A Tale of Two Snacks…..

…….a greasy chip buttie and a chi chi chocolate muffin both consumed with equal relish this week in different circumstances but in  a common state of contentment and friendship. The chip feast came at the end of  super day of shopping and chatting around Manchester with an old friend from university days  when a chip buttie at the end of a night out was a norm not a treat. It was usually purchased from a traditional chip shop staffed by the most miserable couple in East Yorkshire  who  had clearly never read How to Win Friends and Influence People or opened the cover of  even the most basic food hygiene manual.  I like to think they retired to a caravan in Bridlington and spent their twilight years in companionable sullenness reminiscing about the many nights spent snarling at intoxicated students whilst relieving them of the remnants of their meagre grants… Oh yes we  come from the era of grants rather than loans..  happy days  indeed!

Prior to our razzle round the fabulous and crowded Manchester Christmas Markets we enjoyed a rather more sophisticated repast having a long and excellent lunch at the splendid Rosso Restaurant after an hours wandering and lusting in the more exclusive retail outlets of King Street.  Over lunch we discussed our current lives, our children, caught up on news of old friends and made  plans for a university reunion weekend in Manchester next year.

Purchases stowed in the hotel, we attacked the markets and gluhwein with gusto, and experienced Big Society in action as two for one vouchers on hot cocktails were circulated between total strangers in the excellent winter bar marquee.  We left two very happy young women sipping their hot vodka and cranberry with candy  canes courtesy of our recycled voucher as we went in search of  sustenance.  Our quest brought us to the fast food establishment of choice,  a splendid example of  Northern Quarter eclecticism with a menu encompassing a whole array of game curries including venison and duck.  But we are simple souls and opted for a purist approach, other than my friends insistence on garlic sauce, proving that we had come along way in 30 years… or maybe not.

Cycling wasn’t on the menu today, having risk assessed the wind speed coupled with the fact that the temperature was approaching that well-known indicator.. brass monkeys.. by common consent it was sidelined. Though there were several hardy souls pedalling away as we drove on a  rescue mission to retrieve an abandoned vehicle left overnight at a rather overhyped and overpriced Ribble Valley establishment.  Following the successful completion of the task we found ourselves enjoying great coffee alongside  an indulgent chocolate muffin and a rather dry bit of banana bread in a cosy and welcoming  local coffee shop. The food fare on offer was very different from the other evening  but what was the same, was the overwhelming sense of contentment in good conversation  common ground and understanding. My two snacks were with friends from different eras of my life,  the food was a world apart in taste and style but what was common to both  was that the food was secondary to the friendship. We meet new people all the time as we go through life and form new friendships, some last and some don’t, tastes may change, restaurants, chip shops and coffee places may come and go but if you find  good friends along the way then hang on to them because it doesn’t matter where or what you eat but who you do it with.

Deep Water

Deep water can be scary,  the fear of drowning, sinking  and what lurks beneath, but  you also need a bit of depth to float freely, to swim and to dive safely.  So while it’s  a bit of a contradiction it’s also a mirror of life. Comfort zones and safety blankets are great and we all like to return to them, but every now and then we need to throw off the blanket and push out into the scary deep water.  Sometimes this is forced on us – new job, unexpected changes in relationships, health issues, sometimes of our choosing and others forced upon us. As we strike out across the deep water sometimes we bottle it and return to the side and other times we find that actually we are quite at home out there and can touch the floor and it’s not so deep but strangely comforting.

Of course there is always the danger of coming unstuck and actually drowning so it’s always good to have a helping hand and a lifebelt nearby.  Today I have been out cycling – same distance as Cycletta, but with a teacake stop at the home of the Psychic Supper, with some of the people who have been my helping hands and lifebelts as we have pushed out into the deep water.  The Psychic Supper is still being advertised, I suppose the sign will self combust when all tickets have been ordered on the astral plane,  All the scones were sold out, however the coffee and teacakes were excellent, as was the company and even the weather. It was really excellent today to just cycle for the fun of  it chatting and catching up and not checking time and distance until we got home, pretty exhausted!

We have indeed  worked our way across the deep water and it is now scary that the Cycletta distance which had seemed  a major challenge at the outset was  today just a pleasure ride.  There are still challenges to overcome before I am totally comfortable in the deep water, hills are still there to be screamed at though less so now.  My current  freak out moments are the bridges on the canal , not the going  over them but the narrow bumpy paths under them. there lurk any number of trolls, cobbles, the possibility of the sudden appearance of dogs, small children or even worse intransigent OAP’s or ramblers who refuse to budge from the centre of the narrow path.  All of which mean that  images of me thrashing in the deep dark  foul water of the canal flash through my mind.  This was even worse when following a slight issue loading my bike onto the car rack my bell was immobilised meaning I needed to shout as I approached these areas of doom.  I now have a new bell which is reassuring, though it seems to have little effect on certain of the canal ramblers who steadfastly refuse to move an inch to allow safe passage. There is a particular type who  hearing the bell, turn and look, then freeze to the spot forcing those of us on two wheels to mount the slippery grass verge, making a  split second choice of veering towards a wall or the aforesaid murky waters.

However today I steadfastly rode under each bridge rather than doing my usual brake, scream  shuffle and scoot through, it still felt as if I was crossing one of those Indiana Jones type rope bridges over a ravine with crumbling slats, and to some it may seem a small and rather petty element but boy to me it was deep water indeed.

Sisterhood of sweat and scones

There are not many people for whom I would get out of a warm bed on a wild and windy Sunday morning with a Hurricane (or its tail) on the way.  However when I got the call this morning from one of my cycling sisters I did not hesitate, despite  having ridden with her the day before on a trip with a pace that had left me  sore and aching I agreed we should get out there and keep up our Cycletta practice. I admit that I was slow to haul my body from the pit and was not exactly my usual sunny self,  but fuelled with Oatibix I set off into the teeth of a gale to our rendevous on…you’ve guessed it… the canal.

So what made me not simply turn over and ignore  the phone  or answer and plead exhaustion and the call of the lesser spotted pile of ironing… well the need to make sure we can complete the course…. but also our sense of loyalty to each of us who have agreed to undertake this challenge. It would not have mattered which member of  Daft and Determined  made the call I would have answered and responded as would any of my fellow mad women. We are  not functioning as a traditional team, we are not rigid in our training schedules, we do not have timetables and stop watches, we do not all ride together, we have acquired a range of cycling buddies and companions who whilst not taking part in the event will be there and are just as much part of the team as those of us who will be pedalling round Cheshire – some of us for longer than others… We could not operate in a formal way  as we are all  busy, work ridiculous hours,  have full social lives, responsibilites to children, parents , cats and puppies so we just squeeze in what we can where we can and with whoever we can.

But despite all of that we are a team,  held together by the desire to achieve what we set out to do and to do it as a unit. We are indeed a sisterhood, and sisters are certainly doing it for themselves as we have learnt to firstly ride a bike again,  fit and load bike carriers to cars, attach the bungee elastic stretchy whatsits so they hold the bikes firmly rather than resembling a piece of macrame,  drive the cars with bikes attached, take front wheels on and off  (the bikes not the cars) and sort the brake wire thingy when you do so.

One thing we  have needed little instruction in is devouring carbohydrates with the now traditional cry of  ‘well we’ve earned it’  and as we have sweated – and it is sweat, none of the genteel perspiration stuff going on here -  pedalling up hill and down dale and along the canal paths, not to mention heaving bikes onto car carriers there has been one thing that has driven every single one of us on. Yes the reward at the end – or as yesterday a mid ride pit stop of coffee and scones. The toasted tea cake has become a firm favourite, however,  yesterday our rather refined coffee shop claimed not to have any – I think they were so horrified by our dishevelled state -  windswept and scary rather than windswept and interesting, that they thought denial would mean we would leave. But  we were undeterred  and settled for scones and very crumbly and yummy they were as well, providing perfect fuel for the return trip. Fuel we required to be able to put on a turn of speed as not only were the storm clouds gathering we knew we that passing a canalside hostelry at pace would be necessary to avoid the catcalls we recieved on the way out.

We cannot forsee exactly how our Cycletta event will go, what the weather will be like,  what time  we will achieve, though someone is clearly trying to tell us something.  As with our encounter with the invitation to the Psychic Fish and Chip night, as we were trying to make ourselves vaguely respectable  we noticed yet another invitation to a meal where presumably your choice of menu is pre ordered via the astral plane.

As I said we are not a team that meet regularly, have team talks and work to a framework but we have become a sisterhood with a common purpose and I don’t think we need to consult a psychic to tell us that we will cross the line together,  sweating and demanding scones with a chorus of   ‘we’ve earned it!

 

Ups and Downs

Life is full of ups and downs and not just the dreaded hills I keep encountering as I continue the training for the Cycletta in company of great friends and companions – definitely one of the Ups. This week has seen a combination of Ups and Downs including a minor Up as the scales dipped low at Fat Club – a miniscule drop but a drop nonetheless.  As the scales fall down there is a collective upsurge in spirit and  as a group we willingly embrace the challenge presented by our group leader of  ‘thinking out of the box’ regarding our diet. Even as I speak the supermarkets are being denuded of Mooli and Cassava- none of us, even our passionate and evangelical group leader, are exactly sure what we are going to do with them but  we all know that with a bit of galangal and followed by a Tamarrillo these ingredients will enable us to achieve new heights of culinary excellence and bring a satisfying Downward result on the torture platform next week.

A major Up was a return to the west coast for the Blackpool Ride the Lights event -  an unbelievably wonderful night of twinkly lights, illuminations, every possible type of bicycle – children on trikes, small bikes with stabilisers, mountain bikers and a few who clearly thought this was a stage of the Tour de France.  An illicit tray of chips and gravy as a reward was clearly one of the Ups – and possibly the reason for such a small Down on the scales.  A late night return  requiring unloading  and stashing  of bike by wheely bin was a bit of a Down as was next mornings early  alarm. However, in the best  tradition of Ying and Yang there was a major Up when 2 days later I became a cycling commuter. For the first time I cycled into the office and home again – with a little help from Fred the Granada weather man whose ace forecasting gave me the all clear and got me there and back in dry conditions.

Now this is where a couple of Downs come in, not just that I had to bottle out of riding home through the busy bus station area and walk to the canal rather than risk causing a major traffic incident  as I wobbled  between buses, cars, taxis, speed bumps and zebra crossings. Rather that as I cycled along the canal path in the sunshine I was struck by the number of people wandering along clutching a supply of cans of the alcoholic variety.  Now if they are heading for a day in the sun and some alfresco food and drink that’s great, but can they not take the litter home or to a bin?  The canal has some beautiful areas, as we have seen today on our 22km run, but there are areas which are full of litter and rubbish. Today as we came away from a magnificent Up with views that made your heart sing we entered areas where people were sitting in the midst of total rubbish whilst they fished in a section of the canal strewn with detritus. This  was a big Down – not even that they did not think to clear and clean their leisure area but that they chose to just sit in it.

The canal is one of the highways of the Industrial revolution, one of the arteries of the past wealth and heritage of the area and whilst some sections are lovingly restored and cared for others are testament to deprivation and disinvestment. Cycling just a  7 mile  stretch  takes you through the Ups and Downs of this area of Lancashire, countryside second to none, magnificent marinas, great coffee and cakes contrasted with dereliction and despair.

Needless to say we ended on an Up with coffee and the obligatory toasted tea cake in a lovely canalside bistro where I for one could reflect that having had to negotiate a couple of hills en route, as a result of effort and investment my Ups are getting easier and  my Downs are becoming almost exhilarating.  How nice would it be if we could say the same for the canalside community in a couple of years time?