Here comes the Sunn (groan)

I haven’t posted here in ages.  I thought continually posting about losing basketball games probably wasn’t that interesting and, to be honest, I’ve had lots of exciting other things to do, like feeling the kicks and shifts of my soon to arrive firstborn who is still expanding inside my wife.

What has got me sufficiently hyped up to put fingers to keyboard and resume my tenuous relationship with blogging?  A bike.  A bike I remember wanting during my early teenage years.  A silly, single geared, wrong size wheeled, French bike from a manufacturer which owned certain sub-disciplines of the MTB scene in the early to mid nineties.

I am talking, of course, about a Sunn.  A Sunn BMiX to be more precise; the bike which took elements of MTB and mixed (hence the name) them with BMX.  Actually, the size of the wheels (26”) is about the only MTB influence, everything else is BMX.

Last Friday I became the (overly) proud owner of a 1999 (I think) model BMiX in a fetching “French’s American Mustard” shade of yellow.  I’ve only ridden it up and down my road a few times, but it’s one of those bikes which just has a ‘feel’ of being right.  It wants you to hop it up the kerbs and to manual back down, it encourages the sort of hooligan riding that makes people look at you disapprovingly.  It is, in the year of my thirtieth birthday, making me feel like a youth.  I think that’s probably priceless.

Here it is:

Predictably Bad at Blogging

I thought when I started writing a blog that I would probably make it to six posts before I stopped doing it with any sort of regularity.  I made seven.  I know myself too well.

Since I last posted I have been having lots of fun on my bike(s), have not been having all that much fun on basketball courts, have been eating far too much crappy food and have had the incredible pleasure of seeing my unborn baby via the miracle of ultrasound.  It's not really a miracle, it's just really clever.

I'm unspeakably excited to be having a baby!  I am a rare example of the broody man, so knowing that my wife has our formative child inside her is aceness on a level I am at a loss to describe.  The due date is just under twenty weeks from now and we're already accumulating STUFF at an unbelievable rate.  People are very kind when you have a baby on the way, which is why up to now we've not actually had to spend any money on the aforementioned stuff.  I'm sure the crippling lack of cash will soon be upon us, but for now it is being held at bay by other people.

I don't even think I'm all that nervous about the imminent life changing arrival.  I'm sure I'll be metaphorically shitting myself just as much as the baby is actually shitting itself once it arrives though.  I've been reading all about how the last time anyone has all the answers about a baby is the moment prior to the arrival of their first born.  I can believe it.  I was next to a very new baby in the queue at the supermarket earlier today (it wasn't on its own, don't worry) and it was screaming its tiny lungs out; protesting, presumably, at the rude way in which it had been jettisoned from its nine month incubator and into the cold, wintry world.  That or it had realised early that ASDA sucks.  I was transfixed by this child, couldn't stop paying attention to it, but did find myself wondering exactly how long it would take for the novelty of that "cat in distress" type noise to wear off.

If my stamina for blogging is anything to go by, not long.  Poor prospective child of mine, you'd better develop some party tricks pretty quickly, or I might grow tired of you!  Still, I am at least easily pleased; I find pretty much everything babies do totally hilarious, though I have never yet had to deal with the apparent horror of a newborn's crap-filled nappy.  That may be where the humour ends.

It's also where this post is going to end, because my sausages and mash are ready.  Nom nom nom.

Getting Low & Slow in London

A stressful week at work meant two things:

1.  No blog posts since last weekend.
2.  Looking forward to a trip to visit family in London this weekend.

I'll gloss over the first thing; in all honesty I had originally predicted that I would lose interest after six posts, so I wouldn't have been surprised to never put anything else here.  Luckily, point two gave me something I felt was worth writing about.

Over the last couple of years I've been getting more and more enthusiastic about US style barbecue.  This summer I picked up a Weber kettle in a sale and had a few goes at ribs, pulled pork and brisket, as well as the more usual British sausage and burger barbecue.  Managing to serve up a passable attempt at some of the above have fed the addiction, as did the excellent Bristol Grillstock festival, where talented BBQ teams from across the country (plus one from the US) served up truly mouth watering concoctions to the hungry masses.

One of those teams represented the London BBQ restaurant chain "Bodean's".  So, as I was in London anyway I thought a visit to their full time premises was worth investigating.  The nearest one was in Soho, about two minutes walk from Oxford Street, and we were going there to do a bit of shopping anyway.

The restaurant is pretty unassuming from the street, and even once you're in the door it could really be any other restaurant.  Upstairs is what they term a deli, with the restaurant proper downstairs.  The menu ticked most of the boxes I was expecting: ribs, pulled pork, brisket, chicken, plus a range of steaks and burgers, plus an unexpected treat - burnt ends.

I went for a half rack of baby back ribs, plus some pulled pork.  The fries and coleslaw weren't really that important, but I suppose a meal of just meat wouldn't be too healthy.  My wife had the burnt ends and some pulled pork, while my brother in law kept it simple with just the pork.

This isn't a food blog so I'll keep the evaluation short: the pork was good, but not the best I've had.  The ribs were very tender, but didn't seem as flavourful as either the ones I've done myself or tried at Grillstock, the burnt ends were very, very good, with a nice dose of sauce and a really good texture.  The Bodean's own hickory BBQ sauce was ace, giving the pork a bit of tartness which I appreciated.  I was impressed; it is one thing for me to cook a couple of racks of ribs on a weekend, but these guys are catering for hundreds of people a day, and doing it well.  Low and slow barbecue is never going to be the easiest style to cook in high volumes, but Bodean's have done a good job of it.

I may never go for another meal at Bodean's, but I'd encourage anyone else to give it a go if they're nearby.  Better still, get a kettle grill and have a go yourself!

Earworm #1

You know when you get a song stuck in your head and you just can't shift it?  Well, as you would expect from a nation known for efficiency and organisation, the Germans have a word for that: Ohrwurm.  

As is pretty self evident from the title of this post, it translates to Earworm in English.  Wikipedia tells me that nearly everyone suffers from an Earworm at some point, and I am certainly no exception to that.  So on occasion I think I'm going to publish details of my current Earworm.  That way, if anyone actually reads this blog, it'll probably become their Earworm too.

My first one then, and my goodness it's terrible (why is it rarely a song you actually like?) is the debut single by unintentionally hilarious and mildly irritating former N-Dubz member "Dappy".

Scream with rage at the mind infiltrating power of "No Regrets":

I'd feel like a total bastard for posting that if I had a readership!

Oktoberfest!

No, not that one.

While our counterparts in Deutschland like to congregate in huge beer gardens, drinking huge amounts of beer from huge glasses (and staring with huge eyes at the scantily clad Frauleins) for their traditional Oktoberfest, here in the UK we have something a little different.

There's still beer involved, but for most people it is secondary to the main event: an eight hour mountain bike race around the trails at Bristol's Ashton Court Estate.  The Ritchey Oktoberfest is in its second year now, and is the autumnal companion of the summer's Bikefest event, held at the same venue.  Lots of people on bikes having a not-too-serious race around some great trails, and it looks like there's even going to be good weather on this occasion!

British MTB legend and all round good bloke Steve Peat has tweeted that he will be there, so there's even a chance to meet some downhill royalty.

I've had a good few blasts around the trails which the event will be using.  Opened earlier this year and funded by the goverment (the previous one, not the current, horrible one) as part of Bristol's designation as a "Cycling City" the trails were built by Architrail.  The trail building company is run by Phil Saxena, who did the design work on many international 4X courses, so the trails have some pedigree.

For anyone familiar with Ashton Court before Architrail carried out the work, the first visit is a bit of a shock. Gone are the rooty, rocky, cut up trails of the last few years; replaced by smoother, swoopy, bermy, jumpy affairs which are great fun but have a completely different feel to them.  Personally, I love them, though there are voices of discontent audible through the trees on occasion while riding.  Generally though, the reviews seem to have been positive, and they're certainly proving popular and helping to get new riders into the sport.  They are also designed to be weatherproof, which anyone who has slogged through some Bristol trails in previous winters will probably tell you is a Good Thing.  Gone are the days when a brief cycle in the woods meant budgeting for a replacement washing machine...

I'm hoping to get up there this Saturday and have a wander around, watch some people having a good time and maybe indulge in the German influenced aspect of the event.  Show me the beer tent!

If I were a rich man...

If you're a fan of professional basketball then you may well follow the NBA.  The exploits of the hyper-athlete wondermen of America (and, to a much lesser extent, Canada's) super league are considered the peak of the sport.

Players are the US equivalent of Premiership football players in the UK; subject to massive scrutiny from press and public, their every move documented and dissected.  The salaries are comparable too, likewise the endorsements from sponsors.

The owners of the various teams are pretty comfortably off too.  Most famous, probably, is Mark Cuban.  He's worth a few quid apparently.

This is a league where both players and owners are among a financial elite, not likely to ever have to worry about whether they can afford to buy their next meal, or to replace the pair of shoes they're wearing.  A pretty cosy existence for all concerned then, right?  Apparently not.  This Monday the NBA's commissioner David Stern confirmed that the first two weeks of the new season were being cancelled.

Why?

Because the billionaire owners and the millionaire players can't agree the details of a new Collective Bargaining Agreement.  This is the document which dictates, for the next five years or so, how much of the league's revenue is kept by the team owners, how much is paid to the players, plus a load of other details which need tying down before anyone gets to knock down a three, hammer in a dunk on the fast break or swat a shot so hard it lands in the fifth row.

So, in brief, it's a bunch of very rich people arguing with a bunch of very very rich people about which group will get the most richer over the coming years.  Meanwhile, the fans (who, in large part, are not that rich) get increasingly frustrated and disenchanted with the league, its players and its owners.

I should point out here that I am in no way against the accumulation of wealth by these people, kudos to them all for getting where they have, I just wish they could look at it from the perspective of someone who lives in the real world for a moment and get something sorted out.

It's a frustrating situation, with massive knock on effects on businesses and economies which rely on the NBA for their success, and it's already making me think "screw it, I'll watch college basketball instead".

Thankfully, there appear to still be some NBA players with a social conscience.  Have a look at the comments by reigning MVP Derrick Rose of the Chicago Bulls in this article: http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/2011/basketball/nba/09/27/derrick.rose.ap/index.html

Come on NBA, I need there to be a season so I can compose uninformed blog posts about it, because uninformed blog posts about the lockout are really boring!

A Return to Form

I play a bit of basketball, it's one of those things which begins with B that I've found myself drawn to over the years.

I'm not very good; the team I play for finished last season at the bottom of its division.  Its division was the lowest of three, within a league which only covers amateur teams in a small area of the UK.  We were really quite bad.

Toward the end of last year we decided to make some changes, to be a little less laissez faire about the whole thing, to try winning some games for a change.  Up until tonight, our fourth game of the season, it looked like we'd done a good job.  At 3-0 we were third in the league (behind only on points difference).  Tonight, we went back to playing like we'd never bounced a basketball before in our lives, to looking scared and throwing the ball away at every opportunity.  Tonight, we threw away an eleven point fourth quarter lead and ended up losing by seven.

Tonight, we returned to form; and it pissed me off.