Tardy, tardy, tardy…

Morning folks

I trust this blog finds you in top form and fine fettle.
Ambling aimlessly into Autumn promted me to scrawl a 4th blog of the year.
Not really taking full advantage of my WordPress subscription, such procrastination does make me wonder how on earth I ever managed to patch together a weekly version of this claptrap back in the day.
Perhaps there was more going on in daily Lima life than in sleepy North Yorkshire?

Anyroad, here is a wrap-up of the latest Taddy bobbins.

Carry on camping.

After the best British summer since dinosaurs lived on Blackpool Beach, we had only managed to get away in the Mystery Machine once this year, so I squeezed the life out of what was left of a semi-decent forecast and did 2 trips in 2 weekends.

The first sorte was up t’Lakes, my first time back home in 4 years.
(More in Raiders Round-up).

The second jaunt was up to the White Horse, not Northern Canada, but to North Yorkshire, a visual spectacle we can just about see from our gaff and an area I had never been to, and what a place.

The North York Moors is normally an area whizzed through en-route to the East Coast, but it is well worth a stop.
Quick plug for Jill in the Sutton Bank Visitor Centre, who was an absolute star!
Giving us loads of info, maps (and discounted Kendal Mint Cake), visitor centres are normally places I would avoid like the plague, but this was a bit different.

A chilly old night caught me out with my one-season sleeping bacg, but gave way to a gorgeous dawn and cracking day for a walk.

Striking camp broke all records for faffing, dawdling and taking excessive time to pack up, but we did manage a quick sprint round the White Horse itself, without getting moved down by a glider.

Well worth a visit 🙂

LC summary.

It has been a funny old year in the/my world of sport and not funny-haha.

After kicking the ale into touch and even ditching coffee, there were not many vices left, so I had BIG running plans for 2022, however C19 had other ideas…

After 4 GP visits, 3 hosital visits and seeing 2 speciailists, I am not really any the wiser. I am not entirely sure what “Long Covid” is?
Defined by the NHS as “signs and symptoms that develop during or after COVID-19 and continue for more than 12 weeks and are not explained by an alternative diagnosis.“

I got it in the New Year, wasn’t especially badly with it, but never quite recovered from it. A good analogy I heard is that it is like being a crappy, old clapped-out phone; never fully recharging, battery running out quickly, not quite advanced enough to receive updates, but just about getting by.

(I sold my Nokia and have now entered the 21st century with a smartphone, but that is another story!)

In August I thought, enough is enough and started doing some very, very steady training, jogging/cycling to/from work and actually started to think “I am over this $h!t now”, I was keeping my heart rate as low as possible and even thinking about racing in 2023, which was a mistake as Long Covid then roundhoused me and put me on my ar$e again!

The Pulmonologist said that I have “Autonomous dysfunction which is “when the autonomic nervous system, which controls functions responsible for well-being and maintaining balance, does not regulate properly.”

The Cardiologist said that I might have minor heart block which is “when the electrical impulses that control the beating of the heart muscle are disrupted.”

So, I am awaiting further tests on my ticker and seeing the Lung Lady in December.

When I go to bed, pretty much exactly 4 hours after laying my weary head down I wake up unable to breathe. I don’t have asthma but the only thing that seems to work is to use Lina’s inhaler. My watch tracks my sleep and it is always 4hrs after I hit the hay. Off to the Quack this Tuesday, (after getting a rocket off the receptionist for using someone else’s medication. It was that or not breathe, so it wasn’t really a hard choice to make for me!)

There are people far, far worse off. I occasionally go on a forum called “Covid for Endurance Athletes” and some of the folk on there are in a very bad way, but in all manner of different ways. This bloody virus manifests itself in so many forms, or not at all. It is bizarre!

Life begins at 50?

Physically, I am not quite sure about that statement.
Mentally, no comment!

I have never been ill, ever or in such bad shape, but hopefully that will change.
Inconclusive sums it up. watch this space…

Let it go…

A few years back the Nipper told me a joke.
Q: “Why can’t the lass (whose name I have forgotten) from Frozen hold a balloon?”
A: “Because she would let it go!”

For much of my time in Limaland I was in a complete radge, things would wind me up (some were justified) and a lot of things frustrated me. Difficult to explain, but stuff you don’t get on your jollies, it’s the nitty-gritty stuff you get when you live in a place; red tape, traffic, noise, the usual suspects, but you make your bed, etc…

My good mate Lloyd, who I first went to Peru with in 2004 has lived in Lima a l-o-n-g time now and he is still completely sane, testament to his character. He used to tell me “Let things go…” when I was having my usual grumble, to which I replied “Yeah, yeah” but didn’t take a blind bit of notice, continuing my “Falling Down” life…

He was absolutely right!

“Life is not linear” is a phrase I once heard somewhere and dismissed it as b0ll0ck$, but now I realise it is right.
If you do things A, B & C , does it get you to D?
No, you generally do A, B & C then get rhubarb crumble, if you are lucky, or back to A, or arrive unexpectedly at R.

It has only me taken me about 10 years to finally work this out…

8-double-0-9, the Angler’s Line…

In the absence of running and pedalling, I need something new to enthuse over.

Going back in time, when I were a lad, growing up in Cumbria, before the days of PS3s, Tetris and Blackberry phones, most of the lads from the village went fishing. It rained most of the time, as it does in the Lakes. None of us really knew what we were doing, we rarely caught any fish, but we always had a laugh.

Fast forward to 2022, when I realised that I wasn’t going to racing (running nor CX) any time soon, I got my thinking cap on for an activity that was:

a) Cheap
b) Local
c) Doable.
d) Maybe something that the bairn might enjoy too.

So, we have been doing a lot of fishing have me and the bairn, with mixed results, but it has been a lot of fun 🙂

Boat fishing in sunny Whitby, getting nowt in Tad River, getting muddy at Malton and cleaning up at the Mushroom Pond.

Angling ain’t everyone’s cup of chai, but it is keeping me sane right now and mackerel is tasty when you’re hungry and fish and chips are over a tenner!

Peru reflection – Part I.

A lot to ponder about.
Next time…

Raiders round-up

WHAT A SEASON!

After being promoted, the Raiders were favourites to go straight down again, but they came out of the blocks in a winning mood and kept on (generally) winning to finish in 4th spot, gaining a place in the Play-offs.

Drawn at home versus Batley Bulldogs, it was a golden opportunity for the girls to watch their first ever rugby league match and an excuse for a flying trip to the South Lakes (Peninsula).

The Romans never quite made it to Barrow in Furness, nor is there a direct route (without a boat, or locally sourced submarine) and Audrey Roberts was once quoted as saying that “Alf took me to Barrow in Furness, it was like going to the end of the earth, then driving 50 miles further!”

With this in mind, we set off at the crack of dawn and thus arrived ridiculously early, but there was a special deal for early arrivers, a £5 tucker voucher, which we reinvested in some hefty meat and tatty pies. Securing a great spot in the sunshine, with a pitch side view picnic table, life was good, but a huge black cloud dispelled my “It won’t rain today” theory and we retreated to the back of the stands.

The Raiders were without 5 of their forwards and Captain Stack, who being a Bobby, was down the Old Smoke for the Queen’s funeral, so we were up against it. Batley are a big side and after what seemed like a first half war of attrition, Batley broke the deadlock right on the hooter and despite a spirited second half by the luckless Raiders, the Bulldogs ran out winners 18 points to Barrow’s 8.
(After unexpectedly beating the Featherstone Flat-Cappers, the Bulldogs booked themselves a place in the final against the formidable Leigh Centurions, but it was one-way traffic and Leigh went up).

Barrow FC and SuperLeeds are both on winning ways too right now, long may it last 🙂

Part II of our little adventure didn’t quite go to plan, does anything these days?

We had booked in at a campsite in Ulverston called “Candlewyck”.
The website looked ok and booking had been simple.
After pitching up and dashing straight out to get some outstanding fish and chips at Priory Fishery, we headed back. It was raining and getting dark.
Primary investigations didn’t reveal any toilets anywhere, but just next to us were some big bell tents (like a teepee) which had a toilet tent behind.
A portaloo is better than a bush, so we presumed it to be the ablutions facilities. The young ‘un was inside the toilet tent when, like an angry tornado, the owner marched up “What are you doing? You can’t use that. It is for the yurt users and they pay £120 a night for a minimum of 2 nights…” Which continued on a loop, until I managed to get my question in, “Where are the toilets then?”
To which he replied “Don’t you have your own?”

I must have looked nonplussed at this point, as our van is just about big enough for 2 diddy folk (the girls) to sleep in, then it’s full.

“I’ll have to charge you” was his retort and demanded £10 on the spot.
I offered to clean it myself, but he was so radged by this point, and Valentina was a bit scared of this shouting man, that I coughed up and bit my tongue.

It put a dampener on an already damp evening.

There was nobody else on site, the portapotty wasn’t especially clean to start with and we all sat like naughty children in the awning until dark.
Next day I went to try and clear the air, but there was still tension and when I emailed, I never got a reply.

If you do decide to stay at Candlewyck campsite in Ulverston, take your own khazi and pay £20 to sleep in a field, or go elsehwere!

No more Cumbria?

On the 1st of April 2023, Cumbria will no longer exist, (not an April Fool’s day joke!)

I was born in Westmorland, which became part of Cumbria in 1974, now it is reverting back to Cumberland, Furness and Westmorland.

(Westmorland and Furness includes Barrow-in-Furness, Eden, South Lakeland, and Cumberland includes Allerdale, Carlisle, Copeland.
Cumbria is the third largest ceremonial county in England by area.