple of days before, Des at Cadence had worked on my position and warned me to expect it to feel a bit strange, but once I had finally warmed up and got into my stride it felt pretty good. I could have dug a bit deeper, but my 1.5.20 marked a bit more progress.

Paul King came in with a 1.4.47 but top dog was Bash with a 1.1.12, and excellent time on a tough day. Pete Tardros won well with a 53.49.

Monday 21 April 2014

Palace, Pulis and thoughts on staying up

Please forgive this even more self indulgent that usual ramble. So Palace are staying in the Premiership, at as the press like to remind us, the fifth time of asking. So I have been thinking about what was different about this term, other than bald fact of survival, compared to the others.

So here we go. 1992-93
The suggestion that Palace have never stayed up in the Premier League was always a bit of a cheap shot. The relegation in 92/93 was in its inaugural year, and Palace had been in the top flight since 89/90. It was a once great squad that had declined steadily, so tells us little about the current vintage but may be a cautionary tale for what happens of one lets the grass grow under your feet. Though still a strong squad players had been allowed to go, most notably Ian Wright without the money being reinvested that wisely. Despite looking good enough to avoid the drop, a freak set of results sent us down on 49 points. It was also the first time when Steve Coppell betrayed a frailty that would reoccur every so often, and ultimately prevented him reaching the managerial heights he once looked capable of. It seemed he would reach a point of despair, when he no longer knew what to do. It would resurface during is brief stint at Man City and again at Palace in 97/98.

94/95 - The Cantona Year
The core of the premiership squad retained from 92/93 allowed CPFC to bounce back at the first time of asking, and being promoted as champions I expected us to make a decent fist of our return. Like the current team the problem was scoring goals. Chris Armstrong had scored 23 goals to get us up, but suffered a very public drought once there. Like the current squad there was a great keeper and a strong defence.  But unlike the current team there was also a lack of quality in central midfield. Southgate was played out of position (a mistake Keegan would later make as England Manager), and Ray Wilkins limped off during his debut never to return. Dowie's arrival up front and Ray Houghton were the right answer, but they arrived too late. At heart it was a team that should never have gone down. Alan Smith's limitations as a manager would be exposed on his return a few years later but it was a squad that deserved better. Making the semi final of both the League and FA cup in a season when 4 went down to shrink the Premiership the joke was 'Palace made the last 4 of every competition they entered' haha.

97/98 Brolin, Brolin, Brolin
This was the season I feared we would repeat. Up through the playoffs, our best player ( then David Hopkin) as this year (Zaha) was committed to moving on. The squad was hugely underpowered for a top flight now corn fed on foreign talent. Unlike this time frantic buying seemed to work at first, if only away from Selhurst, with Lombardo, Shipperly and Warhurst all playing well and us holding our own. Unlike this time, practically every quality signing (and a few that weren't) promptly got injured. I shudder to think where we would be now if Jedniak, Puncheon, Ward and Bolasie had all limped off like this lot did. Chaos descended as increasingly desperate throws of the dice brought in the likes of Brolin and Padavano. The sight of Brolin running around with a comedy bandage around his head, being laughed at by the away fans is still probably my most humiliating experience at Selhurst. We were a shambles. One huge difference this time has been home form. On 19th April 2014 we secured premiership safety, the bedrock of this had been wins at home. On 20th April 1998 I was there for our first home win of the season. On paper by the end of the season we had a great squad. Lombardo had shown some real affection for the club, and the likes of Marcus Bent and Matt Jansen had come in, and a young Clinton Morrison was coming through. But this was all washed away by the combination of fate, Mark Goldberg and Terry Venables.

2004/5 - Andy Johnson
Another playoff promotion, but one powered by a surge in form midway through the campaign. In many ways this was our most competent effort to say up until this year, and we ultimately took it to the final day. The squad that went up was not that strong, but in Andy Johnson we had be best striker to pull on the red and blue since Mark Bright. Unlike Clinton Morrison and Chris Armstrong, Johnson could score goals in the top flight, or with his incredible pace win penalties. That much of the first team (Routledge, Watson, Boyce, Soares and Johnson) went onto solid top flight careers suggest it was an opportunity missed. Unlike the current side it relied on one trick, AJ's goals, and lacked a mental toughness under pressure. Fitz Hall and ultimately fatally Leigetwood gave away too many free kicks around the box and games we should have won ended as draws.

I was afraid this season, however much it is good to go up turning up week in week out to watch your team get battered is miserable. With Glen Murray injured and Zaha sold all I wished for a the team to fight relegation bravely and retain its pride. It started as I feared. Our victory of Sunderland was indicative of just how bad DiCanio's regime was. Then, with Pulis in the wings we got a draw with Everton, maybe we could get more points. Pulis arrived and the rest is history. So what is different now. Starting at the top, the current Chair seems to have more about him than Goldberg or Jordan. His achievement in convincing Pulis to take the job has been key. Curiously the completeness of Holloway's failure worked in our favour. A marginally better start and we could be in the situation that Swansea and Norwich have brought upon themselves. If the right change had been made earlier in 92/93, 94/95 and even 97/98 there may have been an escape route.

But is was not all about Pulis. Previous managers (Dougie Freedman rather than Holloway) had bought well. The squad came up blessed with a central midfielder in the shape of Mile Jedniak who is of premiership quality. Not since Geoff Thomas left have we had a player of this quality to build around. Behind him Delany, Ward and Speroni were the core of great defence, that good signings have further strengthened. With Zaha grabbing headlines Bolasie was a bit of a secret to all but the Palace faithful. His partnership with Puncheon as given Palace a level of flair, especially in the last quarter of the season to hurt teams. As well as giving the team belief and a mental toughness Pulis's way highlight something very important. Top flight teams if you let them take the lead will simply keep the ball and watch you run around. But, keep the scores level, or even pinch a lead you can get at them on the break. We have never come from behind to win. This round head approach was beginning to look a bit wobbly until the turning point at home to Chelsea. Ultimately when the chips were down this is a team that now believes in itself. Despite at the huffing and puffing the difference between the teams outside the Europe chasing behemoths is small. The difference between the 1-0 and the 1-1 draw are small but crucial. The recent wins against the likes of  Everton and Chelsea with be remembered, but survival was chiselled out of 1-0's with Villa, West Ham, Stoke and Hull.

Dan Martin - Flag of Convienence

There are reports going round of a 'controversial' interview given by Dan Martin's uncle, Stephen Roche. In this interview Roche has suggested that Martin chose to represent Ireland rather than Britain as a cyclist just to advance his career. By far the most shocking thing about this story is that it is in anyway considered controversial. As  I recall Martin has always been pretty open. His decision to ride for Ireland was at least in part motivated by a lack of support for road racing from a track focused British Cycling. That he doesn't settle down each night under a tricolour duvet humming 'A Soldier's Song' hardly marks him out as unusually unpatriotic.

For decades now athletes who have the option have frequently selected the nationality that offers them the best career opportunities. England's cricket teams have relied for decades on players who may be British by passport but South African by accent. Jack Charlton's 'plastic paddy' world cup squads on the 90's was almost as overt in its willingness to embrace players with tenuous connections (or none in the case of Tony Cascarino). In cycling Britain happily embraced the likes of Michael Wright, a Belgian who had to take English classes so he could talk to his team mates. And of course Chris Froome is probably is a current case from Martin's own sport.

Increasingly the notion of Nationality is going to be hard to pin down. There was the case a few years ago when the much of the British team at the cycling road race world championship followed their trade team loyalties and rode in support of the Italians rather than doing their plucky best for the home grown also ran. The best footballers from around the world are coached and developed by European Clubs whether they are African, Korean or even Brazilian. And they are playing alongside each other every week. Globalisation both of the labour market and of sport will increasingly mean athletes will be able to choose their nation, and national differences between sports will narrow.

In this environment there will be a hierarchy of national teams across a sport. Of course there will always be sports people who feel such a strong national allegiance that even if offered the option they could not represent any other nation. But plenty will simply go for the best offer, which normally boils down to 'which is the best squad I have a decent chance of getting into.' And why not. These are professional athletes. In opting for Ireland Dan Martin has done nothing new, unusual or unreasonable. If their is anything controversial about the story it is that the rather spiteful comments come from Stephen Roche, a cycling legend and a member of Martin's own family. That he was stating the bleedin' obvious is less so.

Friday 18 April 2014

Crawley Wheelers Sporting 41.59 - Back to sparrow's fart

With British Summer time now locked in, its goodbye to post 9am start times for us Testers, and a return to leaving home while loved ones are still tucked up in bed. I recall a TT in Horsham a few years back when during my warm up I found myself racing an owl. In truth I didn't mind the early get away today, it meant I would be safely on my way before my fellow City dwellers started storming towards the coast for bank holiday fun and games.

Anyway, this course, the GS/196 was a new one on me. When I mentioned it to James Stone of Brighton Excelsior (something of a Guru on all things cycling as far as  I am concerned) I got a laugh and a wry smile. The main benefit of doing a 41 mile time trial is that it makes 25 mile TT's feel shorter, and 'sporting' designation for this one told me I was not in for a moral boosting fast time. Despite the sun, it was a chilly start, with envious glances being cast towards those with the foresight to pack full finger gloves and knee warmers.

Starting from Handcross it opens with a long section with a fast downhill bias, building lots of baseless confidence. It levels out, but while there a few sections where on can push a big gear and get a nice rhythm this are the exception. Lots of short rises to stop you getting to comfortable. But the real sting is in the tail, and the tail is about 8 miles long and very stingy. As Dave Churchill of Bigfoot said, 'I was on hour pace after 40km.' Erm yes. Because all that lovely fast descent at the start has to be paid for with a long drag uphill into a headwind at the end. That chequered flag just never seemed to what to appear and time ticked by.

I came in with at 1.57.48, which I was pretty happy with as had been able to go the distance without dropping off in the final 10 . Dave C wasn't thrilled with his 1.50.09, noting dryly that if he had done a personal best he'd have an excuse to never come back. But as he as entered a lumpy little TT around Devil's Dyke on Monday, I suspect he is made of sterner stuff.

The winner was the ever marvellous Steve Dennis with a 1.37.12, an excellent performance on genuinely testing sporting course. Have to say a big that you to Stuart Nisbett and his team from Crawley Wheelers for putting on a fine event. It is a tricky course and the marshalling was universally excellent. 

Sunday 6 April 2014

Weather Forcasts and the Redmon 25

In my way of dividing up the racing season, the Redmon 25 is the start of Time Trialing proper. January and Feb kicks things off with the Reliabilty Trials (that didn't really happen this year tbh), March is all about the sporting courses, Hardriders and the like.

Today was also the 3rd round of SEWTTS, with another strong field of women riders. They enjoyed the dubious pleasure of going off first. Rebecca Slack, the mastermind behind SEWTTS earned the Michael Fish award for optimistic and inaccurate weather forecasts, with an early tweet suggesting that the women riders would miss the rain. Hmmm, as I arrived the first salvo of women riders were on their way. Their grim faces, and the work my windscreen wipers were having to do, suggested that whatever she turns her hand to a glittering career in the met office doesn't await.

The course was a new one on me, and a change from previous years, the G25/46. On a first acquaintance I can't say I liked it much. But the combo of wet, nagging cross winds, and headwinds probably did not let me see it at its best. I was the only Old Port in this one. The other Testers either in deepest Kent or applying salvon to their cobbled parts in Flanders. It was a day to get through, and I managed a less than sparkling 1.08.09

For the Men, it was Conal Yates who I think came out on top, with a 54.44.  At the start he was my minute man, at the end, my 15 minute man. With the outstanding rider of SEWTTS round 1, Natalie Cresswick a DNS, there was a well fought battle for the women's prize.  However looked like Jasmijn Muller had good minute on the rest to finish with a 1.01.06 . Great rides by both the winners on a tough morning.

Sunday 30 March 2014

Home wins butter no parsnips at SCCU Sporting 25

'Scoring goals for Palace, John Terry, John Terry' ah heady celebrations in the Palace world.
It was only after the third pint of Guinness at the windmill on Saturday that it occurred to me I was meant to be racing in the morning. It had been emotionally draining enough without the beer and by the time I got home the arrival of the British summer and the loss of an hours kip was a growing cause for concern.
The G25/44 is the lumpy part of the 45 twice, and a course you need to attack with a bit of vim, something I was decidedly lacking. Also today we were treated to two sets of traffic lights. Two laps meant 4 potential stops. Nice.
The organisers were full of apology for something way outside their control. When my already unwilling body can across the first red on the A24 the motivation went a bit flat and never really returned.
Three ports had entred but Mr Warne decided he had other things to do, so it was me and Bash on parade, for what was weather wise a perfect morning, or as near to it as you can get in March.
Bash, by his own standards had a poor ride on the Bletchingly course last Sunday but put this behind him today. He had already laid to rest any doubts about his form with a PB for the sporting 10 on Saturday. Despite road works he came through the 25 in a commendable 1.02.43
I, lethargic and unwilling added a minor off course in the closing 2 miles to do a very humble 1.09.56
The young gun from Rapha JLT, Elliot Porter, took the win with a blinding 53.50
Great to see James Stone from Brighton racing today. Been too long.

Sunday 16 March 2014

Few thoughts on Tony Benn

A great deal of what Tony Benn stood for were the very things that made Labour unelectable, and what the party led by Neil Kinnock sought to remove in the 80's. For most of the 80's, 90's and noughties he was at best seen as an elder statesman of something long since passed. I recall a debate on blasphemy, where the debate revolved around whether the law should be repealed or extended to include other faiths such as Islam. His case was that his belief in socialism was as deep and profound as any Christian or Muslims faith, and nobody felt the need to protect socialists from ridicule. Why should religions be given special treatment. It was a well made point but at the time somebody talking about believing in socialism in that way felt as bronze age as the religions present.

The recession, loss of faith in the Thatcher/Blair capitalism and the Iraq war gave Benn's profile as bounce late in life, often from a generation who were too young to remember him as a potential party leader.

In the mid 80's I heard him speak a few times, when the tide was already against him. Looking back, its hard to imagine him as a politician in the modern world. Largely because when he spoke he spoke to our best intentions not our meanest fears and prejudice. The spiteful debates around immigration or hard working families, where the Party leaders compete to appeal to our worst instincts are so far from Benn's relentless optimism about people. A friend posted on facebook an inscription Benn had written in one of his books. It read 'The best is yet to be.' In the mouth of Cameron, Clegg or Milliband this would sound like an  election slogan to go down with all the other words they devalue. From Benn it was a sincere statement of belief in all of us. And for that, whatever his political weaknesses, I mourn his passing.