Going underground

The charming fellows from Wessex Water, our local provider of the wet stuff, have been probing into the ground under the guise of "fixing a water leak". In their enthusiasm to liberate as much earth from below the road as possible, it seems they have liberated all of us in our road from the strangling noose of the telephone system.

When I approached them to enquire about such things, they pre-empted my intrusion, and hailed me thus:

Gentleman with metal pole: "You're not tellin' us your phone's off, are you?"

Me: "Um, yes. Get that often, do you?"

Different gentleman by digger: "yeah, that was my fault. BT have been informed... maybe you should call them and tell them that you've been cut off, that you have a very dependent elderly mother... might speed them up a bit."

So, with all the details of our impending End to End cycling trip stored in my email, and an 'ETR' (Estimated Time of Repair) from BT of next Thursday, I'm at a friends' house, trying to extract all the information I need from any internet-based sources, and put it in offline format.

Joy; felicitation!

In other news, I popped down to Lee Abbey last week for a game of Scrabble (TM) with Tim'n'Mim. The 94 miles of unicycling to get down there was largely enjoyable, especially the first two hours, during which I got 25 miles without dismounting. That's all the way to Wells. Woo.

The South Westerly headwind became unpleasant, and conspired with the North Devon hills to make the last 20 miles exceedingly hard. Note to self: do not unicycle across the top of Exmoor. It's very windy. Wind and unicycles don't mix.

Cunningly, our direction of travel should be going with the prevailing wind, and not going up and down various 25% hills too much. Also, we shouldn't have to be doing that after 70 miles of riding earlier in the day.

Look at this...

Look, look... I'm actually 'logging' the 'web'! That's 'weblogging' to you and me, or just 'blogging these days.

Yes, the original meaning for these online burblings... not just for my own meanderings, but for linking to interesting things by others.

Now, after a build-up like that, you just know you are going to be both tickled and probed by this Postmodern Retelling of the Parable of the Pharisee and the Publican.

I had a bath with Adrian Plass last night (I'd recommend it to anyone), accompanied by a good supply of Jaffa Cakes, and was most pleasant. The reason for mentioning it is that I read his account of the Denominational World Cup; something which I must have seen before, but it really made me laugh out loud.

Day 18

"I tracked you down through an old insurance claim, filed under terms of absolute secrecy"

...was not what this man said. He said it had been tricky to get my number, as it was printed wrong, along with my (not my correct) name, but somehow he had got my number and got me.

The anonymous 'he' turned out to be none other than (no, I'd not heard of him before either) Brian Davis, who told me he had been the very first person to unicycle the great End to End of Britain.

He'd done it in 1980, in 19 days, on a 28" unicycle, with a support vehicle for his stuff.

I'm doing it in 2005, in 23 days, on a 29" unicycle, with four (occasionally five) support cycles.

We had a nice chat about the ordeal, getting lots of carbs for breakfast, vicious drainage on the A9 beyond Perth and cramp at Bridgewater. He lives near John O' Groats now, but was born in Bath... which must be how he found out about me - from the local press today. He may even be able to visit the end point, to welcome us in to the finish!

It was amazing to have a call out of the blue from someone with a story like this. Makes the world feel a smaller, more beautiful place than ever.

He also said "oh, that's ideal" when I said what size wheel I use (29"). That was a nice change from "you must be mad, that's tiny" from the 36" brigade of modern unicyclists (I don't mean they're wrong... some of you know I'd love a 36", but it's not the be-all-and-end-all of distance unicycling).

It's all kicking off in under three weeks now. I can't wait!!

Allegiance to a country

After listening through some of the samples of the upcoming Switchfoot album 'Nothing Is Sound', for which I have probably impossibly high hopes, I found something irresistible.

"I pledge allegiance to a country without borders,
Without politicians..."

Previously 'A Beautiful Letdown' inspired hope that Christian music, even by Americans, could have such a passion behind it, bleeding through it, that is more Jesus-like than just Christian-like. The lively repudiation of the fabric of modern Western middle-class life... even that of all who will be buying their music, but who still want to believe that there's a breath somewhere through the suffocating plastic-coat.

The first plays of the first few samples didn't seem that gripping... even verging on 'samey'... one of the very things I liked in how they weren't; setting them out as more creative than most professional Christians. But I'm well on my way to being convinced. Also it has 'Daisy', which I've had as a partial live-preview download for months, and come to regard as a favourite beautiful song, makes buying it almost certain. Especially when he says things like this:

No, I don't believe in rock and roll. No, I don't believe in the success that we've achieved. And no, I don't believe in me. In a free market world of the bought and sold I feel caught in between. I believe I've heard about a man who was exploited to sell everything from indulgences to the wars of men. And yet he offered only one bitter pill that was not easily marketed. Maybe that's what this record hopes to be: a simple bitter pill of truth that steps outside of our hamster wheel and looks up at the stars and beyond.

Rainbow straps and sandals

Rainbow straps and sandals

One of the many treats on display on Sidmouth prom during Folk Week. The town-sized retirement home becomes an unconsciously bohemian effluence for one week of the year. Being there for only one day, I saw a public Cedeilh in a river ford, a man wearing 'sock (in the singular) and sandals', bagpipes, accordions, people wearing and selling clothes with colours sure to induce debilitating medical conditions from prolonged exposure and a home knitted jumper advertising the event.

Beautiful.

The Gardener

Day 9