I’ve revived my WordPress. I’m sure you’re pleased, I would go as far to compare it to Christmas, as I walk down the stairs each day, even my low expectations leave me disappointed, with family being ever more infuriating.
I had actually written an ultimate blog post during my final days, in Malpas at least. However, I didn’t put it online as some of my lines would stride over the line. Simply, there would be no winners. I could go all chronological, recalling the last stretch of second year, but instead I’ll just take sections of the unpublished blog post, saving time and words for some more recent anecdotes.
Inevitably, I shall begin with Rush. I’ve been listening to them a lot, as per usual, particularly those live albums I mentioned. There’s a few subtle variations in the performances, so several versions of each song are justified, I have 383 in all. The recording of Witch Hunt on A Show of Hands is beautiful. Towards the end there’s a little outburst of guitar, it’s only a few notes or whatever it is, but, oh, it’s so perfect. Doesn’t quite bring a tear to my eye every time, but it is just sublime. The soliloquy from 2112 live is equally flawless, I listen to it at least once a day, in the same way I watch a small piece of footage of a Shadow testing at Laguna Seca in 1974. It’s just it. No more is needed. It’s absolutely refined and correct. I guess that’s what I’ve learnt this year, Rush are good, motorsport was better before I was alive and, finally, a big monitor does nothing to make me happy. If anyone would like to watch “Can-Am The Speed Odyssey” you’re most welcome, not only does it have the fantastically raw footage of the Shadow, but an awe-inspiring section on the racing car to end all racing cars, the Porsche 917/30. I may have to buy a tape deck too, so I can announce my all Rush mix tape.
Whilst paying little attention to a Come Dine With Me marathon in Malpas, I wrote this, probably sums it up quite well.
Hand in was odd. At first, I was looking forward to it, but after giving my work in, no weight was lifted. Still another year, only it should be better, because I will be living with people and spending minimal time in Newport. At least there’s a core of decent people here, so we left the SU early, speaking to people about their time here, one of these phrases is used: “Fucking hell.” “I fucking hate this.” “Newport is fucking shit.” “For fucks sake.”
With my University review concluded, with plenty of fucking, it’s time for Summer! I’ve got myself a new thing to do. I’m riding solo. It has relieved me of a lot of, just, stuff. So, cycling, it’s good. I bought a totally shit single speed bike from eBay, it was delivered from Barry, by a man called Barry. Anyway, the bike itself is in very bad condition, the front wheel isn’t actually round, so the brakes don’t work. The frame is bent, which in turn bends however many new axles I fit. This also hinders chain tension somewhat, which is useful of a bike, especially one with no gears. However, I can get past all of this. Riding my bike is fantastic. The moment I clumsily push it through the front gate and get on the saddle, I can go anywhere (Within a small radius, admittedly.) As I ride down the road, I can stick it to the man, driving that bloated BMW. I cycle past teenagers and ugly people on mountain bikes, trying to make it look as effortless as possible. Men wearing jerseys overtake me, laughing. The one gear I do have is very low, however this means getting to 10mph on my bike is now one of the greatest experiences. For extra cool points (In my opinion at least) I have added a bell which says “I <3 my bike”. As I coast through Penarth town centre, I ring my bell, being a vague, floral shirted, hindrance to the public. I don't always use the bell though. One of my regular routes involves Lavernock Point, up Fort Road, which is a pleasant country lane, gradually falling down hill. I pick up speed, probably on the slightly scary, undignified side on 20mph. The road surface, as is common in Penarth, is bumpy at best, so I take a certain line through the turns. Up ahead are two joggers. Immediately, I know I really don't like joggers, I mean it's one thing to be a cock on a stupid bike, but running around in public, looking exhausted, playing some generica on your iPod and discussing a meeting? I don't approve. With this in my mind, I try not to startle them with my bell. So I don't use it. Approaching relatively rapidly, I believe, surely, that they can hear me? About 5 metres away, one turns around to see me, makes a strange squealing noise, alerting her jogging partner, who shouts: “OHMYGO–” It's at this moment I zip through with centimetres to spare. The action replay would've been fantastic. One of the joggers shouts “BELL” at me, it was nice of her to notice it as I passed. As I swept along the road I decided it would be best to go home quite quickly, in case their boyfriends or something chased me, trying to run me down. If I hit them with bullhorn bars, I'm confident I could've actually removed a kidney at such speed. Later, someone in a gaudy Vauxhall Corsa 1.1, which had crashed into Halfords and raped the cheap parts section, threw a plastic bottle at me as I was cycling. Had I been a bit more annoyed, I could've turned around, pursued them slowly to the end of the road and thrown my cheap and heavy bike at their car. After that I would have to improvise though, and that's hardly a strong point of mine. Yesterday I visited a local bike shop to order a new bike, which should be more reliable and road-worthy than my current, not very noble but at least mobile steed. I'm getting some lights too, so I can cycle around in the early hours of the morning, there's absolutely no way it cannot be as good as I'm imagining.
To finish, here's a photo of my bike, which looks better in photos than real life. I guess my bike mattress to me.
And then I rode my bike somewhere and then I took a photo when I got to wherever and had a brief rest and then I went on my bike more and then I got home and put in on a blog. I have since removed the last reflector, and the stand, seeking form in what is actually a functional object. I can’t get the stickers off though. Imagine someone leaves Weetabix to dry onto a cereal bowl, but instead they’re stickers left on a bike for 40 years. Impossible.
And here’s a Shadow DN-4, at Laguna Seca no less, although it’s from a recent event, so the car would’ve been slowed by the infield section added in 1988.
And thanks to everyone who came to visit in Malpas! No, really! Have a good summer!
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