The Ballad of a Substandard Cyclist

I finally got around to recording one of October's songs, and I'm starting to get the hang of Garageband. This is the third in my 'Songs About Challenges' repertoire and is definitely a step up from my last attempt, the now classic track "Sausages". This one is about the Sydney to Gong ride and cycling in general.

May I present: The Ballad of a Substandard Cyclist.

Ballad of a Substandard Cyclist by duskerdee

She rides... she rides...

It's like Lamaze

All this breathing and pushing

She rides

Uphill

We battle uphill

While old men sidle effortlessly by

I'm indicating

I'm on a bright yellow bike

And it's frustrating

Because I know I'm in your sight

But you're not waiting

You just drive out and make your point

There's so much hating

Around

Ninety kms...

How are we ever gonna make it

Along that highway?

Uphill

We battle uphill

I'm really gonna make it even if it means

I'm pedalling for days

I'm indicating

I'm on a bright yellow bike

And it's frustrating

Because I know I'm in your sight

But you're not waiting

You just drive out and make your point

There's so much hating

Around

She rides...

She rides...

She rides...

Diversion

Almost a year ago to the day, Dusker played a show at Manly Fishos. For our guitarist Jacob, it was a particularly memorable evening (happy anniversary, Yak and Mel), but for me, it was the band finding its feet and stretching its wings, one of our first gigs in the current configuration. We were the second act in the line up, I think, and directly after us were a 2-piece from Melbourne I’d never heard of before. They were good. Very, very good. Their name was Big Scary.

Now, I’m not one to berate the Sydney music scene (much), but we’ve played with a lot of bands who were not quite as inspiring. Sometimes that is because they just play a genre that I don’t really relate to, sometimes it is because the band (like us back then) are finding their feet a little bit, but often it is just because, frankly, they suck. So I am always excited when we get put on a line up with someone who makes my ears prick up, or that I think is comparable in style to our sound. It seems to happen so rarely. Big Scary was one of those bands that I immediately thought “wow”. They’ve got amazing stage presence for only 2 people. And damn they were cool. So much cooler than us. And the sound was so together; the vibe was huge.

I wanted to be friends, but I think they knew they were cooler than us too. Don’t get me wrong, they were lovely people and we chatted a bit, but there was no exchange of details, no “hey we should play together again some time!”. It’s like dating, except for bands. We’re sitting at the table in the restaurant looking nervous about ordering the pasta (fettucini!? I’m totally going to spill this shit all over my white shirt) and wondering whether $15 was enough to spend on a bottle of wine; they’re checking their phone for messages and generally looking aloof.

Anyway. The point of my story is, that was a year ago. Last night we played The Wall in Leichhardt and absolutely killed it. It was wonderous strange. I was squinting into the red light, dimly aware of the connection between my voice and the resulting sound coming out from the speakers, cloaked in a guitar solo on my right and beautiful plinky bits on the left (Dusker-speak for piano). It broke down into a 4-part harmony acapella section. It occurred to me then that we had become that band. The “wow” band.

At least, that’s what it was like in my head. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.

Keeping things interesting

Nothing much to report these last two days, except that I tried to get in touch with Father Kevin BC again, had a good chat to Carly-le about the bike ride which left me feeling a little lighter about the situation, and sang nicely at gospel rehearsal. Annoyingly one of our best gigs got cancelled.

A cancelled rehearsal left a beautifully open night, which was then immediately filled by the prospect of dinner with some friends it felt like we hadn’t seen for a decade. Sleep is a nice option too, but who can possibly pass up a chance to say hello to this little face?

Hi Baotze!

I’m going for a spin class with Scobie on Saturday morning, so, I may or may not regret that later. They’ve called it “Cycle class” to make it appear less terrifying but they can’t fool me. If that doesn’t strike me down with a migraine then we have 30th Birthday No. 1 Saturday afternoon, picnic style in the sun, and then later in the evening we move onto 30th Birthday No. 2 which is swanky dinner stylee and I will probably even wear a skirt, amazing. Then on Sunday we’re back at Day Job Studios to play with Bam— I mean, record some exquisite music with Briscoe. You know, just a regular weekend really.

And a gig at the Bald Faced Stag in Leichhardt tonight, for anyone so inclined…

The spaces in between

So, the 22nd came and went, and 6 postcards failed to materialise. There was only one that I wasn’t really expecting to get back, and they’re ok. I didn’t want to learn how to surf anyway (water is cold, and also wet! Two things I don’t like very much). Another is excused due to the lateness of her inclusion and the fact she had a baby almost immediately. But still.

The whole experiment inadvertently took on an emotional life of its own as I took the rollercoaster ride of checking what the postman had brought each day. For the first few days, nothing. Then one. Then a dribble. Then a swarm. First the postcards from those I knew I could rely on, and the wide-eyed wonder of the challenges they proposed. The warmth in realising how well they knew me. Then those on the outer, who I thought might palm the entire thing off as some outlandish flight of fancy, but humoured me anyway. Delight in their deliberate thoughtfulness. Then the surprises, the people to whom I’d cast a wide net but wasn’t sure they would rise to the occasion; the recognition of handwriting from people long lost and a subsequent stirring of affection.

I guess I’d sort of expected not to get all 29 postcards back, but what surprised me in the end is which ones didn’t come home. Every flourish of childish excitement at the unexpected ones, I now realise is countered with a short sharp pang at those who didn’t deem the project important enough. Who didn’t deem me important enough.

Now the deadline has passed, I will admit that I secretly hoped somebody would ask me to get a tattoo, but oh well. I also hoped I would be given the justification to learn how to drive and learn some skills in the kitchen, so it evens out. Perhaps fortunately, the ever-prepared Jacob Sewell considerately provided me with four challenges instead of one. I’ve really only taken up 3 of them, but that at least takes my tally to 26 challenges.

That leaves me three challenges. For bonus points, I am filling the gaps.
1. Give blood.
2. Learn conversational Japanese.
3. Find out more about my parents.

Giving blood is something I’ve always thought I should do, since high school, but never got up the gall to go through with it. The Japanese sounds like a big one, but I really just want to learn enough to help me figure out where the train station is and how to order some sake when we visit there next July. It’s a flying visit, 4 nights in Tokyo, but I dare say that’s plenty of time to get tremendously lost on the way to the train station and accidentally order octopus brains. Hence, a basic understanding of Japanese would be nice. The parental thing is something I literally just came up with. My Mum and Dad got married late in proceedings and are quite inhibited about their lives before me and before each other. It’s intriguing. I have hints about who they were, but often I feel like I don’t really know them. They’re not big talkers.

I’ve also realised there are other goals I have quietly set for myself – the vegetarian Thursday thing; trying to read all of the books on our bookshelf before going to the store and drooling over more of them; drinking more water instead of soft drinks or cordial; the “no non-essential spending” weeks. I’d be doing these things anyway, so don’t worry, I’m not trying to cheat, but it is just curious the way we make these shifts without giving them too much thought.

And that was the weekend.

On Saturday morning, I woke up quietly buzzing. Wow! We’re going horseriding! And we’re driving there in our new car! And we’re going to hang out with Jaimi! Our lesson had been bumped forward to 1pm which meant more time to check out Jaimi’s hood and still fit in a well-deserved BBQ afterwards. I tried to piece together a suitable wardrobe, aware that my yoga pants were perhaps not quite as fashionable as I’d led myself to believe but wearing them anyway, and got out a notepad to plot a route northwards. It’s an easy journey but as only passenger and chief navigator I take my job very seriously.

We left late in the morning hoping the weather would hold out. I was secretly studying Ben manoeuvring the manual and chanting “2 to 3… 3 to 4…” in my head as the gears shifted. Then the oil light came on. And then the engine died. And then the power steering cut out. All this while we were going quite fast along Parramatta Road. Fortunately Crunk had enough steam and Ben had enough wits about him to idle into a side street without causing too much chaos. We knew there was nothing wrong with the oil – a new filter had been put in the day before. This is the second time this had occurred, but the first since we’d sold a kidney to pay for repairs. Ben got the car started again and we elected to head home rather than challenge the volatile teenaged wreck with our lives. The horses weren’t going anywhere (well, not out of the valley anyway).

So the car still sucks, and no horses – double whammy.

On the plus side, it freed up our afternoon to go and crash Carla’s birthday non-party. We fitted in a BBQ after all, just before a massive thunderstorm ripped through north Sydney, all lovely and humid.

The rain continued the next morning and almost washed out our gig. They cancelled all the acts right up to us and just told us to “sit tight”. I gave up and went to bed with my Danny Wallace book, but then it cleared enough for them to get the gear onstage, so I had to get my shit together. Thank goodness for that. It was only 3 songs, but it was such a treat to play on a stage with enough room for me to jump around on when usually we are trying to avoid giving each other concussions with our instruments.

One quarter down...

Captain’s Blog, belatedly summarising on the first quarter of absurdity.

#1 – The Fundraising Ball. Ugh. I have not thought any more about this and will really have to think of a plan of attack soon if I’m to pull it together in any way that will be even mildly successful.
#2 – The Other Fundraiser. As previously mentioned, 3 fundraising events is a bit much, so unfortunately for Tracey, this one has been merged.
#3 – Laughing Strangers. 12 weeks, 2 laughs. It is a pitiful tally. I keep having lots of ideas on how to make this work, but chickening out of them. Time to grow some metaphorical balls.
#4 – i. Mediation. My consistency leaves a little to be desired, but I am definitely meditating a lot.
ii. Good Deed a Week. Did anybody else notice that I totally disregarded this challenge? My bad. This was before I realised I wasn’t going to get a full 29 challenges. Maybe I should pick this up.
iii. Song Per Month. I’ve written… 2.5 of them. Only that pesky .5 to go, and I could probably knock it on the head if I wasn’t so pedantic about the whole thing.
iv. 26km Coast Track. I think we’re going to do this in late January.
#5 – Songs About Challenges. I’ve written… 2.5 of them. But the lyrics are good.
#6 – Bathurst. I contacted that guy, but never heard back. I should try harder.
#7 – Gospel. Finally, a challenge I can claim to have actually advanced on! I’ve been accepted as a member of the choir and are attending rehearsals every week.
#8 – Children’s Hospital. Before I delve too far into this one I need to learn some children’s songs.
#9 – Harbour Walks. I’m really lagging on this one. I went to buy ‘sensible walking shoes’ and came back with some Adidas Shelltoes. Hmm.
#10 – Driving. I’ve only had 4 lessons, but we did purchase a car. Unfortunately it doesn’t like us very much and I am scared to get in it, but I’m hoping this will pass.
#11 – Tasmania. All booked in for the first weekend in February… although now I think of it we should maybe book some accommodation.
#12 – Scrapbooking. I pressed some flowers. That’s about all the progress I’ve made on this one this month.
#13 – Cooking. I’ve been dabbling in the kitchen every now and then. Schnitzel is next on my list.
#14 – TV. Why hasn’t anybody called me? Note to self: register for Letters & Numbers.
#15 – Horseriding. This update requires an entirely separate post.
#16 – Sydney to Gong. The ride is only 13 days away. I am freaking out.
#17 – Reunion Dinner. I tracked down the old parish priest and I must get back in touch and see if we can lock in a date. Wow.
#18 – Breakdancing. Matt & Cassie threatened to change their challenge, but it’s too late now. I will deal with this one next year.
#19 – The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter. Indeed it is. I finished the book, and went through the emotional ringer getting there too. What a story.
#20 – Yeats. No progress.
#21 – Youtube. Same old, same old.
#22 – Busking. I have got a couple of songs under my belt now, but not yet a full repertoire.
#23 – Cliff. Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you about this one. Apparently I have to jump off a cliff. A specific one, into water. You’re not supposed to, but people do it all the time, so they say. If your friend told you to go jump off a cliff, would you do it? I guess I have to…
#24 - #29 – This also requires a separate post: Friend Fail.

The first time I did a monthly summary, it made me feel a lot better about my overall progression with the whole thing, and got me gee’d up and excited about it… I must admit, it’s not working quite so well any more… bring on November…?

Bike maths

It took me 35 minutes to ride into work this morning – new personal best. Self esteem win. I did however have another high flying business jerk dangerously cut me off on Abercrombie St at whom I yelled the C word very loudly, so I’m also glad I didn’t get arrested. Ben’s got some new App on his phone that tracks his journeys and gives him a reading of his average speed, distance travelled, etc. It’s pretty cool and significantly cheaper than buying one of those fangled bike computers. Yesterday he did 9.94 kms in 27.14 mins, so that’s looking like just over 4 hours to get down to Wollongong. A worthy target. Me, I guess I’m averaging out at around 40 minutes for 8.2kms, so that brings me in at the slightly less impressive time of 7.3 hours. Ben leaves at 6.30am so as expected will probably be frolicking in the ocean or gorging on French toast well before 11am. I leave at 8am so I’ll be lucky to arrive before 4pm. Yikes. Carly has tried to alleviate my concerns by reminding me that she doesn’t even own a bike yet... but I'm not sure if it's working.

It’s the 22nd, and I need to record my 2 songs. Jacob’s is entitled “Tiny Mantis” and is about distracting myself from bigger issues by watching the wildlife directly outside my window. Bart’s is entitled “The Ballad of the Substandard Cyclist” and is rather self-explanatory. To be honest, neither of them are 100% complete, but I was kind of hoping that if I pointed behind you and yelled “hey look at that really interesting thing over there!” nobody will notice.

Oh yeah, and we’re playing at Marrickville Festival on Sunday for a blazing hot 20 minutes. Come and be amazed! And also, make yourself sick on gozleme. But mostly be amazed.

Meditation update

I have been practising meditation in a range of formats and with fluctuating levels of success. Here is a pretty exhaustive list of stuff I’ve tried:

- Sitting cross legged
- Sitting against a wall
- Kneeling
- Lying down
- In the bath
- On the train
- Outdoors
- Vibrational meditation (ie. Chanting and mantras)
- Breath watching
- With music
- Without music
- With audio instruction (these are really helpful)
- With binaural sound recordings (this seems to work best for me)
- Focussing on one sound
- “Empty mind” meditation (I am terrible at this)
- “Mindful” meditation (trying to become super aware of everything)
- Eyes closed
- Staring at a candle
- Staring into middle distance
- Wii Fit Zazen (My highest score is something like 96 seconds… but frankly I’m not sure it counts as meditation)

My dedication to this task has been abysmal of late. I have started setting an alarm so that I am forced to go at a certain time and find somewhere to meditate, and I think it is important to do it at work whenever I can. It is entirely necessary. I spend a lot of time internally talking myself out of quitting. My boss calls it “highly strung”.

Lift me up like a doooo-oooove

It has been officially three weeks since I became a probationary member of the Glory Bound Groove Train, and all is well. Sonya and I (another girl who joined on the same day) have been told that paperwork pending, we’re in. I guess now is the time I should come clean about the 29 Before 30 thing, just in case this only lasts until the end of the year. I hope not, though. I’ve had a couple of rough Tuesdays, and there is a strange calm in singing about the Good Lord fixing things (regardless of your religious inclinations) and losing your voice within the community of warm tenors, beefy basses and twangy sopranos. Maybe it sounds cliché, but it does something uplifting for the spirit.

It's a very laid back affair, but at the same time it feels satisfying to be getting into the nuts and bolts a little bit - phrasing, how to breathe, dynamics.

And we have a ‘gig’ coming up! Early December. It’s in a pub in Glebe so that is excellently familiar, and a lovely way to lazy summer Sunday afternoon - just add Pimms. (Everyone seemed to think it was quaint when I produced a pen and diary to note the date. Regardless of being one of the youngest members of the group I think I’m probably the only one without an iPhone, and I’m totally ok with that).

**hrumph**

Crunk, our car, has just unburdened us of almost the same amount of money that we paid for him in repairs, so that’s nice. The dangers of being so desperate for a car and wanting to see good in people. Hey Ramzi, you’re a jerk! Consequently, I’m a jerk too, particularly in my workplace where I’m starting to think knowing what you’re doing isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

I have some kind of eye infection, I think, which has been plaguing me for a couple of days. Relevant? No. Thematic? Yes. I will stop being grumpy soon. Promise.

Overwhelmed

I am now officially too busy to do anything, ever. This is multi-tasking at its most ridiculous level. It's Monday morning and I am no longer in denial about my desire – nay, necessity – for energy drinks. I’m wondering exactly at what point I decided my life wasn’t full enough as it was, who had spiked my drink at that time, and how I should punish them. Unfortunately, the more I think about it, the more acutely aware I am that this was my own preposterous idea.

What Would Danny Wallace Do? Quit his day job? If my day job was writing articles for the paper about how awkward my life is, it probably wouldn’t be this crazy. It would fuel itself. I bought ‘Awkward Situations for Men’ on the weekend as a reward to myself and am hoping it will somehow inspire me… another idea that is slowly dawning on me as not-very-well-thought-out. Also, the 22nd is 4 days away and I still have 2 songs to write. This is a problem because I have choir tomorrow, dinner on Wednesday, and band rehearsal on Thursday, but I’ll figure it out somehow.

I was asked to join Briscoe as a full-time band member, to which I immediately reacted in 2 ways: soul-leaping joy, and brain-constricting tiredness. Dusker have a lot of shows coming up, which means more frequent rehearsals, and doubling that worries me. But, you only get out what you put in, eh? I love that band too much to turn it down. I was thinking about sticking with the gospel choir longer-term but now know that the only sane thing to do would be to drop out once we’ve done a live performance and I can tick the box; free up some time for the next thing. I rode my bike again today but my head and lungs were working against my legs, and it felt like pedalling while being hugged by an octopus. I know I’m in an emotional trough right now and this will pass soon enough, but the fact of the matter is I’m still in a trough, and the pigs are looking in, and it smells a bit like rotting food scraps.

BUT! We booked our flights back to the UK over the weekend (our departure date is July 24th, 2 days after my 30th) AND we bought a car. Damn straight, we are people of action. It’s a 1997 VW Polo and it is Fully Sick, something us middle-class inner-west vegetarians-on-Thursdays bicycle-riding herb-growing white folk are going to have to work on. We’ve already removed the crass medallions from the rear view mirror and the Everlast car seat covers, but it’s the embarrassingly loud modified exhaust muffler that really needs to go. I’ll post a picture of it once I’m a bit more organised.

Our rescheduled horseriding lesson is happening this Saturday, so now we can even drive out to Glenworth Valley instead of catching the stinky old train. Amazing.

We also bought a new Jamie Oliver cookbook, 30 Minute Meals. I really dig the style it has been written (step by step through the whole meal, not just one section of it at a time. So for example it tells you to take care of the potatoes after you’ve done your bit with the meat, and then while the potatoes are doing their thing you go back to turn the meat and then you can start on the salad, or whatever). He’s still Jamie Oliver though so mostly it’s hard for me to get past the fact he’s a bit of a twat, but I have warmed to him somewhat over the years. Still, I resent having to go hunting for fennel seeds. Also, it took me 50 minutes to cook only 2 of the 4 components of his 30 minute meal, but that's probably saying more about me than it is about him. Just as well it tasted good.

Blowholes and buses

I've only had one so far, so I don't have much for a point of comparison, but Wedding Anniversarys seem to be pretty great. Happy 1st year, Ben Husband Pask! We had a little getaway down the south coast where we discovered that the Little Blowhole is more excellent than the Big Blowhole, coastal walking tracks are not greatly signposted, the Vietnamese restaurant is top class, and if you keep your eyes peeled on the ocean for long enough, you might even spot an unexpected and beautiful pod of whales. Good times.

Some interesting outcomes arose from the weekend, one being that Cityrail thoughtfully chose to have track work on the day we travelled down and consequently made our journey 4 hours long rather than 2. We were made to get off the train at Waterfall and take a rail replacement bus to Wollongong. Buses obviously travel less by rail and more by road. The road that is going to become more familiar to us in a few weeks time when we are pedalling feverishly along it (or potentially, when I am dragging my bike along the side of it). Needless to say, it was a little daunting. Even Ben felt a lump in his throat.

Secondly, we are officially tired of public transport. We have done our time with buses and trains, and even hire cars with their stranglehold of garage opening/closing hours, forcing us to drive through the loathsomeness that is East Sydney. The decision was planted and swiftly germinated into a hulking great oak - we're going to purchase a car. True story.

Speed blogging

I have decided I would like to have Louis Theroux over for dinner. And a drink or seven. He seems like a charming individual, although I fear that Ben and I are a little less interesting than the weirdos he usually finds himself hanging out with.

As work descends into absolute chaos again, I am finding the gap widening between things I have to say and the time allocated to saying them. Here’s a brief rundown:

- Ben and I went to the south coast for our 1st wedding anniversary. We saw whales, completely by accident. It was awesome.
- I got another postcard. It’s dangerous.
- I went to my second gospel choir practice. It sounded pretty.
- I have not been riding my bike, because I suck. Must get back on tomorrow.
- I finished reading The Heart is a Lonely Hunter. … I can’t even think of what to say about this.

I have many more things to say on all of the above subjects but for now this will have to do. Come to the Sly Fox tomorrow night if you want to talk to me about them in person. Dusker are onstage at 9.30pm.

Lonely hearts in Georgia

All is not right in the world of John Singer. Mick’s little brother accidentally shot Baby in the head, and now the family has to pay for her medical costs and can barely afford to live any more; Willie, the doctor’s son, had horrific things done to him in jail, and now Copeland is losing faith in the world; Mick has moved from puberty into a heartbreakingly sad little exploration with the opposite sex; and Singer still misses the only person he considers to be a true friend, Spiros. I have a feeling this can’t end well.

I'm gonna let it shine!

Things that maybe should have been more obvious before last night:

1. Alto! I am one!
2. Sight singing! I am good at it!
3. My ears! They are clever!
4. Gospel harmonies! Beautiful and amazing! If I pay enough attention, this could do wonders for my songwriting.
5. Vocal warm ups! What a concept! I should do them!

I totally did not suck in my new gospel choir, which is super awesome news. Self esteem win. They are brilliant! There were only 10 of us last night, 3 of whom (including me) were new to the group, so it was a lot smaller than expected, but what they lack in numbers they make up for in volume. The choir leader was lovely and welcoming, big on charisma and obviously very good at what she does, and my nerves settled quite quickly as I came to terms with what I was doing and the sound that was being created around me. Having got through the initial awkwardness of the first session, I feel like a part of the group already. They are an affable, friendly bunch, and I can see myself looking forward to Tuesdays.

We started with some stretches and warm ups, and followed with a 'Circle Song', which is basically any kind of simple gospel standard, sung while standing in a circle with ours eyes closed, holding hands. This was a bit weird at first, particularly as I didn't know the song, but I started to get the feel for it and just let the voices wash over me. I later learned that there is no structure to a circle song, everyone just picks up a random harmony as the verses go along (sometimes resulting in a little more dissonance than intended, but mostly wonderful), and throwing in an old fashioned holler every now and then for good measure. We then learnt three songs (I figured out that the tenors get all the best harmonies – the weird ones like the sevenths) and at the end of two hours, had another circle song to close, before dispersing into the night with light in our spirits and souls. Hallelujah!

Bike face

Wow, getting back on the bike after 3 days off is a killer. It’s mostly a mental leap, though, I think. How ‘hard’ I worked is often reflected in the colour of my face on arrival. Today was somewhere around fuchsia.

Holy lasagne

I finally heard back from my old parish priest. Let me explain. Heath's challenge was set out thusly: Re-organise a meal with Father Harry Cotter (wherever he is) and have all the original people there that was at the first one, and cook the lasagne.

Back in my early high school days, I attended a small Catholic school. I'm not going to lie, it was a bit horrible. Not because of the school itself, I suppose, more to do with the fact there were only 14 kids in our graduating Year 10 class, only 4 of whom were girls, and most of whom I shared little-to-no interests with. Music, however, was always a good salve, and Heath and I spent a lot of time singing in church for school masses. Heath is actually the only person I spent my entire school life with. Our stage debut was in Kindergarten - a production of Peter Rabbit where he played Mr McGregor (I can still picture him waving his tiny pitchfork at that darned rabbit) and I was a garden cat (it was a non-speaking part that mostly involved staring into a fishpond). In second grade, I learnt I could hit more high notes than most and was cast as Snow White, which is ironic since I was possibly the darkest kid in the class. Heath was already well aware of his musicality and was cast as Prince Charming. So began years of eisteddfods, school choirs, stage productions, performances, and a thankfully-short-lived covers band in which I convinced myself I could play drums for a while.

Anyway, I digress - during our later stints doing psalms in 2-part harmony, we started getting invited over to Father Kevin Barry-Cotter's place after church for what has gone down in history as some of the greatest lasagne ever created. Now, I remember the Christmas where we accidentally set his advent wreath on fire (don't worry, we managed to extinguish it before Father BC came back into the room), but I'm slightly ashamed to say that I don't recall much about this group dinner that Heath is talking about. I have a fairly good idea who would have been there. I've contacted a few of those people and so far all seem remarkably open to the idea of a reunion, even though nobody seems to know exactly who was present.

I tracked down Father BC. I had actually already tracked him down prior to my wedding when I was having a small religious crisis, but it turned out he had no recollection of who I actually was. Reassuring. So I was pleased to receive confirmation this morning that he is still in Cootamundra, a town 400kms-ish from Sydney, and a few hours from my old hometown. The message was from one of the Sisters on his behalf as he is on sick leave, but apparently he is delighted to hear from me! So I've been advised to call after the 17th when they expect him to be back on his feet. In the meantime I guess I should figure out who else was at dinner.

PS. Working on a public holiday is great. I'm actually getting stuff done. They should let me have the building to myself more often.

Sponsorship grovel

The countdown is on to Wollongong. Who are my mystery benefactors? I have been wondering this for some time. I had 2 donations of $10 each, and somebody very generously donated $120. I don't know who it is so I can't thank them, but I guess they must read this blog, so whoever you are, thank you. Between the three of us, Team Hollier-Pask (or Team HP for short) have raised $1335 for MS so far. Not too shabby.

Due to the rain I've not ridden for 3 days, so that's a bit bad. I didn't want to talk to my Wii Fit after it told me that my 2 weeks of riding had gained me 2 kilos. Self esteem fail.

If you've not donated yet, please sponsor me! It's for a good cause and it's also tax deductable!

Ring a ding ding

It's an overcast, dreary evening, at the end of a week where the weather decided to skip from winter straight to summer, and then suddenly remembered its supposed to do spring first. I spent the morning stretching my vocal chords (and spending some quality time with my new super best friend Bam the staffy) at Day Job Studios with Briscoe for what is going to be one hell of a record. We're about to head over to Matt & Cassie's place to partake in several wee drams of whiskey, but first I thought I best catch up on a few things.

I've taken to riding my bike as my main method of getting to work. Changing my thinking so that 'this is just what I do', rather than 'should I do this today?' seems to be working. There are only 36 days left until the Gong Ride and if I think too hard about that, it makes me quite anxious. So I just get up, get on the bike, get into work, and now it is just a part of my day. I can make it up the 'big hills' now - Terminus Street, Trade Street, and to a lesser extent, Albermarle Street, and while I always have to talk myself back to earth after Terminus, I'm definitely improving on some level.

I've been thinking a lot about the utilisation of a bicycle for making strangers laugh. You can ride straight in and out of the situation for maximum impact, which works if you get the laugh, but more importantly, works if you don't get the laugh and need to escape with embarrassment. Dogs are another good 'in' point. They are such a great catalyst for conversation.

Being a hesitant cyclist, I don't use my bell very often. Generally if I'm on the footpath, I probably shouldn't be, so I'll just trundle on behind pedestrians until I get a chance to move around them. I only use them if I'm on a bike path.

With these things in mind, Thursday's cycle was successful in 2 ways. I was coming home along Baltic Street, and 2 guys were sitting out on their front porch, singing with bar-room enthusiasm. One was vigorously strumming a ukelele and they seemed to come to the end of their piece just as I wheeled past. I rang the bell as my offering to the finale. One of them threw his hands up in the air in triumph and they both whooped and laughed. Thank you, occupants of Baltic Street, for being my second laughing stranger(s).

Coming up the home stretch, my legs fatigued and so I moved onto the footpath. A small curly-haired toddler seemed to think I was the most amazing thing he'd seen in ages. "Mum!" he hollered, "Mum! Bike! Bike! Bike!" As I went past, I rang my bell at him, and his little face lit up. "It's a nice one!" I overheard him exclaim to his mother, before yelling "BYE!" after me. I returned the farewell and rode the final block feeling pretty sunny inside.

The toddler didn't actually laugh so I can't count him, but I still thought it was a nice story.

The following night, my back light fell off and smashed and it took me ages to fumble around in the dark lane looking for where the batteries had rolled to. Then closer to home, I had my first altercation with the part of the chain coming off. For a while I flusterred over it, then I calmed down and realised it was very easy to fix. My hands got greasy. I think that means I'm a proper cyclist now.