Keithlard goes bikling

As part of essential investment in plant and equipment for Project Hott, I bought myself a bike :D

It is this bike:

The man at the shop was super helpful and friendly, and with his advice and Steve’s I got all the right accessories including lights, a big badass lock, Pitlock skewers that stop you taking the wheels off without the key, a garishly coloured helmet, and a special saddle that is electronically coded to my personal arse! OK not that last one. But hopefully it will not be nicked, even though I am too nervous to leave it anywhere out of my sight, so it is probably coming to bed with me later!

I have woken up with a few strange bed companions in my time, though most of them were at least recognisably human.

So I bikled back home from work, and it only took 0 hours and 25 minutes! That is super quick really as it takes longer by tube. And it was uphill. I am hugely unfit obviously but I did not find it too bad, so that is encouraging.

They were great at the shop and tuned up the bike and fitted all the accessories for free, and I get a free service after a month. So everyone should get all their bikes and bikling accessories from Jason at Cycle Surgery in Camden. That concludes this commercial messidge.

Now I am relaxing with a cold beer and Indian snacks! So it was a good day all around really.

Quite literally eat off my face

O vanity, vanity, it’s more pictures of me. Well I am simply responding to pressure from Mariposa and hundreds of other girls. The tragedy of the situation is that I do not really look like this at all, I am three midgets standing on each other’s shoulders inside a big coat, with an unconvincing rubber head.

Why don't you come up to the lab?

Inside my Dad’s workshop. This ancient Cossor oscilloscope, which he’s repaired so often as to have practically rebuilt it from scratch, dates from an era when people designed user interfaces with a satisfyingly large number of buttons and knobs.

The workbench. I think I inherited Dad’s love of engineering and making things, except I work with soft, virtual, digital machinery instead of wires and solder. Nonetheless we’re in the same business.

A couple of the many bits of equipment designed and built by Dad, including amplifiers, signal generators, preamps, oscillators, speakers, and even a Geiger counter. (He likes to be ready for anything.)

A genuinely antique wartime signal generator, rescued for posterity. The label ‘Unearthly’ does not indicate an extra-terrestrial origin, but merely that the apparatus is not earthed (it was built in the days when a good jolt of electricity was considered an essential pep-up in the mornings).

Around Grimshall

This is my Dad’s house and where I mostly grew up. It has lots of garden and an orchard and fields and woods, and a stream. I love it now, but I guess when I was a teenager I thought it was about the most boring place in the universe :D

A super garden seat that my Dad made. I like to sit out here in the morning sunshine with my coffee and leaf through New Scientist or watch the little birds coming to the kitchen door looking for breakfast.

I spent lots of my youth roaming around the neighbouring fields and valleys, looking for (a) excitemint, (b) drink, or (c) girls. I suppose I did not find much of any of them, so now I make sure I bring some of all three with me when I visit.

Wizzo poppies in the garden.

And so the curfew tolls the knell of another parting day and the moping owl does to the moon complain, of such as wandering near her secret bower, molest her ancient solitary reign (potry).

Here's one, Ted. How'd you get to Carnegie Hall?

I walked home from work today. It is quite a long way! It took me about an hour and a half, but it is quite a nice scenic walk, and it is all useful calorie burning excersise contributing to Project Hott.

A young man approached me as I was walking up the A1 near East Finchley, and the exchange went a bit like this:

Man: Excuse me, do you know where North London is?
Me: Errrr… (trying to work out how to put this politely) We’re pretty much in North London right now.
Man: So do you know where the Apollo Club is?
Me: Sorry, no.
Man: But this is North London?

I cannot think of any way of getting to Finchley, short of a personal jet-pack, or teleportation from the future, without being aware that you are in fact in North London. Alternatively, I suppose it is possible to be so enormously drunk that you lose all memory of the actual city that you’re in, although I usually cannot afford to drink that much.