Thoughts that go through my head when I am out for a ride.

On the farmers trail

All in all, it has been a pretty good day today. Especially as my dad is now home from hospital. You see, about ten days ago, my dad wasn't well at all. He has had a terrible cough which has been going on for months, and over the weekend leading up to the 14th of April, two days before my fifty-seventh birthday, he looked and sounded dreadful. 

On the Sunday evening before I went to bed, I was really firm with my dad, saying, "Tomorrow you must make an appointment to see a Doctor". My dad promised he would. I was working part-time on Monday, and as I drove home, I got an unexpected phone call (Don't worry I have hands-free in my car). It was wor, Kyle, "Grandad has been admitted to  hospital, I am with him now, they are carrying out tests", he went on to say. "Okay, I am coming straight through", I replied.

Upon getting to the University Hospital of North Durham and not being able to find a parking space, let alone a disabled space, I became more and more stressed and irate. Muttering to myself "I fucking hate this hospital, it's so stupid, not fit for purpose" along with a string of other tirades. You know where I ended up having to park? Fucking Greggs over at Framwellgate Moor. In fact, I parked there two days running, asking permission from the friendly staff and buying half the shop as I felt guilty.

Before I move on, I may as well stop on the parking front. One day, whilst I had entered the carpark and drove around to see if there was an available disabled spot, I saw that this lady was pulling out. I pulled just past her with the intention of then reversing in. Guess what? This fat useless fucker nipped in just as the lady pulled out. I was fuming, so I reversed back, beeped my horn as I wound my window down and said to the driver, "Did you not see I had asked the lady if she was coming out? What do you think I was parked there with my indicator on for? To which this rather obese bald bloke angrily got out of his car and said "What do you fucking think I have been waiting around there for?'. There was a quick back and forth of words, some of which I don't think I should write down here, but put it this way, one of them rhymed with "Hunt". I then had to drive back around and, fortunately, found a spot in the paid car park. Isn't it funny how you can think of a hundred more things to say that would be a lot more entertaining once you are away from a situation? For example, I may have said " You fat fuck the walk would do you good", or " Keep your hair on". I couldn't believe it when one of the fat bloke's retorts was "Errrr you old git", I mean, how did he know I was about to turn 57?

Apart from the parking, the staff over at Durham were fantastic with my dad, and by all accounts, they didn't want him to leave as he was a "star patient". So following a diagnosis of pneumonia and being on steroids, antibiotics and a fair amount of oxygen, I am pleased to say I picked my dad up for his release on Wednesday, so that is ten days he had been in. Thank God he is home and on the mend because I hate going food shopping with a passion. I may only have one leg, but I go around like the Tasmanian Devil, just chucking stuff in me basket in a "Get me out of here" fashion.

This morning, around 08:00, I thought I would pamper my dear old dad, so I made him a sausage and bacon sandwich, with a nice hot cup of coffee and brought it up to his bedroom. The pair of us then just chilled, in fact, I had a bit tinker on with the book I was writing, and then it was time for me to go and get my haircut. My dad kindly offered to take me, so I took him up on this. Man, my hair is going grey, yes, I know it is partly due to my age, however, these steroids I have been on and off since last year have played havoc with my follicles. My hair has been dropping out, and even my eyebrows are now almost all white. I feel proper old when I look in the mirror, and yet my mental age well, that is still somewhere in I would say early twenties. I guess I could dye my bits n bobs, it may make me feel better; however, then I ask myself, am I really that vain?

Coming out of the hairdresser's and having left my phone in dad's car, when I checked it, I saw that there was a new post on Facebook, written by my dad. Upon reading it, I had to swallow back the tears, as my dear old Pops had written some very kind words. Call me a big softie, I don't mind. I readily admit I can be a sensitive soul, part of which is due to certain traumatic experiences throughout life that I will always carry with me.

Upon arriving back home, I rushed to get in and have a shower. I hate the feeling when I have just had my hair cut and all the prickly little hairs are on my clothing, like around my neck, irritating me, "Ahhh, that's better".

Straight out of the shower, a quick dry, some gel in my hair, and I got to look my best as I intended, going out on my bike to attempt to get a picture to pop on the front of my aforementioned book. It didn't take me long at all to get ready, quite an achievement for me, as usually I am always searching for some specific article of mountain bike clothing or equipment.

Happy to be out

Off on my Santa Cruz Heckler,  I headed, going so far up the farmer's trail, before stopping for a photo opportunity. I have written about the farmer's trail

extensively in my book, so I thought it might make for an interesting image. I had this idea of a picture which was taken from one I had seen Sean Connery as James Bond, standing next to his Aston Martin DB5. It was shot in black & white, and I thought a similar picture would look jolly good on the front cover of my book. I mean, I am neither Sean Connery nor James Bond, but hey, people could see I rode a bike and had a unique sporting prosthetic.

Think I like this B&W for the front cover of  my book

Setting off again up the farmer's trail, I met a friendly man walking his dog, and we began having a chat about nothing in particular. We spoke for some time as we went from the back end of East Stanley all the way down into No Place, then we said our goodbyes, and I headed off down towards Beamish. Reaching Beamish, I cut down onto the C2C, passing the JCB cows and headed all the way up past Stanley and went along to Annfield Plain. I then cut in at the Morrison through the gates and fences near the power station. Gutted here as I clicked my brand new Endura jersey on some damn thorn bushes as I tried to squeeze between them and the gate post. Man, it was really, really overgrown in this area, more so than I have ever seen it, with all the whiny bushes out in bloom with yellow flowers and those dagger-like thorns.

Santa Cruz Heckler SL CC

Had to come past all the whiny bushes

Riding onto Chapman Wells where the foot and mouth cows were buried, I took a detour through another one of those large swivel-like gates, reaching my bike over the barbed wire fence. I then set up my GoPro, which seemed to take ages, to try and capture some "On the bike Shots", as I passed my camera. Total fail, I realised upon looking at the footage when I got home. All I had was about 12 images of a large tree, no Glenn or his bike insight - delete.

Over by the pond at Chapman Wells

Picturesque

I did manage to get some more shots over by the pond at Champpman Wells. On the approach to the pond at Quakies, my nose was running as it had been from the start, and me coughing, with a sense of my chest and lungs burning from this chest infection, plus with being so unfit. I suddenly became aware of an awful smell of dog shit. I stopped inspected my bike, and did that cursory thing where you try to look around at your back, just in case some of the mucky stuff had splashed up, but I couldn't see any. I rode a little further, but the smell was still there. Now I know I have been bad with my guts, but I was sure I hadn't shat myself. Never mind, by the time I reached the pond and then set off again, the smell had gone, maybe it was on one of my tyres, and the dusty trail had removed it.

Riding around, and it had been some time since my overactive imagination began whirring and words started popping into my head, somewhat like a poem of today's adventure. I have tried to recall what I was thinking and then wrote this.

  Just a little adventure

An Endless supply of drugs for an unknown disease. A string of antibiotics for a chesty wheeze.

A trip to the barbers to get my head sharpened in the same old style. It's now all old and grey, just like a vintage car its seen a fair few miles.

A ride out on my bike to clear my mind.Venturing around the same old loops searching for something new to find.

A dripping, snotty nose, wiped upon my sleeve. There goes that sodding cough again, that sounds more like a bark.

I then notice this smell that has been hanging around for at least the last half mile. I stop and check for dog shit to see if it's on my arse tyre or possiblyeven my shoe.

No horrible brown mucky fudge, but I curse nonetheless. Why do people just leave dog crap dotted around, it's even hanging in those little bags in trees.

I jump back aboard my steed and continue upon my ride. Until I come to a large pond and go to investigate and take a good few interesting snaps.

I love to be out in nature, to just relax and empty my mind. My reverie is broken, though, by the sound of some honking geese who land with an almighty splash.

Time to start off once again, I'm so pleased my ankle is holding up. It's now time for a climb up the farmer's trail, where once there was a bath.

Now at the top and heading along to Wagtail Lane, where the windmills are turning so slow. I love to hear their swooshing sound, and see the shadows of their blades.

It's now not too far from home, and a choice I have to make. Cut down by South Moor Golf Course or go the long way around.

Oh, and before I move on, I must say a huge thank you to my good, in fact, no, great mate Lee for his help in sorting out my cleats on my shoes and helping me to get in a much more comfortable position when riding my bike. Today, I didn't suffer from Achilles pain when out on the trails. I can feel a slight twinge now that I am sitting down typing this, however, it's nothing like the pain I experienced way back in December of last year when I did something to my ankle and heel.  So Lee, if you are reading this, thanks, and I will be out for a few rides with you hopefully soon.

Once at home, a quick change, and it was almost time for my weekly guitar lesson with my tutor, Tom. Tonight's session, man, I just couldn't get my head around. Sometimes I really, really do think I am as thick as two short planks. The simplest of things, and don't get me wrong, music and music theory are anything but simple, especially when you are trying to learn later in life, but at times things just go "Pheww" straight over my head, no matter how hard I concentrate or try. I am still enjoying trying, so, not about to quit. In fact, I am pretty proud that I can play along to some of my favourite songs using this app I have on my phone, called Chord AI.    

 

Once Tom had left, I began sorting out the photographs  I had taken, editing them and even placing text on the picture I had chosen to be my front cover. As for my book, I entrusted it to some friends & colleagues from work, so that they could have a read-through and help with any grammar, and punctuation and also offer feedback as to whether it is naff, interesting, or if it gets you hooked so that you want to delve deeper into my journey. So far, I have received some pretty positive feedback, and my cousin David has been an absolute superstar in practically editing, proofreading and offering advice. So a huge thank you to wor David, Sam, Jennifer, Krista,  Laura, wor Kyles's girlfriend, who both my dad and I have yet to meet, and who I haven't heard any feedback from as yet...Maybe she has read the book and now knows what a complete madman I am. Oh, and of course, The Ern, who helped me recall stories and also had the odd chuckle, so I knew I was going in the right direction.

Thank you, one and all.

Anyhoo, here is the final front cover image I have decided to go with. I also hopefully can include an inside cover that has some meaning that people will understand once the book is published. The book is 81,848 words long with 23 chapters, and I will let everyone know its pricing in the three formats I intend to have it come out in, so ebook, paperback and hardback. I wanted the hardback version as well, it will be like a sort of keepsake. Once published, I suppose I could add an author to my limited list of talents.

Lost2bFound - Glenn Johnstone

Okay, bye-bye for now.