a few idle moments

I've been enjoying tranquil moments in France at the small location in the picture. I walked past the source of the River Marne to get the snapshot. The water really is blue at the source.

Now we've moved on to the Black Forest area of Germany. I even celebrated with a Schwarzwälderkirschtorte at a beautiful and entirely random Gasthof somewhere on the twisty roads. The mountain of Schlagsahne piled on the cake may not be entirely compatible with my bike riding (460 miles last month), but it had to be done.

We are currently adopting a fairly unplanned traversal of some of the hilly bits of central Europe. We’ll probably go as far as Austria and I do want to head back through my one-time home town of Böblingen, in Baden-Württemberg, southern Germany. I’ll probably have another BFG there, at Cafe Frech, which is next door to my old apartment on Stuttgarter Straße.

My work life is usually quite structured with meetings and schedules so it’s good fun to drift off in an uncertain and idle way. Last year we were in the deserts of Arizona and the year before we were along part of the east coast of the USA heading up to close to the Canadian border, so it’s about time to give Europe another road-trip spin.

But the idea of the Idler is a tricky one to balance. I know professionally I'm required to be a 'results and outcome' sort of person, so the 'slow down and find the dreams' part requires an interesting gear shift.

As tonight's sun sets, I'm on the balcony of a new room in a fresh location. A nearby clock is striking the hour, a crow caws from a nearby tree.

Life is good and I feel ever so slightly idle.

i seem to be in France

I'm watching a different kind of Olympic reporting now, as I'm currently in France. Coincidentally, on Sunday night (Monday early morning actually) I was close to the French TV channel that were based in a central London hotel. Today I can see their output on French telly.

It's comparatively subdued compared with the Brit coverage and you need to hunt around the channels, but I guess there's a difference in the number of wins. Because they will interview the French athletes, it's easy to spot that French tracksuit doesn't look as stylish as the Brit one. A simple blue seems to be prevalent. It's noticeably less of an event here (says a Londoner!).

But in my travels I did notice a French roundabout today resplendent with the Olympic circles. In the middle of the central one was a Union Jack flag, which would be hard to imagine in reverse in the UK.

So tonight I've enjoyed a convivial dinner, and an adjacent table full of Australians commenting on their own performance in the Games. I couldn't help notice the deceptively casual excellence of the meal and its accompanying perfectly judged wine.

I guess there's more than one way to win.

a day at the Olympics

There's so much coverage of the actual Olympics, but less on the spectator experience, so I thought I'd mention a few impressions from the journey to the park and within.

It's in the context that central London has received a makeover and that many familiar routes have been changed. This has been happening over many weeks, with both road closures and even pedestrian route closures, especially around the Westminster central area.

It makes it worth a few minutes of extra thought to consider the route to the main venue.

Our journey on Sunday was a case in point, because of bridge and road closures over much of the central area. My satnav had red cross roadblocks all over it. This was a consequence of the women's marathon, which was right through the centre so we routed east to Tower Bridge to cross the Thames. Excitingly, until we dropped off the car, we could also use the Olympics Lanes which had were switched off for a while.

With the combination of increasing traffic and tube lines being busy, it made more sense to take a main line train out to Stratford, a single stop from Liverpool Street.

I haven't used that line for a long time and there's a great view of the whole complex that slides into view as the train halts.

Five minutes of walking through tunnels with a left/right decision to shops or Olympics and then into the noticably international world of the games park.

Very multi-lingual announcements, smiley-smiley people everywhere and a walk through a crowd to the main entrances, manned by friendly Commandos operating the security system. They were in their camouflage uniforms with the addition of little shoulder badges in Olympic colours.

Then inside the park.

It's huge area like one of the bigger Disney parks in Florida. Immediately ahead is the main stadium seen in the opening ceremony and to its side the improbably squirmy Orbit tower.

The sleek Aquatic centre is nearby across a bridge after a walk through a prettily assembled garden. In the other direction are other stadiums, but they are so far away as to be out of sight.

Beyond the Orbit is a large McDonald's - one of the more obvious signs of sponsorship, but although large, it turns out to be the small one, comparatively dwarfed by the other one further towards the centre of the park. I generally didn't find the sponsorship presence in the park overbearing. It was there, via various buildings and exhibits, but not overstated.

We skipped the McD experience instead trying other food from the smaller serveries dotted around. I was mildly surprised by the pricing which seemed very fair in such a venue with mainly simple food that was pleasant and even felt like good value.

The Megastore is the Olympics 2012 warehouse shopping experience for tee-shirts and mementos (OK, we were already in Team GB attire). Amusingly the Union Flags for Great Britain had completely sold out - as indeed had many of the other Team GB clothing items. This is only half way through the event, so presumably there are more supplies somewhere.

From the store it is a short walk to the broadcast hub being used by the BBC. It's on a stack of freightliner containers, which reminded the East Londoner in me that Stratford once had a huge freightliner terminal on part of the Olympics site. Temple Mills, I think it was called and I recollect that the original Temple Mill (an actual mill) was built by the Knights Templars back in the 1100s.

But back to the plot.

From this more central area it is possible to see the fabulous Velodrome, the Riverbank Arena (where the hockey is played), the basketball arena and the still distant BMX stadium.

Across from the basketball arena is the Olympic Village, where the athletes live and it is possible to see various flags and captions displayed on the outside of the different apartment blocks.

I haven't mentioned the noise, but even from the vast thoroughfares, there's a continuous surround sound of roars from the different venues, and every so often an extra loud one for something amazing.

Inside the venues, the flags and cacophony continues, with a notable increase for anything from Team GB. If there's a gap in proceedings, for some of the events there is also extra razzmatazz from dancers or other acts.

Whilst we were there I think the entire Park stopped for the Usain Bolt 100 Metres final. First silence and then a huge roar as he crossed the finish line.

There could be no doubt of the winner of that event, nor of the clear success of the whole Olympic staging.

medalicious Team GB

It's been a strange week, what with almost the entire news output of the UK being devoted to sport.

It's been exciting too, with some fine global moments as well as great medals for Team GB. Six golds in a day for Team GB. Never before.

We'll be along at the Olympic Park tomorrow, and it's been interesting to see the way that the various events have unfolded around the wider London and beyond.

The road cycling in the early days was a good example, showcasing central London as well as heading out into the countryside. It's also given the weather a chance to flex, with both sunshine and enough rain to prove it's really Great Britain.


Today has been astonishing, with rowing and velodrome wins this morning followed by the excitement of the stadium athletics into the evening.

I've also been impressed with the way that the television has managed to cover every event live and have a new admiration for what can be done with the TV's red button. The BBC has managed to squeeze dozens of extra Olympic channels underneath their main ones and most of them seem to be in High Definition too.

Well, we've got our Team GB kit ready and have received the emails about the travel restrictions. It's the peak weekend and there's also the marathon blocking off most of the central area. I'm sure we will find a suitable route.

i read a comment, and am sent on an Olympian trail

I was very fortunate to have picked up Nikki-ann's comment just before I headed off to some more meetings in the distant town with a mysterious road system.

Nikki-ann had commented that if I was back there I should look out for a few other places.

Now, to be honest, I was heading back towards a motorway when I spotted the sign to Much Wenlock. "Ahah!" I thought, "that's one of the places Nikki-ann mentioned."

So I followed the signs.

Actually I didn't have a clue if it was nearby or a few country miles away. Then my sat-nav pinged up 'Much Wenlock Lane' and another place called Little Wenlock showed up on the map.

It was getting sunnier and also around lunch-time, after meetings that had started at eight o'clock, so an opportunity to flâneur.

I kept driving and found the delightful little town, which also, to my even greater delight, was the place where the modern Olympics is claimed to have originated!

Local resident Dr William Penny Brookes was a great believer in physical education and in 1850 set up the Wenlock Olympian Games. This led, via the Shropshire Games to the the National Olympian Games.

It turns out that Dr Brookes and Baron Pierre de Coubertin met several times at the Raven Hotel to talk about plans for what we now think of as the Modern Olympics and Dr Brookes is credited as a founding father of the Games.

It also turns out that there's a regular Wenlock Olympian Games which is a four-day event during the second weekend in July and a feast takes place at the Raven to celebrate. The Raven also has some display items from the Brooks and de Coubertin correspondence.

And only then did it click with me that the Olympic mascot called Wenlock is named after this founding town.

A pretty cool diversion for me on may way back home and entirely unplanned. Thank you, Nikki-ann, for this great suggestion.

digging holes in air, alone

Well, the Olympic bicycle road race didn't go quite to plan today. The Brits held together a decent pace and influence, but a slippery group managed to break away and create a somewhat unpredictable result.

The small number of riders in each team meant it would be almost impossible for a single team to control the speed of the race. Although the Brits made a gallant attempt, there was no other team prepared to help keep the main body of the riders up with the break-away leaders.

I suppose it was not that surprising, with the Brits fresh back from their overwhelmingly good results from the Tour de France. They'd planned to position the fast sprinter Mark Cavendish to whizz to the line.

Not to be though, because when a few other riders got ahead, the opportunity for another country to help out was quietly overlooked. No-one wanted to help the peloton, because all they would be doing would be to increase the British chance of victory. So they all hung back, giving the front work (making a tunnel through the air) that much more difficult for the Brits.

Still, a fascinating race, and well played Team GB.

the isle is full of noises

It looks as if my quick tour through the birthplace of industry came in useful for later in the week as we saw an idyllic and fluffy cloudy British countryside of sheep, geese, plough-horses, cricket greens and picturesque cottages get transformed by industry.

Of course I'm talking about the Olympic Opening ceremony yesterday evening, with its rather British slant and an attempt to edit thousands of years down to about an hour.

Preceding it, the GB Sports Minister managed to lose his clapper when ringing a handbell but Bradley Wiggins hit the mark on the big bell at the start of the ceremony.

Some parts might be lost on a global audience; the playing of the Shipping Forecast during the 20:12 countdown sequence, the blast of the Archers theme tune from a mini car radio; the inevitable slight pause for the drum beats of EastEnders whilst the viewpoint hovered over the Dome.

Mix in a skydiving Queen, James Bond, a choreographed NHS bed sequence, a proper Bow Bell to celebrate the East End base for the Olympic village. Pause for breath. Shakespeare, The Suffragettes, the Yarrow Crusade, J.K.Rowling reading Peter Pan, a squadron of Mary Poppins arriving by brolly, the invention of football, oh, and Tim, the creator of the World Wide Web. Even with both a mosh pit and a posh pit it was much more about everyman than about royals. It was inevitable that with so much available to include that the reduction must have been a major task in itself.

And did I spot a double-decker bus? And did I notice that it wasn't red? Maybe that's because it was drawn by horses.

Designed by Danny Boyle, to be a show that celebrated the people, it also used a genuine cast of thousands of ordinary folk.

It may not have had the same big bucks budget as the preceding Beijing ceremony, but I think it created a uniquely memorable and appropriately quirky view of the British - didn't overplay 'London', and also provided references for global viewing.

Although I can't help wonder about the voiceovers for some countries, attempting to explain some of what was happening.

I'm sure there will be some scoffers, but I'll nail my Team GB flag to the celebratory mast for this one.

And then, the march of the athletes, from something over 200 countries. Let the Games commence - Next I'll be watching the Brits cutting a leading path up to Box Hill in the cycling.

through the birthplace of industry, a little too quickly

I was back in that town with the difficult to access filling station during this week.

Actually, I sort of chickened out. Whilst still at home I checked the gauge on the car which was 'half full'. Easily enough to do the 200 or so miles to my destination. Maybe not quite enough to get back as well.

So I filled up locally, with the specific intention of not having to go all around the houses again at my destination.

It didn't stop me from a little side diversion on the way back though, to meander through the sunshine splashed Ironbridge Gorge.

The area is described as the birthplace of industry and is rich with museums and free-standing exhibits related to industrial heritage. I'd guess theres about a dozen actual venues to peruse as well as further evidence of furnaces and similar along the roadways.

On this hot day, incongruously suited and booted from my earlier meetings, I strolled across the famous iron bridge having left my car parked in a short term bay. Then onwards through Coalbrookdale, for a short stop at the Museums, which I decided were impossible in the time I'd got, but I've noted for a return visit.

I did drop into an art installation, and spotted that out here in Shropshire, it was still classed as part of 'London 2012'.

So here's a tiny taste of Core, from the digital installations of Kurt Hentschläger.

vinyl moment

I received a little unexpected gift today. The result of a Northern shopping expedition which didn't involve me. An album. Yes, vinyl. And new, a 2012 release.

Up to now the record player has been working it's way through albums from the vinyl age so a new one is an interesting turn up.

Also the cover art of the album just wouldn't work on a CD and would disappear without trace on a digital download.

Time to put the needle on the record.

ramped

I drive around London and even with the one way systems and random road closures I don't get lost very often.

Unlike the small town I drove around earlier. My benchmark tricky road system is Boston, MA, where I have got onto ramps and then been whisked to completely different parts of the city.

I have just had a similar experience in a much smaller UK town. I just wanted to get some fuel before heading back south. I could see the filling station across the seven exit roundabout. I drove towards it, but there wasn't an accessible entrance. I had to keep going.

No problem, I can turn at the next roundabout. But no, they'd built a cunning one way section to stop me.

The filling station was on the edge of a car park. There was a sign to go into the car park. I followed it.

Wrong.

It took me up a concrete ramp into an adjacent multi story car park. The concrete side walls prevent me from turning around. I had to take a ticket at the barrier and drive around the car park and then exit again back into another one way system. I idly looked for another filling station.

No, I would have to follow the road system around to the other side of the filling station which I could now see was across a different car park.

A few minutes later I could see the entrance to the car park.

Another barrier, another car park ticket.

I drove across the car park towards the filling station.

Exit the car park. A big 'No Entry' sign to the filling station.

I decided they did not want to sell me any fuel.

At Zerelda Lee's candy store

I've been on the road again this week and Tuesday mid evening I arrived and flipped on the hotel telly which was showing the latest star-hunting vortex.

A formulaic hunt for a singing Jesus, complete with a stairway to heaven.

Still, it gives an excuse to post Tom Waits' Chocolate Jesus.

tack attack at tour

My bike riding was a bit erratic in June and I've only partly picked up in July, with 118 miles in week 1 and 79 miles last week.

My mileage is nothing compared with the guys in the Tour de France, I'm only doing their 'warm down' type mileages, but I as I've set myself a 40 mile per week target then I don't feel so bad.

Today was a case in point, where I had to decide whether to go for a spin or watch the Tour on telly. I decided to go out, but still caught the end of today's bizarre stage.

I expect it will get called #tackgate or something in the reports because some of the main riders including Cadel Evans received punctures from carpet tacks strewn on the road, which really disrupted the stage.

Interestingly, a gentlemanly code of conduct kicked in. Overall race leader in the yellow jersey, the Brit Bradley Wiggins, got the whole peloton to slow down and wait for the punctured leaders to get their bikes fixed and rejoin at the right point.

Technically, it became impossible for the ones that had been sabotaged to catch up, but sporting Wiggins' decision effectively neutralised the end result where everyone (except the justifiable leaders) finished on the same positions as at the end of the prior stage.

The rest of the hundred and fifty or so riders followed the decision and even made some sprint drama for the crowds at the end of the stage without affecting the outcome.

Yes, and they cycled 191 kilometres through rain and parts of the Pyrenees for this disrupted end result. But I still have a sneaking suspicion that their legs ache less than mine at the end of today.