Monthly Archives: December 2016

Andrew

Books 2016 (Andrew)

Another break from normal service…

There’s only one contender for book of the year.

‘I Hate The Internet’ had the sarkiest writing.
‘High-Rise’ the best explanation of what actually happened in the incomprehensible film.
‘Annihilation’ the best homage to Robert Bloch’s Cthulu short story ‘A Notebook Found In A Deserted House’.
‘You Could Do Something Amazing With Your Life [You are Raoul Moat]’ and ‘In Plain Sight’ the darkest books (almost) written by Raoul Moat and Jimmy Savile.
‘Before The Fall’ was the best page turner I read this year.

But there was only one winner.

And it’s complete tosh.

But brilliant complete tosh – Jack Reacher in ‘Tripwire’, which in any shape or form is not a great book. But, this year, it’s the only book that attempted an audacious plot twist worthy of 20 years of waiting to find out how Hodor in Game of Thrones got his name…

SPOILER ALERT

… because it had Jack Reacher working on a building yard and developing chest muscles so big, so huge, so freakishly large, that you have no idea why Lee Child keeps referring to them until, 500 pages later, just as it looks like Jack will lose, he uses his chest to stop a shotgun blast and the pellets didn’t kill him because they couldn’t penetrate his big, huge, freakishly large chest.

Now that’s what you call great writing*!

(*It’s not, but bloody ‘ell, you’ve got to admire the commitment to write a 500 pages book built on the single idea that a man can pump iron so much bullets bounce off his chest. Go, Jack, go!)

#tomcruise #notmyReacher #shortarsebignose

Andrew

Music 2016 (Andrew)

MUSIC 2016

The problem with streaming music is that you can’t lie to yourself anymore. I’d like to think I’ve got an eclectic musical taste and seek out new and interesting music. This year (excluding all the obviously great chart stuff) I’ve loved:

Sensible Soccer – AFG
White Lies – Hold Back Your Love
Clint Mansell – High Rise OST
Frank Ocean – Nikes
Savages – Adore
Justice – Randy
Thrice – Black Honey
Mitski – Your Best American Girl
The Slow Show – Strangers Now
Sing Street – Crash It Like You Stole It

But, despite this, according to Spotify, the song I loved most of all was Pillowtalk by Zayn.

Or ZAYN, as he calls himself, presumably while shouting: “MY NAME IS ZAYN, NOT Zayn. ZAYN!”

Or his caps lock key is broken on his laptop.

Either way. He’s a TWAT.

However, as I suspect Lesley may have played a small part in Zayn, sorry ZAYN, being my most played song of the year, I’m going to chose my second most played song: I Am Chemistry by Yeasayer, a song that even now many, many listens later I still have no idea what they’re singing about and why halfway through a children’s choir joins. Barkingly Brilliant.

Andrew

Films 2016ish (when I watched them not when they were out) (Andrew)

A break from normal service… 🙂

Fake news. Post-truth. Just as the real world becomes a work of fiction so our works of fiction have become obsessed with reality.

Take Oscar nominated films: Spotlight was based on a true story; The Big Short was based on a true story; The Revenant was based on a true story; and Bridge of Spies was based on a true story (though not an actual Bridge of Spies, it was made of iron, not double agents).

Even The Martian, a film about a man on Mars, loudly proclaimed how real it was – “It’s exactly what would happen!” – as it showed exactly what would happen to a botanist on Mars left with just a greenhouse, some seeds and book called “What To Do If You’re A Botanist Trapped On Mars With Just A Greenhouse And Some Seeds”, which was handy, and realistic. While one of the best reviewed UK films was I, Daniel Blake. A poignant and realistic film about a man filling in a form. If this trend continues, I can’t wait to see the latest Transformers film next year: I, Optimus Prime, a film about a giant flying robot truck applying for disability allowance in Sunderland because it can’t find a job as an industrial welder. I’d pay to see that.

But, as films became more realistic, and, let’s face it, more boring. Spotlight: a two hour film about paperwork. The Revenant: a two and half hour film about it being bloody cold out there when it snows. Bridge of Spies: A two hour film about paperwork and it being bloody cold out there when it snows. Zzzzzzzzz. My favorite film this year is one of pure escapism instead. My favorite was the fantastic half film half musical Sing Street; about a boy starting a band in Ireland during the 80s just to impress a girl. Great songs, great story and the best/daftest escape plan in movie history as two characters recreate Dunkirk with nothing but a dream, a boat and Boy George’s eyeliner. Loved it! Go and watch it now! Go on, go on, go on, go on!

Honorable mentions:
Central Intelligence, Mistress America, Ex Machina, Inside Out, Civil War, Whiplash, Force Majeure, Pride, When We’re Young, Cinderella, Wiener and Midnight Special

Andrew

Pop goes the weasely hip (Andrew)

“I’ve had a problem with my right hip. Just a wee niggly pain. I’ve rested it for a month and, before I go home for Christmas, I thought I’d get it checked to make sure it’s all fixed.”

And, with that, I removed all my clothes except my boxers.

Just to be clear, I was prompted to do that.

I don’t just rip off my clothes at the drop of a hat, jumper, trousers and socks. I booked a visit to a physio in Larbert, one I’d been to before so I knew the routine. I would say what was wrong with me. She’d say strip. I’d strip then she’d prod me with her thumbs and make me scream.

Again, just to be clear, she asked first if it was okay to prod me. Though I think “prod” is not the medical term. Her term might have been “apply pressure to the muscle to cause it to release” but, whatever the right term, the effect was the same. She prodded my back and then I screamed.

But that was just the start.

“Your right leg is tighter than your left.”

“I know,” I said “I can never get money out of my right pocket.”

She didn’t laugh. I assume she hadn’t heard.

“Lie on your side. Bend your knee. Raise your arm. Put your hand here. Keep that leg straight.”

I try and follow but it feels like I’m trying to re-create a chalk outline of the Hunchback of Notre Dame.

“Don’t worry if you can’t manage it,” she said, “just breathe out.”

I did.

And she pushed down on my knee.

Just to be clear, she didn’t ask me first. It was assault. A vicious attack. An unproved invasion of my physical space and a –

POP!!!!!!!!

WTF!

A balloon had exploded. The planet had exploded. I’d just heard the Big Bang.

“That’s it,” she said, “got it, you’re cured!”

And I was. I couldn’t feel any pain. Whatever had popped had stopped whatever was niggling the jiggling of my legs and hips.

It was a miracle.

But, blimey, it hurt. But at least it was over. Done.

Then she said the five words you never want to hear from a physio.

No, not “It’s not meant to crack!”

Or “Let’s call the Doctor now.”

Or “Can I cup the balls?”

It’s worse. It’s “Let’s do the other side!”

No!!!!

Iain

All I want for Xmas is sunscreen (Iain)

He’s making a list,

And checking it twice,

He looks again!

He can’t believe the price!

Santa Claus is buying prezzies for triathletes!

Ho, ho, ho! Merry Xmas!

It’s the time of year my mum asks what I’d like for Xmas and I say “How about this saddle for my bike?” I show her the saddle and she goes “HOW MUCH!!!”

In fairness, I said the same when she said she’d like Jo Malone perfume.

It’s easy to get a present for Andrew. I just get something I’d like myself. That way – if he doesn’t like it,  I keep it!

This year, I’ve found the perfect present for Celtman: Sunscreen.

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Lifesystems-Active-Protection-Cream-200ml-x/dp/B0050DD74S/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1481712678&sr=8-1&keywords=jellyfish+repellent

You may wonder why he needs sunscreen for a race famed for its lack of sun. This sunscreen is special. Not only does it prevent sun burn it also repels jelly fish! Celtman is famed for its jelly fish so this would be the perfect gift except for one thing…

Celtman is an extreme triathlon! It’s not a cuddly triathlon. It’s not going to give Andrew a hug and tell him everything’s going to be okay! He’s supposed to suffer.

Giving him sunscreen would be against the spirit of the event.

So, I’ve ordered a different sunscreen. One which will make his swim extreme. I don’t want to spoil his Christmas surprise by saying which one it is but I will reveal one thing – it was really difficult to find one containing a jellyfish aphrodisiac!

Andrew

Celtman Day 0 (Andrew)

Celtman training began today, unofficially. Officially, it will begin on Christmas Day with a jog around Stornoway – the Christmas Day Stornoway jog is the traditional start of training.

So, today’s 10 miles on a Turbo was just a warm up. A warm up to the proper training in three weeks. That’s why I checked my email, watched a couple of trailers on YouTube and generally didn’t actually do anything that resembled training. Because training hasn’t started, at least not officially.

(Which is good because I was knackered!)

Iain

Top 5 things people have thrown at me when running/biking (Iain)

It’s not every day a yogurt lands on my head.

In November 1995 I was walking along a street in Edinburgh, minding my own business whilst listening to a Sony mini-disc. That was state of the art back then. But, before I could say “Is that a Muller lite falling from the sky?”, a Muller lite had fallen from the sky and landed on my head leaving its trail of too-sweet-tasting-creamy-awfulness across my forehead. I looked upwards.

A man was laughing from a third floor window. He had a spoon. I guess he was the yogurt chucker. As much as I was shocked to have been “Muller’d” I was impressed with his aim. I’m sure I’d miss If I tried to throw an non-aerodynamic yoghurt pot at someone from a height of 30 ft.

I never found out why he threw it but, this week, I was reminded of him when I read that someone was throwing things at cyclists who use a local bike path. Its awful that they’re doing that. I hope the police catch them but it does let me list the top 5 things that have been thrown at me when biking/running.

5 -Verbal Abuse/Comedy

Sometimes it’s not physical objects thrown from vehicles but verbal ones. Whilst biking this week I passed two school girls eating chips. One shouted “OH MY GOD! I’m going to marry you!” and then ate a chip.

Which was a nice offer but I’d rather she’d proposed in a more romantic manner than over a poke of chips!

Its also amazing how many times cars (but mainly van) drivers wind down their windows to shout”Run Forrest! Run!”

4 – Snowballs

One Xmas, whilst jogging, in the east end of Glasgow I passed a group of youngsters. My Spidey sense kicked in – I instinctively knew they were going to pelt me with snowballs as soon as I was far enough away to hit but not close enough to run after them!

I counted to three in my head and braced myself for the inevitable pelting. I got pelted. it was sore!

3 – Waterpistol

Whilst jogging near Kelvingrove a van pulled up next to me. The passenger opened his window and shot me with a water pistol. The van drove off. I was too shocked to do anything! To this day I can still hear the passengers shout “HAHA!”

2 – Yoghurt

Surprising this was not the most unusual thing to hit me.

Number 1 is …..

1 – A fish and chip supper. 

Yes. Honest! I once was assaulted with a fish and chip supper. It was whilst jogging in the meadows in Edinburgh. I stopped at a t-junction. As a car turned and passed me a fish and chip supper was thrown out. It hit me in the stomach.

Is it a crime to throw a fish and chip supper at a stranger? Yes. Probably. But the biggest crime is to throw a fish and chips supper away without eating all the chips? This is Scotland. You don’t throw away chips!

Andrew

American Football Is Just Cycling With Shoulderpads (Andrew)

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American football is exactly like cycling.

I know this because I went to an American football match last week and it was exactly the same as watching the Tour De France. Don’t believe me? Here’s the evidence.

And, remember, this is based on my experience of one whole game of American Football, so this is almost scientific fact.

Evidence number one: both sports have a star man, a fast man, and a fat man who does all the heavy lifting

In American Football it’s all about the Quarterback, the leader, the main man controlling the action. His fast wide receivers are the ones who make a spring for the line. The hulking linebacks protect him from attack. In cycling it all about the GC leader, the main man controlling the action. His sprinters make the spring to the line and the hulking domestiques use their strength to protect the leader from attack.

Evidence number two: it goes on forever and nothing much happens until something happens

American Football last over three hours. Most bike races last three hours. And for most of the time, nothing happens. The peloton rides serenely on. The team has a time out and a natter in the middle of the stadium. Nothing happens!

And then something happens. And you’ve missed it because, really, who can watch any sport for three hours?!?!

Evidence number three: all supporters dress in silly costumes and get really, really drunk

In America being a mascot is pointless. Why pay someone to dress up and dance around the stadium when the whole stadium is filled with people who have dressed up and dancing around for free? Everyone dresses up. It’s would be like employing a man to shout “the Referees a wanker” at any football (proper, UK football) game? There’s no point. There’s 20,000 people already doing it.

Instead, attending an American Football game is basically Halloween meets P.E.  Muscle suits. Captain Americas. Soldiers. Gladiators. Anything except footballers.

Just like in cycling. Where muscle suits, Captain Americas, Soldiers, Gladiators and anything except cyclists dot the roads of Europe like Comic-con road-kill.

Evidence number four: the rules are completely incomprehensible

I’m not even going to try and explain American Football because, well, I don’t know how. Something to do with going forward and getting to the line first.

As for cycling. Again, no one really knows the rules. Sometimes you can grab a bottle and hang onto a car and sometimes you can’t. But what I do know is that the whole race is about going forward and getting to the line first.

Evidence number five: no one knows what’s going on

There’s faints when someone pretends to do something so the other team reacts. But they weren’t doing that, they were doing this, or not doing anything at all. Also, you can watch the leader but actually all the actions happening elsewhere and he’s not involved at all.

Basically, see number five.

Evidence number six: they’re all on drugs*

*For legal reasons I cannot substantiate this claim**

** We all know it’s true.***

*** Except for Bradley Wiggins.****

**** He definitely didn’t do anything. And not with that bag. Or those drugs. Or that week before the Tour De France. No, sir. Not him.*****

(***** He did it.)

Evidence number seven: both sports are about going a set distance

In American Football it’s all about getting 10 yards then 100 yards. In cycling it’s all about kilometres. Which, when you think about it, is all topsy turvy. Surely, in Europe, home to the classics and traditions and a century of always doings things the same way, we’d have yards, and, in America, where everything is in metric system, they’d have kilometres. It’s all mixed up. Which just goes to show both sports are nothing like alike. One is American and incomprehensible and the other is not.

Simple.

Andrew

Escape From Alcatrazman (Andrew)

Damn.

That’s all I can say to that.

Damn.

I entered three race ballots this year. The first was Norseman, which I didn’t want to race, but I did want to increase my chances in the future as every failure to be selected gives you an additional chance in the next ballot.

So, I was successful. Not because I was selected. But, because I was not selected, which was the selection I wanted, if you know what I mean. I won by losing.

The second was Celtman. This one I wanted to win. And I did by winning, not losing, and being lucky enough to be selected to race in 2017.

The third was Escape From Alcatraz. This was a long shot. A ‘I’ll never get in but might as well enter cause you never know’ race. There are only 2,000 places. There are 10s of thousands of entrants. I had no hope of getting in… until I got in.

Two days ago I received this email.

untitled

Damn.

Escape From Alcatraz is a once in a lifetime race. A chance to jump off a ferry beside Alcatraz island (they can’t start on the island because of the current) and to swim back to shore next to the Golden Gate Bridge. An 18 mile closed road bike circuit and a 8 mile run follow. All in San Fransisco – a city I’ve always wanted to visit.

But there’s a problem. A Celtman shaped problem.

Escape From Alcatraz is the week before Celtman. It would be silly to try and do both, wouldn’t it? I should be tapering, not taking part in a triathlon half across the world.

But…

… could I just take it easy. Use the swim as good practice and use the bike and run as gentle exercises?

But…

… what about jetlag? I’m just back from the States. I flew 8 hours on Monday night to London, then had a four hour wait before a connecting flight to Glasgow. I was awake for nearly 36 hours after getting up at 10am (UK time) in the States on Monday and not going to bed until 10pm on Tuesday. I can barely muster the energy to walk today, never mind swim three miles, cycle 120 and run a marathon up and over two Munros.

But…

I want to do both!

But…

Can I do both?

Should I do both?

Hence…

Damn.