Tuesday, 30 August 2011

A short(ish) story about kite surfing, car crashes, going commando and crazy hair

Once upon a time there were four friends who regularly went on wind surfing holidays together: LCM, OH, Lady and Dr P. A few years down the line, there were suddenly ten of them, of which six were small people. They still went on holiday together, but had to go everywhere twice.

The second time to apologise.

Do not try ocean swimming when this lot are out
As windsurfing was slowly but surely overtaken by kite surfing in popularity, the four friends steadfastly stuck by the original sport. The kit remained as cumbersome as ever, the sails varied in size according to wind strength, and the boards became more fancy year in, year out. The most popular ones were called ‘Screamer’.

Screamer by name, not by nature, if you are a wuss on the waves
LCM duly did and bailed out. She decided kite surfing was the way to go, but her back had other ideas and reminded her that she should act her age, not her shoe size (which was already substantial anyway at a tidy 41). So she ogled the young fit things instead and their flying machines.

It was hard work.

The friends had hired two cars between them. LCM’s car came minus a rear windscreen wiper, with dials that were in the most peculiar places, scratches all round the paintwork and safety buckles that were reminiscent of a tin can junk modelling concoction made by a ten year old. It was a moving miracle on four wheels.

Lady and Dr P had a far better model. They crashed it.

Stop sign? What stop sign?
LCM was called back to the scene and asked to translate in her best Spanglian. The police turned up, LCM and Lady P were struck dumb by the officers who were over six feet in height and dazzling in uniform. They both donned multiple sparkly earrings. One was female.

Back on the beach there were torsos, tits and tattoos everywhere. OH and Dr P were transformed into lighthouses, not knowing which way to look with all the totty around. It became a great excuse to ‘watch the children’ under the pretence of doing something useful whilst observing the bountiful generosity on display.

Now if she really wanted something to doodle on
I could have lent her a drawing pad
Lady P kept her cool until a threesome in full view packed up to head home. One of the trio appeared to remove the lower half of her bikini as well.

Judge for yourself.

Please missus, don't bend over
Of course, not being one to pass judgement (*cough*), LCM also kept her cool and did her best to appear nonchalant about all the goings on. Until someone said she had crazy hair.

No. Really?

Surely this look will be acceptable in
office next week?
So the moral of the story is: don’t get your tits out* if your car is dodgy and your hair looks like you have stuck your fingers in electric voltage.

* And no, just for the record, I didn’t.

Sunday, 7 August 2011

Latest random conversations with my training partner(s)

I swear these become more absurd by the week day.

On Facebook.

BB - SOS. I desperately need a cyclist for London Triathlon relay with me TOMORROW. Any taker? I wanted the Wine Writer and London City Mum but they are not around... sniff sniff

No replies. Aside from one, male, in Brazil. Tsk

BB - Come on people. It is just 40k flat. It is just for fun!
LCM - My flight does not land until 8.30pm. Guess that'd be a little too late?
BB - You never know. I might be getting out of the water then.

Text messages.

LCM - Going to swim at Datchet tomorrow 6.30am. Coming? Our start time on Saturday is 17.40. From one extreme to the other.
BB - Bollocks to 17.40. Datchet tomorrow? To think about.* We'll speak later.
LCM - You are starting to sound like me. Can you write a blog post for me as well? Went for run yesterday, very slow and foot sore. Limping now although that may be due to very high wedges รก la BB today at work.

* Brazilian for "I'll have to think about it". Some things get lost in translation. Or texting. Or whatever.

The next day, after BB opts for pool swim and LCM pretends to go to Datchet.

LCM - Afraid I bailed on swim this morning. Foot sore and then rain meant I just rolled over and had another half hour in bed.

No answer.

Next day.

LCM - Happy to report I got my sorry arse out of bed this morning and went for swim at pool. Cannot let the side down! Although only two other blokes in my lane and they kept on lapping me. Must try harder.

No answer.

Next day.

LCM - You do realise that the top Olympic triathletes from around the world are competing tomorrow and our only saving grace is that they start at 08.36 vs our time of 17.40?

No answer.


LCM - Mrs Radio Silence, what time we heading to Hyde Park tomorrow?

No answer. 
LCM starts to panic, just ever so slightly.

Crazy door rap in early morning. It can only be one person.

BB (all smiles and jumping excitedly from foot to foot) - "So, you excited? This is going to be great!"
LCM (wondering how she got sucked in to this one, and cursing WW who is in deepest Norfolk) - "Uhmm. Sure!"
BB - "You don't look too convinced?"
LCM - "I still haven't had any breakfast."
BB - "Me neither! I'm going to the dry-cleaners, want me to take anything for you?"
LCM (contemplates handing over tri-suit, wetsuit, cycling gloves and other paraphernalia) - "No. Thank you."

Races comes. And goes. WW is cursed. A lot. 

Text messages.

LCM - Time of 1hr 46mins 56secs, so not too bad for an old bird.
BB - Well done! Official results? Where did you get them?
LCM - Online now. You were 1hr 39mins 59secs, absolutely brilliant.
BB - Yes!! Sprint was worth it :-)
LCM (takes long swig of well earned beer) - Watching men's elite live on BBC2 now. Slightly different set up for transition for these guys. No crowding or long distance run to get to their bikes!

On Facebook.

LCM - And the truth in numbers, aka BB doing zero training is still superior to me doing zero training. But at least I am a 'Prof' from Italy.


Thursday, 4 August 2011

Back shortly

In the meantime, I have been following the advice provided by my HR manager:


Yadda yadda yadda...