Long Live Doctor Who?

It occurred to me today that I might well be unique inasmuch as I am fairly sure I have seen every episode of Doctor Who since that very first episode on the day after President Kennedy was assassinated in 1963. I say fairly sure because even to me it seems quite fantastic that in those days before video recorders I consistently managed to transpire to be in front of a television set on a Saturday evening. I must be deluding myself I know but I honestly believe that I have never missed a single one. I was hooked from the moment my father called us kids down to watch the very first episode An Unearthly Child. The child of the title was in fact the Doctor’s granddaughter Susan Foreman, who excelled in some subjects at school but showed a distinct lack of knowledge in others to the dismay of her teachers Ian Chesterton and Barbara Wright. Susan went to school in 1960’s Britain because she was stranded on Earth due to a malfunctioning TARDIS. The puzzled teachers followed Susan home one day and saw her disappear into a police telephone box situated in an old junkyard. Thus began the longest-running, and finest, sci-fi series of all time.

I was already a great fan of CS Lewis and the Narnia Chronicles so was used to the concept of snow-covered lands at the back of wardrobes but the TARDIS was such a brain-stretcher, it remains the same fascinating concept today as it was then. To see Ian and Barbara walk in and then walk out and around, as virtually every other assistant has done so since, before commenting “but it’s bigger on the inside” ensured a life-long addiction. At nine-years-old I bought the books and watched the Peter Cushing films and remember being so upset when William Hartnell turned into Patrick Troughton. Although William Hartnell will always be the best Dr Who for me, as he was the first, I soon enjoyed all the subsequent incarnations, in equal measure – they all brought something to the table and the character is so iconic, and complex, that it is almost impossible to miscast an actor in the role.

I remember settling down to see the second episode on the 30 November 1963 and was absolutely gobsmacked when the first episode was shown again. This was not advertised in the newspapers and we merely thought it was a mistake but the relief and joy when the second episode was shown immediately after has gone down in history as one of those iconic television moments. After a brief visit back to the cave-dwelling troglodytes we were transported to Skaro and the civil war between the Daleks and Thals. We were then transported to distant planets or to different time periods on Earth, always meeting the famous people of the day such as Marco Polo. I remember one storyline, The Celestial Toyroom, which literally terrified me as it became apparent that even the doctor was a mere pawn at the hands of the toymaker.

Why do I mention my love for the programme now?

My dear friend Gavin Fuller won Mastermind answering questions on Doctor Who and is far more knowledgeable about the programme than I could ever be but poor Gavin was born after the series began and so has to have a distorted view of the whole. Most fans tend to love the doctor who was incumbent at the time of their first cognisant viewing. Can someone who did not live through the 60s really appreciate The Beatles, or begin to understand their effect on humankind? It is the same with Doctor Who to a lesser extent, but in the same way as I had become slightly disillusioned with Paul McCartney since the McCartney/Lennon debacle and the Heather Mills thing I had also become slightly miffed at the way Doctor Who had been heading. Although the actors have been incredibly gifted since its return unfortunately the writers had made it almost a parody of itself with constant implied references to its iconic stature – and then along came Steven Moffat to breathe new life and spark. I watched the final series episode last weekend and was moved to tears for the first time in years. Steven is an incredible talent and probably the most underrated writer in Britain. Joking Apart was one of the best ever comedies on television. It was original and funny and so intelligently well written it was almost a scandal that it did not clean up on the awards front. Anyone who has a stand-up comedian as a friend will know what a nightmare these people can be off stage. It is part of what makes people laugh at them and Joking Apart portrayed this beautifully although making the leading protagonist something of a misunderstood hero too.

I am so looking forward to the next series of Doctor Who when I assume River Song (played surprisingly well by Alex Kingston) will play a fairly prominent role as her mysterious relationship with the doctor unravels.

Unlucky England footballers but Long Live Doctor Who!

Good health to you all but what does that mean?

I feel a little ashamed today.

I saw the surgeon the other day about the lump in my perineum area. He was a very affable man and began our conversation with a cheery “How are you?” which I always find a very strange opening gambit by a doctor as I quite obviously would not have the pleasure of his company if I were well!

Mr Williams was direct and no messing about at all – internal examination, MRI scan booked, advice and leaflets on a side issue of pruritus – oh and he advised me never to cycle again!!
A bit of an over-reaction I thought so I did the usual sportsperson thing and looked for someone who could tell me that this prognosis was nonsense. Alas I failed and the second opinion concurred with the first!!!

Although he hadn’t had my scan result yet the good doctor confirmed to me in writing that in his opinion the subcutaneous swelling can only be alleviated by non-cycling – possibly forever!
Reading those dramatic words panicked me a little as at my advanced age there is very little else I can do to keep fit and I am one of those sad creatures that feels the need to look after the body I was blessed with. Saying that, I am very aware that this desire for physical fitness is a mental condition and only last summer an eminent cardiologist told me that in his opinion I am as much a junkie as someone who injects heroin into their veins every day!

Again this doctor was quite wrong. I would not jeopardise my health by over-exercising and would/could stop if I were forced to.

At the moment I have compromised with the surgeon and agreed to change my saddles and have purchased a couple of odd-looking purpose-built perineum-friendly saddles that I shall relish testing when I am completely healed.

I had an appointment to get my ears syringed today at my local surgery and as I waited at reception I exchanged greetings with one of the doctors . His opening remark was “how are you?”.
I was inclined to respond “ apart from my two blocked ears, tinnitus, SVT, bad back, dodgy shoulder, calf and Achilles strains and the very depressing prognosis of my perineum infection – I’m not so bad”.
Of course I did the British thing and merely replied “fine thank you and how are you?”. The brief pause before his reply of “not so bad” told me that he was probably suffering worse than I at the moment!

Anyway, as per usual the nurse would not unblock my glue ears as they are forever pink and scaly so I just have to put up with deafness until they magically clear. I say as per usual as I have been referred for syringing several times recently but never actually managed to get the deed done for the aforementioned reason. I have been living in this strange world of muffled hearing every morning when I wake and it is quite disorientating. I go through a routine of trying to unblock them with a hot flannel and have had some success on good days but more often than not fail miserably so resort to pouring olive oil in them. This is the recent innovation in ear wax dispersion, the olive oil softens the wax and makes it easier to syringe out – although in my case it is back to the flannel.

Despite these irritating niggles I am actually in rude health and am always acutely aware that so many people have to confront real health issues which devastate their lives and they sometimes have no hope of reprieve.

You see the obsession with physical fitness tends to make all athletes finely tuned and just one short step away from hypochondria. I remember the actress Sheila Hancock saying once when being interviewed and asked about her health “mind you I’ve never felt quite right all my life– have you?” This sums up the condition of the inveterate exerciser.
Two old friends and fellow competitors in very different fields have been struggling with cancer recently.

I read today in the obituaries that Andy Ripley OBE finally succumbed to prostate cancer after a five-year battle with the disease. Andy was a one-off, a true extrovert. After his fantastic international rugby union career was ended so abruptly in 1976 he came to the Crawley area to live with his wife, Elizabeth and three young children and began to train with us although competing for Luton Polytechnic. I got to know him very well and loved his eccentricity and laid-back attitude. He would often spend his time playing with his children before training sessions and then just step on the track to complete an interval session. We often competed against each other in the Southern League where we would invariably both start the day in the 400 hurdles move on to the shot putt and then usually end up doing the high hurdles and relays. Andy was an inspiration to all around him and certainly inspired me to take up fitness competitions and indoor rowing after he won the World Superstars title in 1980 and numerous rowing titles throughout the nineties. You see Andy just loved keeping fit and had no airs and graces about his international career. I find it unusually upsetting that Andy is no longer with us as he was so full of life and I felt his work on earth was not yet complete – perhaps it was.

An old quizzing friend of mine, Mark Bytheway, was diagnosed with cancer two years ago and last October was told he might not make it to Christmas but in typical Mark fashion he has fought on defiantly and although now in a hospice he is fighting valiantly and even managed to enjoy the England versus USA game the other day with some old mates and a beer. Mark is a former British and World Quizzing champion and as much a one-off as Andy was. Mark is not your stereotypical quiz player. He can be bold and brash, brave, hard-drinking fearless but always brilliant. I remember Beadlebum had this great idea of asking all-comers to compete against me on an indoor bike whilst being asked trivial pursuit questions (only Jeremy could think that one up!) and Mark stepped onto the bike wearing his everyday clothes and proceeded to ride a faster time than all the other competitors despite never doing a jot of training. Only the other day Kev Ashman and I went to see Mark with another friend, Nigel. Mark was looking awful, jaundiced bright yellow and constantly vomiting black bile. He hadn’t spoken for a couple of hours as he was exhausted. Kev and Nigel were discussing Pat Gibson’s choice of Mastermind subject, the Pixar films, and had decided that it was not too difficult a subject as there were only nine of them. As we looked at Mark his fist began to open and then close and then open again. Mark was informing Nigel and Kev (the multi-world quiz champion) that there were 10 Pixar films to-date!! And of course he was quite right – sheer genius!

Now you see why I began this blog telling you I felt ashamed.

The most important aspect of our wellbeing is spiritual health – the physical state is often perceived by us to be vital in overcoming life’s vicissitudes when in fact a strong spiritual base can alleviate much of the grief experienced in our everyday lives. I know this sounds contradictory that on the one hand I admit the need for physical exercise as I clearly function better when serotonin levels are high but on the other hand I am saying that a strong relationship with God can make one feel full of joy whatever the physical condition might be. Jesus Himself was always surprised that man placed physical wellbeing in front of spiritual enlightenment.

Only one aspect of my Christian spirit can I feel confident about. You see among many other things Christianity is a desire. An earnest desire to walk in the shadow of our Lord Jesus and emulate his nature. A desire to do good, be good, see good in all people. A desire to put aside one’s original sin and natural evilness to reflect in an open and fair manner. A desire to be tolerant and to love and to forgive if sinned against in the same way that we ourselves have been forgiven.

Christians have this desire and try not to let their natural sinful nature destroy relationships. They inevitably fall short and cannot always find the right words or actions as they are fickle.
Although I am a Catholic I sometimes visit other churches than my local Friary to witness other Christians and sometimes other faiths. I visited the Crawley Baptist Church last week and had a wonderful evening. The first Sunday in each month is open house for all Crawley churches and the congregation tends to be like-minded in its respect for the Church in general. The visiting minister stated a very true fact about humans. He said “trust can take years to build what suspicion can destroy in an instant”. Perhaps we do not trust enough. Perhaps we are too suspicious. Why can we not accept that we are going to cock up now and then but remain trusting and in a loving relationship. It is suspicion that prevents true forgiveness. Suspicion of motives, suspicion of a lack of respect, suspicion of repentance, suspicion of true sorrow. We hear the expression ‘benefit of the doubt’ and yet we do not know what it means as we rarely give it. WE ALL FALL SHORT. I personally fall so short that I spend my whole life inwardly cringing at things I have said or done when not in the spirit. You see I have the desire but am constantly striving against temptation and my physical stubborness.

So how can we be Christians when we continue to sin all the time in the knowledge that Jesus was totally and uniquely sinless?

We profess our Christianity as a statement of fact because we believe that Jesus, the man on earth, son of God in heaven, died for our sins on the cross two thousand years ago because God so loved the world he gave His only begotten son so we might have the opportunity for eternal life, the kind of life that every single one of us would want if given the choice free from the shackles of sin. To understand what I mean perhaps just think of what we call the seven deadly sins and think if you have ever transgressed. Now imagine a situation where you had a different mindset and all those attractive sins such as lust and greed were banished from your mind because there would be nothing to be greedy for or lust after as you would be consumed by love – Is it now possible for you to imagine how a community might exist with a hierarchy and infrastructure better than the present one and how this ideal is carved indelibly into the soul of every true Christian – and no we are not Stepford beings we have freewill and character too. You see we want to be there to see this spectacle, we want to serve our Father as He serves us. We have passion and desire, we remain undaunted when things go wrong for us, we cock up but try and rebuild where possible and where not possible then we pray for God’s grace. We don’t need to see miracles (although all of us probably wish we could witness a supernatural event merely to satisfy our desire to shove it up all those smug atheists) because we understand the importance of faith, that intangible trust and hope that all non-believers would have you believe makes us fools and yet without faith God cannot know you or have faith in you as what have you shown Him? What have I shown Him? My desire is not enough - I am mindful of my old school motto Facta Non Verba (deeds not words).

I pray that Andy and Mark will by the grace of God find a place in Heaven. Two great men on Earth, one no longer with us the other in the twilight of his time (we all still hope for a miracle but thy will be done).

Life is cyclical but not for me!

March came in like a lion and went out like a lamb for me.

Professionally, I managed to all but finish a very thorough update of my A to Z of Everything for an October publication and am now eagerly awaiting the General Election results to complete the task.

Socially, I was flying around on my bike and with two solid months of cycling behind me I was beginning to leave my fellow Crawley Wheelers in my wake up the hills – the ability to climb hills bizarrely being the benchmark for respect within any cycling club. I say bizarrely because we only have one hill climb race per year so the ability to beat another rider to the top of a hill is far less important than the ability to hug a wheel or turn a huge gear or win the sprint to a post!
I had intended to ride to France last weekend with several of my team-mates but disaster struck mid- March. In an effort to ensure I would not struggle on the French ride to Boulogne-sur-Mer I rode a 100-mile training ride – my first ever!

After completing the ride quite comfortably I retired to bed only to wake up shivering an hour later. The shivering turned to fever and a feeling of dehydration and on rising I realised I had a very painful swelling in my nether regions. To cut a long story short I had managed to pick up some sort of infection and although various antibiotics prevented anything too nasty occurring I have been left with a rather painful calloused lump that simply will not disburse so is going to have to be removed surgically. So after managing to negotiate the cold winter months relatively painlessly (I did come a cropper on the ice in February) I am now off the bike as we approach the spring and summer months.

In mid-April a friend from Purley died and I was asked to arrange the funeral and put his house in order so to speak. This was obviously very sad but gave me an opportunity not to wallow in my own misery by being focused on making the arrangements for the send-off of a much-loved man.

Unfortunately, I broke the basic rules of lifting whilst doing a spot of house clearing and managed to tweak something in my lower back. So after not being able to sit down at my desk for the past six weeks due to my lump I now cannot sit down at my desk due to back strain! Happy Days!

Strangely, it has not been such a bad month. I have managed to get through more work than usual, answer all my backlog of mail and I have even caught up on some much-needed Bible study. I also took time out last Sunday to watch my friend, Ritchie Venner, annihilate the field to win the Southern Vets table tennis championship. Bolstered by a narrow defeat to British No 1 Paul Drinkhall, Ritchie was in inspired form and only dropped a couple of games in the whole tournament, and such was his superb form the other bamboozled finalist actually conceded before the end of the match!

I also found time to watch a recording of the World Junior ten-dance championships in Moscow. A cycling chum, Andy Duffin, had recorded the event as his two sons were competing and it was great to see young talent flourishing in a competitive but sporting environment. Young William Duffin and his partner Amy look like stars of the future and placed a highly-commendable 32nd out of 64 finalists.

My friend Bev invited me to a quiz at Nutfield Priory, nr Redhill and my winning prize was a couple of vouchers for a free back massage – perfect timing given my current position!

My only disappointment is that I had also hoped to walk in the footsteps of my hero, Jesus, whilst off the bike but the planned trip to Jerusalem in May coincides with the General Election stats and proofreading duties so will have to be placed on hold.

It is nice sometimes to step back and smell the roses as they say. I have tended to get into the habit of working all God’s hours and when not at my desk I’d be planning my training routines on my turbo or I’d be out trying to knock off a few seconds off my time up Box Hill. With the enforced rest I was now finding time for the theatre, films, a couple of quizzes, some television and I even sussed out a new church. The funny thing is after a few weeks the perspective comes back into your life and you realise that life goes on without cycling and it is good.

We humans are creatures of habit and when these habits are altered we become stressed and anxious until we step back and realise that our habits are actually a negative thing in many ways.

My friend who died was a great collector. Malcolm had huge collections of stamps, cigarette cards, books, cigar labels, scissors!, watches, and money...........yes money, not foreign money or rare coins but sterling coins. Eccentric perhaps but the product of an orderly mind or at least that is the perception. I am in awe of these collections but realise that these obsessions are the same ones as I used to suffer from. I also used to be a collector – of cigarette cards, coins, books, magic tricks, comics, classical vinyl records, playing cards, and the most bizarre one of all writing implements! Everything from quill pens to coloured chalk – what was that all about?

These things are all just habits – safe havens for us to escape into when feeling insecure or not in sync with the rest of the universe. The lesson I learnt and am relearning now is that none of us are islands. Things that seem important to us have little impact on the cosmos generally. What is important is that we have a perspective on life and how we use our waking hours.

Yes on the whole it has been a great past couple of months

Battle of Hustings!

As a result of Laura Moffatt standing down as our local MP we had the Comedy Club Roadshow, better known as Crawley CLP Hustings, last night at the Civic Hall.

A week ago I had planned to vote for my friend Chris Oxlade, as I knew we didn’t really have any other local members who could gain populace votes in the constituency. I did have reservations as I knew he wasn’t really very well versed politically but the local Labour Party mafia were extolling his virtues so I felt they must be ready to groom him.
However, as these things sometimes happen, I subsequently received an email from one of the two National Executives’ choice of candidate, Sonia Sodha. This young lady was obviously going places. She ticked all the boxes as a model candidate for Crawley: young, highly-intelligent, motivated, articulate, passionate, friendly but determined and as luck would have it she had two Asian parents.

Now this last ‘quality’ might seem irrelevant but the truth is at every other meeting I have attended the past few years the subject of the “apathy of our 15 per cent Asian community” has been raised. “If only we could second someone they could identify with so that they might feel that they have a voice” is a phrase I have heard on numerous occasions – and so naturally I was very excited to find when I actually did my homework on Sonia she surpassed all my expectations.
I sat through a two-hour video of her giving evidence to a Westminster select committee on a subject close to my heart – Education. I was interested in this as I happen to have been seconded onto a Croydon Schools steering committee for the new Government Diploma initiative which begins in the autumn term 2010.
I phoned Sonia to question her on this and other aspects of education as well as find out what she knew about Crawley itself as she lived some 15 miles outside the borough.
Again Sonia did not disappoint. She was well aware of all the local issues regarding our lack of full hospital services, unemployment, airport expansion, Asian apathy, and she even knew all about the disreputable opposition candidate Henry Smith and his lack of pothole funding! (if only he would contribute some of his unnecessary expenses of the past year he might at least retarmac the High Street outside the Town Hall – it is a disgrace!).

I realise I am known more for my ability to answer quiz questions and to solve lateral thinking problems but I believe my real talent is my ability to assess the merits of people. Not all types of people and not on all occasions but just sometimes I can spot a good one. It is not a psychic thing, not a gut feeling as such (although this is often as I describe it) it is simply a series of subtle judgements I am able to make given the person’s body language, manner, background, speech and general mien. Another words I muster the same skills as I use on Mensa tests or any of those quizzes I used to take part in a few years ago.
Anyway, I saw the flashing green lights with Sonia and knew I had to do something.
I wrote to Colin Moffatt, a respected local member, to air my views. I phoned Ian Weller, Chris Redmayne, Chris Mullins, the local party office and anyone else who would listen. I could hardly come out and say I KNOW we have a potential Prime Minister in our midst so I tried to be a little more subtle and ask for their opinions whilst managing to offer my own view. I did not hear back from Colin and after the disgraceful behaviour last night I now know why. Mr Weller also had already made his mind up but the two Chris’s were willing to be swayed at the Hustings (thank God I thought).

We had five candidates all speaking for 10 minutes, the first four were all good although Sonia was quite remarkable and not only gave a rousing speech but also handled the ten-minute question session impeccably. I watched the near 140 audience members nod with her and clap her as she went along. I listened to the loudest cheer of the evening both when she finished her speech and her Q & A session. I punched the air as she strode off the stage………..Surely every single person in that hall could see what I saw?

The last candidate was Chris Oxlade and his ten-minutes were different from the other four inasmuch as he spent a lot of the time reiterating what we already knew about him from his CV. The question-session that followed was an unmitigated disaster and time after time Chris was unable to offer any personal opinion whatsoever and seemed not to understand the purpose of the evening. It was embarrassing at the time and I felt for him very much. He is an absolutely lovely lad and I broke convention last June by speaking on his behalf before voting took place to elevate him to the council representing my own area of Bewbush. This was a no-brainer for me as the man is a legend locally, has his own show on Radio Mercury on Saturday mornings and the popularity coupled with a media outlet is EXACTLY what you want locally. Unfortunately this does translate into candidacy for prospective MP!! Debating skills are necessary, ability to think on your feet without pondering and above all an awareness of the bigger picture. I knew Chris did not possess these qualities in abundance although a week earlier I was prepared to give him my vote as I felt his other qualities might make his position tenable.
Chris’s performance last night made it impossible to vote for him and the woman supporter (who I shall not name out of respect for a very high-profile member of the party) who spent the whole of Chris’ speech whooping and hollering through every faux pas and clapping and cheering every errant word in a vain attempt to hoodwink the audience into believing this was the Messiah we were listening to, should be ashamed of herself and the disgrace she brought on her family. This woman even shouted down a lady questioner at one point when she tried to ask if Chris felt he was up for the job. Fortunately for Chris this wasted some time but the real killer blow came within the last 90 seconds when the final questioner asked “what is your view on Casino Capitalism?” I was feeling so sorry for my friend by now that I was somewhat relieved when the vague expression and sweated brow was now replaced by a wry grin. “What is my view on Casino Capitalism?. Where shall I start” Chris was then given the one minute reminder and it became clear that this was either going to be a killer reply or something was very wrong. I had worked out by now that Chris didn’t have a clue what the term meant but couldn’t understand why he didn’t ask Roy to explain the term. It would be no disgrace and it is a fair bet that he wouldn’t be the only candidate that didn’t understand the term. But alas no, Chris preferred to remain silent and never uttered another word until the timekeeper called time. Chris was given sympathetic applause and I shall not repeat what some of my fellow members commented on his performance but suffice to say the neutrals were blissfully unaware that the hustings meant nothing.

The count came back and Chris beat Sonia by one vote!

Well done the Crawley Labour Party – I have never felt so ashamed since I hosted the British Quiz championships ten years ago and had to announce a skewed result because someone had added an unedited and unseen final round which probably cost Kev Ashman the title, although the winner was indeed a very worthy champion.
Chris Oxlade is also a worthy champion. The party says so! It is just a plain and simple fact that the best person for the job did not win. Of course I shall back Chris, and indeed have spent the Easter weekend delivering leaflets around town on his behalf, but I shall always know at the back of my mind that we could have done something great for our town but failed miserably!

Whatever Sonia does next I know we all support her in Crawley. We all wish her the best and I for one hope and pray another vacancy comes up in the future before she is snapped up by another constituency.

It's a sad sad situation

I received two sad letters this week.

The first was from my local MP Laura Moffatt informing me she was standing down and not fighting the next General Election.

I admit I shed a tear.

We have been friends for the past ten years and in that time I have seen her in action on numerous occasions. Selfless, passionate, honest, loyal, trustworthy, hard-working, dynamic and warm-hearted are just a few adjectives that trip off my pen with ease.
Laura was a politician that always went that little bit further than most others. On Tuesdays and Wednesdays she would often arrive home after midnight and her weekends were more often than not a mixture of surgeries and charity work. Despite our Tory-biased local press often misrepresenting her most people knew that the local hospital where she nursed for two decades would not still be open if it were not for her efforts.
We were very confident Laura would retain her seat despite having the smallest majority of all MPs at the last election – now we shall never know!
I feel a little light has gone out in my world and I wonder if we shall ever see the likes of Laura Jean Moffatt again – she was, and remains of course, a true one-off.

The second letter I received (or rather an email) was from an old pal, Tim Selby, who has just had a very serious cycling accident and is now paralysed from the waist down.
The accident was not caused by a pothole or during difficult driving conditions but by a combination of a cross wind and an intimidatory passing lorry causing him to take evasive action onto the grass and back onto the road in front of a different lorry!
As a cyclist myself I feel a mixture of anger and sadness. I have had similar incidents myself and only by the grace of God am I alive to write this blog.
We are told to ‘THINK BIKE’ but in this country most motorists think only PEST and rarely do I complete a ride without some near miss or heart-stopping moment. The Government continually tell us to use our bikes but do parents really want their children to risk their lives on our roads with all the uneducated motorists about.
Even with the roads in the state of repair that they are in we are constantly tooted and screamed at if we are more than a foot from the Kerb! Don’t these people know that we are much happier near the kerb but it is not always possible to ride there because of badly-damaged roads, ill-fitting drain or protruding man-holes.
It is a very British problem at the moment as anyone who has ever ridden on the Continent will tell you. In many countries of Europe it is normal to ride two abreast never having to worry about traffic as motorists will pass when they are able and are happy to sit behind a group of cyclists until an opportune time to overtake. In England the mentality is very different – it is frustration and scorn – and we feel it – and yes we are intimidated – scared if you like.
I had a guy overtake me last week near my home and he actually cut me up so badly his offside wheels went up the kerb and I was forced to jump up onto the kerb to avoid his wheels! The guy pulled into the local shops 100 yards ahead and I followed him into the car park to enquire what it was all about. He got out of his van and started swearing away that it was a 20mph speed limit (I had just completed a training ride and was poodling down my street at a little above walking pace!). I told him I had a groin strain and that having to ride up the kerb was not aiding the healing process. More swear words followed to the effect that he couldn’t care less and I was left standing there with hands on hips flabbergasted. He walked away and then turned around and said “I suppose you are going to report me now” to which I assured him I had no intention of doing. My only thought was to try and understand the thought process but it became clear that there was no thought process, no motive, no reason, just a very bad tempered bloke who for that moment in time decided to scare me witless.

But you see that is all it takes.

Tim was a social rider and one of the most talented snooker players I have ever seen. At the moment all he can think of is his wife and four children and although he does have some hope for regaining partial feeling he will never walk unaided and yet no one feels responsible. It was just an accident! In his heart of hearts I wonder if the lorry driver that caused the initial wobble (didn’t stop and was never found) has any regrets.
It is no fun driving on our roads but I have had several friends from my local cycling club, Crawley Wheelers, killed and maimed in the ten years I have ridden with them.
I know the risks but at the moment I am feeling that if I survive white-van-man then the state of the roads will probably do for me!

I’ll pray for Tim’s recovery but I’ll also pray for the hearts of man to change

Stick to the Numbers game Carol....please

Let me set my stall out from the start – I am NOT a political animal although I do support my local MP (this I would do irrespective of what party she represents as I just happen to believe that she has done a magnificent job in my home town of Crawley).
Watching Question Time is about as far as I am prepared to go in keeping abreast of party politics and very often it is only the views of the audience rather than the panel that I ever truly respect (with some notable exceptions). This was never more apparent than in last week’s show where panellists included former Countdown presenter Carol Vorderman and journalist and self-styled flâneur Will Self.
I really do hate being negative, or cruel, or in fact saying anything at all when it is not positive BUT it is difficult not to comment on the BBC’s judgement in inviting another television presenter on to a political show when they are clearly way out of their depth. Having the overtly erudite Will Self seated on your right must be very intimidating but Carol was lulled into a sense of false security by having the affable and more subtly gifted Boris Johnson seated to her left (I am in fact a huge Boris fan as he tends to be that all too rare commodity HONEST). What followed in the course of the hour was so cringe-making it made Carol’s Strictly appearance only the second worst career move she has ever made. From the moment her glasses were donned one could feel this was going to be an intellectual car crash.
Carol is of Conservative persuasion. She is Blue through and through. She is also blind to the arguments of any other political party in the same way as some religious zealots are blinded by their own truths to the detriment of other perfectly rational truths. Unfortunately when someone says black and you scream back WHITE it does not instil great confidence in what that person has to offer as a viable solution to any problem.
Carol appeared to have spent the evening learning her diatribe against anyone or anything non-Tory. She was not going to be swayed by reasoned argument and clearly was unable to get involved in a serious verbal joust with the highly-skilled but, fortunate for her, benevolent Self (on this occasion – maybe he is a Countdown fan!) but what she didn’t realise was her haranguer style had reduced the Mayor of London to a seemingly embarrassed state of catatonia.
Of course Carol is a member of Mensa and has a high IQ, which probably gives me as much right as anyone to question the wisdom of this booking as I too am a member of Mensa, but contrary to public perception all this means is that we have the ability to solve meaningless puzzles (or as one of my dear friends puts it – the ability to place square pegs in round holes), it does not give us the ability to mix it in the political world with professionals.
My honest advice for Carol would be to gain far more experience (as Will Self has done) on more downmarket panel shows such as those presented by other professional television intellectuals like Stephen Fry and Ian Hyslop. I would love to change the world but if I were asked to appear on Question Time the answer would be a resounding NO – it is a tough gig with a very informed and partly invited audience most of whom have an interest in politics and almost all of which would have more heartfelt and sincere views than myself. When will the BBC learn to check out their invited celebrities for suitability and IMPARTIALITY!

Promotion of A to Z of Britain and Ireland

With the recent publication of my A to Z of Britain and Ireland I have been busy doing some promotional work. I had a local signing at Waterstones in Crawley the Saturday before Christmas and this went quite well. Julian Clary signed in the store two days earlier and I was pleased that I managed to outsell him, particularly as my local rag quite understandably concentrated on advertising his event rather than mine. Mind you I do know my place. While Julian was afforded the privacy of a sheltered signing area so those who want to see the great man are obliged to buy a book, I, as always, was stuck in the centre of the store feeling like a museum exhibit for much of the two hours I signed! A huge thank you to Chris Oxlade at Radio Mercury FM for plugging the signing on his Saturday morning show and to friends, Pete Ediss, Ruth Benjamin, Justyna Greba, and Steve and Mandy Lloyd who came along to support me and purchase books (in Pete's case four books).

Although I quite enjoy radio plugs, and am always so grateful for this exposure, I am never happier than when addressing a captive audience so it was an absolute delight to revisit a school I first visited last year; Archbishop Tenison, in Croydon, south London.
Initially I was taken to the staff room for a much-needed cup of tea and then was treated to lunch by the IT teacher, Miss Benjamin, whose class I was to visit. After lunch I was introduced to 6th former Richard Jenkins, a budding Mastermind with the specialist subject of Quantum Physics. I suggested perhaps he narrowed this subject down to a particular area or, better still, one of the early pioneers.
The young adults of maybe 14 or 15 years of age then began to trickle in and I overheard Miss Benjamin referring to Cameron, Rebecca, Jessica and Abigail which gave me the opportunity to begin my talk by informing these children what the derivation of their names were. Cameron is something of a computer genius so I suggested perhaps his parents named him after a Gaelic translation of the word ‘Awesome’ (what I didn’t mention was that a more accurate translation from Scots Gaelic is ‘Crooked Nose’). I informed Rebecca that her name originally meant ‘one that brought peace’ but the sniggers from her classmates made this of doubtful authentication. Jessica seemed quite proud that her name meant ‘God beholds’ and Abigail was equally happy to know that her name meant ‘father rejoices’. The biggest laugh was after I rather immodestly told the children that they could check all these names out on page 556 of the latest edition of the A to Z of Everything - including my own which means Big....Head (actually this was my only misinformation as my name actually means ‘big village’).
I then spoke of how computer advances had helped me in reducing the time it takes me to compile one of my books although I did add the caveat that you cannot necessarily believe everything you read on Wikipedia. I retold a story I had heard at church the day before as told by Bishop Kieran Conry of Arundel and Brighton. The good bishop had been researching the possibility of John the Baptist’s head being preserved 2,000 years on. Internet sources cite possible locations as the Hagia Sophia in Istanbul, Sebaste in Samaria, Herod’s palace in Jerusalem, Emesa in Phoenicia, Basilica of St. John Lateran in Rome, and several other sites including one at Wakefield in Yorkshire! I suggested that when the daughter of Herodias demanded from King Herod “bring me the head of John the Baptist” perhaps Herod should have replied – “which one!”
It was then time for a magic show. The theme was logical thinking and the children had to try and work out how I could get them to shuffle a pack of cards – pick ten cards from the pack, shuffle them anyhow they wanted and then choose one to show the class before replacing the card in the pack and then reshuffling before handing the cards back to me to make my prediction. Cameron was the first to play and I began by telling him that I had made a prediction that morning before setting out and I had placed a piece of paper under the orthotic of my right shoe. I produced the piece of paper and moments after informing me his card was the Ace of Spades I showed him that this indeed coincided with my prediction. Isaac was the next to choose a card. I immediately told him before he even returned the pack to me that his card was the Six of Hearts. It was fantastic to see and hear the shock and as an afterthought Isaac asked me why I didn’t make the prediction earlier as I had done with Cameron. I then suggested he pull a piece of paper out of my back pocket and when the Six of Hearts was produced the joy on the children’s faces was something to behold. Several more children tried their luck, the funniest being young Adeyna who shuffled the pack every which way she could and then changed her mind about her original choice and decided to select another card. Without touching the pack I told her that my prediction was made earlier and that if she looks in my coat pocket she would find a solitary piece of paper with her card written on it. When she opened the paper Adeyna freaked out and threw it away in horror. For the record no one managed to win the teacher’s huge cash prize (she had more faith than I had) for anyone who solved the trick although I did like one pupil’s suggestion there were hidden cameras (which given the computer technology of this room was very feasible, but untrue). I also liked the suggestion that I had 52 pieces of paper secreted in 52 orifices on my person! This was of course evidently partly true but did not explain how the trick was done with a standard deck of cards with no markings. Before I left I did inform Miss Benjamin of my methods but whether she ever tells the children is down to her – she will be badgered though : )
We then had a computer-related quiz. Fortunately for me I was not asked to take part this time as I had done to such unspectacular effect on my previous visit (I placed last) so the teacher asked me to write ten questions whilst she supplied the other ten. Just as well I was not subjected to ritual humiliation once again as I feel sure I would not have even guessed one of Miss Benjamin’s jolly difficult questions even though I had a six to one chance of success. Again the RMTUTOR equipment was used, whereby all the machines display the same screen when activated by a software package called Active Expression. The handpieces act as advanced buzzer systems. We could not only see all the answer options but also who answered quickest, who hadn’t answered, who answered wrongly, exact times and ongoing scores. And all the information was displayed on an interactive whiteboard. The children showed remarkable knowledge to questions such as ‘What year was the word "computer" first used to describe a mechanical calculating device?’ and ‘What computer device did Douglas Engelbart invent in 1963?’(answers 1897 and Mouse – I think). After a three-way tie at the top between Ryan, Adeyna and Cameron – The awesome crooked nose won by dint of having the fastest finger and chose the A to Z of almost Everything as his prize.
The last 20 minutes was given over to an exercise in designing a home page banner for my website using Adobe Flash (this was a detergent that cut cleaning time in half when I was at school!). I was to choose a winner from the class of 17 and this was an almost impossible task as each and every person showed remarkable flair and ability. I particularly liked Jessica’s method of tagging all three of my books on the banner with the first two books fading into the background whilst the latest Britain book rose like a phoenix from the ashes through the centre. I also admired Abigail’s innovation of having the 26 letters of the alphabet revolving around the bottom of the banner by way of acknowledging my epithet as the A to Z man. Others mentioned in despatches included Oliver’s use of each book gaining prominence in rotation with the publicity blurb making up the background. The winner though was Jack’s clever sales pitch along the lines of “Perhaps you are interested in sport (with a shot of the sports book now in the foreground), perhaps Britain (with the latest book taking pride of place) or maybe just everything (with my best-selling book now superseding the Britain book). Quite simple, but very effective. Rebecca, had been working on some other cool effects and Miss Benjamin has subsequently charged her with a complete redesign of my site, including the winning banner.
We had a splendid few hours and, despite my reluctance to divulge the trade secret of how my trick was performed, we parted as friends. For my part, in this sometimes cruel and cynical world, I was filled with fresh hope that perhaps the future of our planet is in safe hands.