birds were singing to calm me down

It's 03:34 in the morning and already the first signs of the new dawn.

If I walk around with the house in darkness, there's a white light shed across rooms with open doors from what is starting to happen as the sun climbs towards the horizon.

And some of the birds are already singing.

Welcome to tomorrow.

tales of the riverbank

I managed to take a small spin on the bike, towards somewhere called Frog Lane.

Being a mid-week afternoon, the lanes were not so busy and I was happy to take a gentle tee-shirted roll along some back-roads.

I overtook one cyclist standing by the roadside and discarding outer layers because of the temperatures.

At another point someone sped past me at very high speed.

Usually when this happens it will be a lycra-clad speeder with a specialised high tech racing bike that makes a sort of whistle from the air-tuned spokes as it passes.

On this occasion it was a woman on a fairly basic mountain bike.

I carried on at a sedate speed as she doppler-shifted a good 300 metres ahead. After the next curve I noticed that she now seemed to be going much slower and I worked out she was using more or less one gear irrespective of the quite undulating terrain.

We were now on one of those awkward long sections where I was mainly freewheeling yet she was pedalling furiously but somehow I was gaining. To avoid creating an inadvertent race I politely slowed right down leaving a respectable gap.

Eventually a reasonably straight section appeared for me to overtake again, just ahead of a quite steep section. I called 'hello' and we swapped some banter as I overtook and it became plain that the other rider was perhaps unfamiliar with the particular bicycle.

I disappeared around the next corner and towards the hill - knowing I was ahead but also that the next section was somewhat vertical. Fortunately for me the other rider was still in one gear and probably walking that section.

I carried on for another few miles to the stream, where I paused to eat half a pineapple and ginger torq bar.

The adjacent cows spotted me and decided en masse to come along for a look, maybe thinking I was the farmer. And then, as they got into better visual range they slowed and dispersed back to grazing.

Meantime a yellow wagtail first walked and then flew dippily along the river. A few moments later it emerged on the bank, with its prize catch of a small fish.

I decided this would be a good spot to take my afternoon conference call.

Tasting Notes : Green King IPA at the Camel

As I acquired a new tweeter on the strength of the last post, based upon its reference to real ale, I thought I'd mention the beer from Monday evening. It was Greene King IPA, which I think leaves real ale afficionados divided.

You know what? For me it was a perfect choice.

A well-kept pump pulled pint close to Waterloo (the Camel and Artichoke, actually).

It brought me memories of drinking out in Essex and beyond in some of my older stomping grounds.

This pint wasn't trying to be ultra clever with wench-mashed hops and waggle bee honey droppings.

No, it was a straightforward pint of medium strength bitter. The kind to choose for an extended session chatting with a friend.

I could quibble at its India Pale Ale moniker, because actually the beer had a quite dark tint, particularly compared with the adjacent St Edmunds.

Whatever it's moderate strength, it had that sharp and slightly peppery edge at the first bite which persisted nicely through the whole glass.

And above all, what I liked was that this was a proper beer evoking English countryside, served from a barrel, and not some kind of marketeers' clever badging of a science experiment.

i go for a real ale before the tagliatelle

One of those 'hold the phone to the window' videos of the approach to Waterloo.

I was actually heading for a pub in the vicinity of the station to talk of shoes and ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings with a misplaced friend.

Randomly, on the way I spotted another tie-wearing friend as I cut across the Waterloo concourse and the two of us calculated the gap of some 3 years since we'd last sipped together.

The consequence will be another excuse for a get together somewhere around the city.

And then onward to an evening featuring real ale before moving into the tagliatelle stage. A proper example of "Pronto?"

instigate

A few interesting exchanges over the last few days. As I go about my re-modelling project it is interesting to pick up the weak signals from others.

By weak I don’t mean they are invalid or suspect, more that they you have to look for them carefully.

It’s been interesting, because I’m really planning a bunch of new things to try but need to balance a little prudence into the equation.

Not so much caution that the lizard brain kicks in and says “Step away from that idea” or the coarser version for which “tea break's over, back on your heads” is the punchline.

No, I’m trying to define some self-initiated ways to operate a “lifestyle portfolio” that means I can balance my own control along with sensible economics.

This may all sound a bit weird in amongst my normal blog posts about London Town and suchlike. And I promise it is not some kind of meltdown.

More sensibly, I am keen to look at other ways to operate. It might take a while for any of it to start making sense.

To me, let alone any one else.

But it’s started, and that is a Good Thing.

you say smile i say cheese

I’m not sure if “you can’t have too many bikes” is like the more well known quote, ”you can never have too many hats” but I suppose if the cap fits, then wear it.

In my case I’ve a modest selection of bikes and today should really have taken one with mudguards because of the drizzling rain as I set out. Instead I have returned with an exclamation mark painted on my back in the colour of damp road surface.

The exclamation mark is quite appropriate at the moment, given that I’m going through another one of my experimental phases partly as an attempt to rebalance my busy working schedule with some other activities.

I’m thinking ‘portfolio lifestyle’ as a phrase for it, but there’s probably already a marketeers’ abbreviation which will become clear to me after I post this and take a look at the spam comments.

Quite simply it’s about reclaiming some bits of time.

I’m very aware that I get to travel and see places because of what I do, but mainly at a speed that makes everything quite blurry. Two weeks ago in Brussels. Did I see the town? Nope. What about when I was in the Haag just before that. I saw a sunlit square on the walk to a taxi. How about Oslo? Oh yes, I walked around the block outside of the meeting area for ten minutes before we were due to start. Greece was different, but I suppose that was on my own time.

But all of this is the problem with cycling. It gives me time to think. To watch the world and consider options. Just like I was doing whilst studying the sky in Mykonos.

Time for some changes.

But first I must get out of this T-shirt with the rainy exclamation mark on it.

londonist on ipod music choices

A fun post from the Londonist about the music choices of Londoners with their iPods. A mini spin around the central areas included.

Play 'spot the landmark'.

ride on the chrome horse with your diplomat

Friday morning eight a.m. and I'm on the phone to an American in a car. The roads around me don't look so bad, but I know I'm in a bubble.

He's on a handsfree and we're talking about some deal or other. Then I hear a woman's voice. Something about turn left. He mutters "I've never been to Cambridge before" and then "that was the turning, I've just missed it."

Great city, Cambridge.

I muse on the times I've spent there and the right way to stand on a punt.

Three more calls and then I'm on the road. My own sat-nav tells me a different way to somewhere I've visited before. A few red Xs on the map tell me there's a block on the usual route.

So then it's my turn to miss the junction. A right at a roundabout and then onto an elevated section. Except I should have gone hard left after the junction.

I pay the ten minute penalty as I follow an escape-free dual carriageway bypassing Windsor to the M4, where I traverse about four sets of lights while I think about no direction and rolling stones.

waterloo rain set

Even more Rivers of London. This time it's Waterloo, with plenty of water running down from the trains and onto the tracks.

I've just arranged to meet someone around here early next week and am hoping for slightly better weather at a spot about two or three minutes walk from the station.

Now what was my weather a week ago?

Ah, yes, I remember.

a ride across a River of London

Keeping a slight 'Rivers of London' theme going, I spotted this on The Londonist and thought it was worth a ride across the Virtual Thames.

I finally read the Rivers of London and have already seen one of the ghosts

I took some books away last week, including one recommended by fellow blogger Nikki-ann.

Well, actually Nikki-ann wrote about the second book in the series but I thought I'd follow her advice and start at the beginning.

'Rivers of London' is by Ben Aaronovitch and a sort of London detective tale, mixed with urban fantasy.

There's parts where the storyline and descriptions are very 21st Century detective and then other parts where it all goes quite wibbly. The main character seems fairly unruffled as he learns about ghosts, mystical rivers and ways to conjure fireballs.

If that stuff is of the heavens, then there's some counterbalance with likably realistic scenes of down-to-earth police processes.

Its also set in the middle of London, with plenty of references to the area around Covent Garden, which should ensure a good number of readers will recognise the venues. Imagine the area between the Punch and Judy pub and the adjacent Actor's church(outside which the jugglers perform for tourists) as the epicentre.

The story clicked into supernatural almost from the start although the expected reactions from the main protagonist were surprisingly restrained considering the alarming and gory events unfolding. Also a revealed plot-line which I then found a tad too predictable - although I guess the point was to speculate how it would be accomplished.

I also found myself studying the dialogue; Aaronovitch writes with a tight style that cracks the pace along nicely. He's written a fair few screenplays and scripts and this shows through in the craft of his writing style.

That created the necessary page turner effect which was very compatible with the beach.

I must admit that when I bought it, the next book was also available as a twoofer so I suspect that the 'Moon over Soho' will be amongst my next reads. Thanks, Nikki-ann, for the suggestion.

And weirdly, when I was in Covent Garden recently, I saw the man in the picture below leaning against the columns, right underneath the Punch and Judy pub and across from St Paul's Church.

Spooky?

hold that hippy fish thought

Today was a suitably hectic restart after a few days on a sunny island in Greece.

Firstly, the rain. Then my sat-nav awakening with little red cars all over the routes to where I needed to be. An extra hour blended onto the journey.

Discovering two last-minute meetings had been snuck onto my schedule.

One was for most of the morning, with a visitor who had flown over specially from Sweden on some kind of Swedish public holiday and the second was for me to present to a group of around 20 people on an unexpected topic.

Before this, my PC decided it was important for me to immediately change my password and follow complicated instructions to press my nose, pat my head and turn around three times before anything would work again.

Fortunately I managed to swerve my way through all of it, and could still smile at then end. I'll admit that thoughts of last week's time at Hippy Fish helped.