The more observant of my reader will have noticed that it’s been a bit warm in this neck of the woods over the last few days so Mrs Anorak and myself have sensibly hidden from the blazing heat by riding bicycles through miles of glorious Lancastrian countryside with hardly any shelter.

This was not some strange way of having fun. Oh no. This was serious stuff. This was training. Such as élite athletes might be expected to do. But a little slower.

We had a schedule that included the words ‘hill training’, ‘rest day’ and ‘event’. Unfortunately, due to an error at the planning stage ‘rest day’ seemed to have filled almost every day since the end of March and ‘event’ was today.

And so it happened that we received an email from the good people at Lancaster CC reminding us that we should arrive at the Ashton Memorial at around 7 o’clock in the morning to sign on for Le Terrier, a sportive which is not only 78 miles long but also features a promised “no junk miles”.

Mrs Anorak had some sense and opted for the shorter 44 mile route. Her rigidly-adhered-to training plan of rest days, avoiding all big hills and gardening had prepared her better for this “puppy” route than the full version which I lovingly refer to as “the bitch”.

So the morning dawned and we realised that we really did have to haul our backsides out of bed. Fortunately, it was neither pouring down with sun nor with rain although a fine mist (referred to, surely for reasons of space, on motorway matrix signs as “fog”) seemed to cover the county.

Arriving at Williamson Park to sign on, we had a good dither about how many apples, bananas and layers of clothing to carry before starting the ride with a lovely descent to a small dip about 100 yards away before the beginning of the climb to Jubilee Tower.

The map suggests that the aforementioned architectural prominence offers scenic views and is but a short ride from Lancaster.

Cartographers lie. Kilogrammes of carbon fibre overtook me as I struggled climbed manfully upwards, allowing Mrs Anorak to set a more leisurely pace.

Descending from Jubilee Tower I had the choice either to have a blurred, spectacleless view of the road ahead or a blurred, windscreen wiperless view of the same. I opted for the latter, reckoning that I could wipe them with my gloves. Not such a bad plan, if only my gloves hadn’t already been used to wipe my breathing apparatus.

Sportive rides are entirely non-competitive. For this reason, the majority of riders blasted past me without so much as a “hello” or a twitched finger on their way to the first checkpoint at Marshaw from whence the puppy was to climb over the Trough of Bowland and the bitch was to whizz round to Scorton, Oakenclough, Chipping and Whitewell. This stretch was actually fairly fast.

And then I saw it. The route sign at Whitewell pointed skywards. (Several riders didn’t see and, I guess, found themselves accidentally on the shorter route.)

The ascent to Cow Ark is so quick as to be almost forgettable when attempted in reverse, as Mr and Mrs Anorak had indeed done only on Friday. From today’s perspective things were a little different. I engaged my granny ring and pedaled at something rather less than a snail’s pace as more kilogrammes of carbon fibre shot past me. One was almost certainly disqualified for asking after my health.

Shortly afterwards (in lateral distance terms) the road dropped. I don’t know quite how fast I descended but I know my Garmin was reporting a speed of 36mph as I passed a pair of surprised walkers near the top on the other side.

And then, more but slower climbing. The Garmin told me I had already climbed 1400 metres in 35 miles. Almost half of the distance was complete and slightly less than half of the ascent.

I began to hate descending, feeling these downward slopes were robbing me of the altitude I had worked so hard to acquire and knowing that I’d only have to labour more to regain those missing metres.

Plans to complete the whole of the bitch, which includes a challenging climb of Roeburndale, had already been shelved. The climb to Bowland Knotts was the location of the first forced dismount as my legs chose to go on strike.

By this point a CTC member wearing a Manche à la Méditerranée jersey and I were leapfrogging each other and having a friendly chat. Possibly he was allowed to do this as he, like me, had mudguards. He was a stronger climber, I overtook him on each descent.

The last of the puppy-riders were at the main feed station in a fine spot at the top of Lythe Fell. They had been passed by the entire field, possibly because of their mudguards, possibly because they were on a mission to buy and eat cake wherever they possibly could en route. They had already failed to reach one check point on time because of their conscientious devotion to this mission. With only thirty minutes to go before the next checkpoint shut, I decided to get a move on. They decided to assist in consuming cake.

I had decided to avoid the Roeburndale part of the long route, believing that the return leg would be made somehow easy by this choice. All I can say is that Roeburndale must be one heck of a climb.

A pinging in my back pocket informed me that Mrs Anorak had arrived back at the Ashton Memorial, comfortably ahead of schedule. An arrow on my Garmin let me know that I was 5 miles behind my own schedule. I refused to let my lack of concern show.

Le Terrier is a great ride, with happy, friendly people at the feed stations and checkpoints. It’s just a shame that so few of its participants appeared willing to reciprocate. I hope to be back next year. Who knows, by then Mrs Anorak might be ready to tackle the long route.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:Gaythorne Ave,Preston,United Kingdom

I’ve just sent a letter to my esteemed local MP to encourage him to protect our photographs:

Today sees the second reading of the Digital Economy Bill. I have today become aware of the potentially very damaging consequences of clause 43 of thus bill which:

• removes the right of each individual creator and copyright owner to market their work to the clients they choose, for the uses they choose, at the price they have set
• In so doing it destroys any guarantee of exclusive use, and
• breaks the contractual ties between models, their agencies, property rights holders, photographers and clients, because
• images will be used in ways that rights holders would have forbidden, had they known beforehand
• says that images can be declared orphan after a “diligent search” for the owner without recognising the practical impossibility of such a search
• proposes that images should be licensed at “the market rate” while ignoring the impossibility of determining such a rate for any specific image
• proposes a scheme for managing orphan works that is not limited to orphan works

Perhaps more disturbingly clause 46 allows the Secretary of State to amend the Act by Statutory Instrument. This is a completely unnecessary step which could allow an unscrupulous future Secretary of State to make changes to the law without democratic accountability.

Please vote against this bill.

This, the 67 mile Cheshire Cat was my second sportive, last year’s medium Tour Ride around Stoke having been the first. The weather started off rather cool but warmed up by early afternoon to the point where arm warmers and gilet could happily be removed.

Mow Cop is quite a climb. I’ve had one previous attempt at it and got as far as the front door of the pub (bear in mind this comes after the best part of a mile of quite steep climbing) before finding I could no longer keep my front wheel on the ground.

Today I followed the sage advice of keeping as much energy as possible in reserve for the section by the pub. For me this meant using 30/25 almost all the way up and chatting to one of those who had chosen to walk as a convenient means of ensuring that I wasn’t working too hard.

Looking up, it became quite clear that there was a whopper of a wall to climb from the pub upwards. ‘Clear’ isn’t quite the right word. I realised that I was sweating so much from my temples that my glasses were unpleasantly damp so I needed to find some way of safely stowing them in a back pocket while still pedaling up the climb.

As the gradient went from painful to insane, I stood up on the bike in order to keep my weight forward, pedalled as fast as I possibly could (an entire 40rpm!) and uttered every single Anglo-Saxon word I could manage in order to pretend that my legs weren’t experiencing the most agonising pain that can be achieved without causing permanent damage. Smile for the camera….

Several turns of the pedals got me to a point at which the gradient eased off. Slightly. A couple of spectators urged me to dig deep (like I hadn’t already done that!) while I concentrated on the blessed relief that might come twenty yards very much up the road as the road turned left and levelled off.

I had forgotten that this left turn led to a fine Cheshire false flat of about 7%. Just enough time to stop swearing, to give myself a little cheer while pedaling past some of the defeated and to consider the final few meters of climb that come after the road turns right.

A woman who appeared to live at one of the houses near the top on the left was urging me up to the summit near which the gradient hit 14% again.

And then it was over. 15 minutes and 13 seconds for the 2km from level crossing to summit.

Later I was told that it had been “absolute carnage” up Mow Cop for those who had attempted it earlier in the day. I was fortunate to have had a clear run at the hill. Others hadn’t been so fortunate: most mortals can only attempt a climb such as that at their own pace. And if one’s own pace happens to be just a little faster than that of the rider in front then there will be issues. Lots of people had fallen off while trying to avoid those who had ground to a dead halt.

4 kilometres of delightful, sweeping descent followed which offered fine opportunities to feel smug and to spin the agony from the legs in preparation for the next climb (of a total of four) at Bridestones.

I have only two criticisms of the day: a bag drop at the start / finish line (Gresty Road) would have been appreciated and it would have been useful for someone to have made the magenta and black “Caution Ahead” signs slightly less subtle. I missed one, hurtled at 40 km/h across the A523 and realised that I’d been a little too busy looking at the level crossing on the far side of the junction.

It was a tremendous day. I shall certainly be back next year.

Achilles (for David Beckham) from today’s Daily Mirror

Myth’s river- where his mother dipped him, fished him, a slippery golden boyflowed on, his name on its lips. Without him, it was prophesised,
they would not take Troy.

Women hid him, concealed him in girls’ sarongs; days of sweetmeats, spices, silver songs…
but when Odysseus came,

with an athlete’s build, a sword and a shield, he followed him to the battlefield, the crowd’s roar,
and it was sport, not war,

his charmed foot on the ball…

but then his heel, his heel, his heel…

A few thoughts on the BBC’s strategic review:

‘Being efficient and offering better value for money’ is a very subjective principle.

In comparison with Sky TV, the BBC offers ‘only’ 7 or 8 full-time equivalent TV channels and a similar number of radio stations. However, if Sky TV disappeared overnight its place in British culture and society could be filled very swiftly.

The BBC at its best is beyond value.

It is of vital importance that the BBC’s offering is unique and distinctive. It should not seek to emulate commercial broadcasters unless it is to improve significantly upon their offerings.

I stopped listening to BBC Radio 1 during the daytime about eleven years ago as I found its output had become so mainstream that it could barely be distinguished from many local commercial stations.

A lot of BBC 1′s output is repetitive and formulaic (weekday mornings, in particular, are dreadful in this respect.)

BBC 3 has had its successes (such as Gavin & Stacey) yet, despite knowing many people within its target age group and being, myself, only just outside that group, I know of noone who habitually watches the channel.

The BBC has, within the UK, an unparalleled record of supporting the best in music, including classical, pop and rock.

BBC 6 Music embodies all that is best about the Corporation’s support for the more creative and risky end of contemporary music.

The BBC’s televised music coverage is less impressive. While ‘Later… with Jools Holland’ is a fine programme it appears also to be perhaps BBC TV’s only contemporary music programme.

The BBC’s sport coverage could at the moment be left almost entirely to commercial broadcasters. I enjoy sport but would prefer to see the BBC’s coverage devoted to sports with more of a minority interest.

The Director-General’s proposed editorial priorities are:

*
The best journalism in the world
*
Inspiring knowledge, music and culture
*
Ambitious UK drama and comedy
*
Outstanding children’s content
*
Events that bring communities and the nation together

The Trust thinks that the proposed editorial priorities fit well with those things you have told us are important to you in our previous research, but we want to consider how these priorities should be delivered to you in the future.
Do these priorities fit with your expectations of BBC TV, radio and online services?

Absolutely.

I would in particular point out that the priority of ‘inspiring knowledge, music and culture’ is fulfilled by two existing radio stations: Radio 3 and 6 Music. Both of these stations are exceptional and, just as Classic FM is no rival to Radio 3, there is no commercial rival to 6 Music.

Doing fewer things and doing them better

Much of Radio 1′s daytime output could, in my experience, be left to commercial broadcasters. The genius of BBC 6 Music lies in the knowledge of the vast majority of its presenters, their passion for the music they play, their independence from restrictive playlists and their engagement with a lively and intelligent audience.

BBC local radio could possibly be improved by sharing more output at certain times of day but care must be taken not to create another national network by stealth (rather as ITV now has barely any regional programming).

Guaranteeing access to BBC services

For DAB truly to be a success, a modern encoding system needs to be adopted, allowing for better sound quality within the same bandwidth. DAB+ could provide a solution which would also allow for better reception in cars.

It is reasonable to accept that more and more listening will take place over the internet and via digital TV services. Noticeably, however, BBC local radio is not currently available in this manner.

The BBC archive

The BBC has already had great success in selling CDs of Peel Sessions. I am quite sure that, rights permitting, there would be sufficient demand for a pay-as-you-view system to be sustainable.

If you are concerned about the BBC’s value for money, please tell us why.

The BBC is a bargain. Some of its output may well not be to my taste and some ought to be left to commercial broadcasters.

However, a fundamental principle of the Corporation ought to be that quality is more important than money. It would be rash to measure success in terms of audience share rather than to use the less tangible measure of depth of audience appreciation.

Setting new boundaries for the BBC

No national commercial broadcaster has come close to emulating BBC 6 Music. Although XFM broadcasts across much of the country on DAB, its programming is in fact such that it ignores much of the country and the music remains quite commercial. 6 Music has the freedom to play quite challenging music at all hours of the day.

6 Music has played a vital role in nurturing new bands and artists. It is the BBC’s freedom to take risks that has allowed this to take place.

Where the BBC buys in programming from abroad, it ought to ensure that it is buying the best and that it is given a regular slot in the schedule.

As I have mentioned before, the BBC ought not to be buying the rights to events which will be covered just as well by other broadcasters.

Money could be saved by reducing expenditure on some of the most commercially viable areas of the BBC. For example, does Simon Cowell’s latest protégé need any further promotion by the BBC?

The Press Association reports:

MPs should no longer be able to claim for their mortgages or employ family members at the taxpayers’ expense, the long-awaited report by the standards watchdog has said…

In future, MPs should only be able to claim for rent or hotel costs…

Now, correct me if I’m wrong but I cannot understand this. A search on RightMove for the cheapest three bedroom accommodation available in Battersea shows a flat for rent at £330 per week.

I’m assuming here that our MPs are frugal types and that they will choose to pair up to share a flat with one spare room so that they can each host a family member or two at the weekend.

The cheapest three bedroom accommodation currently for sale in SW11 that my short search discovered costs £219,950. At present, the taxpayer only funds the interest on an MP’s mortgage payment. Unless interest rates rise above 7.2%, we appear to be about to lose out significantly. (For reference, over the last eight years or so our household has paid less than 5.5% interest on the mortgage.) At present rates of interest (3.9% according to uSwitch.com) the taxpayer would currently be paying just £714.84 in interest on the above flat.

I assume also that there is probably a link between mortgage interest rates and rental costs.

Do we really want to be paying twice as much for our MPs accommodation?

"We've searched dozens of these floor tiles for several common types of pheromone trails. If there were intelligent life up there, we would have seen its messages by now." The world's first ant colony to achieve sentience calls off its search for us.

After a month or more of campaigning, the Fishwick by-election concluded yesterday in a rather substantial victory for Labour county councillor Jennifer Mein.

It would be dishonest of me not to own up to feeling rather deflated but I’ve learnt a lot, received a tremendous reception from others on the ward and feel I can deservedly view the whole experience as a fine springboard for May, when the seat once again comes up for election.

To be beaten by Labour’s leader on Lancashire County Council and by the woman who, up until last year, represented the ward for the Liberal Democrats is no disgrace.

But next time I shall have to remind my agent to wear his lucky yellow socks.

Tonight was a hustings meeting for Fishwick by-election candidates at JALGOS, a sports and social club in Preston city centre. Neither the Labour nor the Conservative candidate were able to attend.

The Conservative (who lives just down the road) claimed she didn’t receive the invitation until Monday (three or four days after the same postman delivered the same letter to me). She also had a prior engagement.

The Labour candidate claimed the chairman of the meeting (the independent councillor for the Town Centre ward) would not be independent and that she had a prior engagement.

Preston North End lost 5-1 to Spurs tonight.

JALGOS has spent 46 years quietly serving much of Preston’s Afro-Caribbean community (which is certainly not to say that it is a closed group). It is a club which has hosted the wedding receptions, christenings, wakes, 18th birthday parties and family reunions of hundreds of people.

The club offers a dining club for its elderly members and delivers meals to those who are housebound.

It regularly hosts visitors from across the country and, indeed, the Commonwealth including the Jamaican High Commissioner.

If this club were called a community centre no-one would dream of sending in the bulldozers. If this club had an altar, it would certainly be safe.

Yet it would appear that the plans to redevelop Preston’s city centre have now changed such that the building will need to be flattened in order to create a bus turning circle.

JALGOS is the beating heart of a significant proportion of Preston’s community. It must be saved. Join Preston’s Liberal Democrats in campaigning for this asset to the city to be saved.

I’ve just sent the following to BBC Complaints and have written to my local MP to encourage him to sign Richard Burden MP’s EDM. I would encourage my reader to join me.

I have been greatly impressed by the BBC’s impartiality over the years and applaud the Corporation’s continuing efforts to be impartial. However, I am horrified that the Corporation can consider the DEC’s Gaza appeal to have any partial political aims. People in that area, who have no means of leaving, are dying. This despicable decision of the BBC’s is perhaps the strongest argument in years for the abolition of a compulsory licence fee.
I am heartened that MPs are today acting by tabling the following EDM:

That this House is astonished by the refusal of the BBC and other broadcasters not to broadcast the Disasters Emergency Committee Gaza Crisis Appeal; notes the unconvincing and incoherent explanations given by BBC spokespeople for the decision; and draws attention to the fact that people wishing to contribute to the Gaza appeal can contact the DEC by calling 0370 60 60 900, writing to DEC Gaza Crisis, PO Box 999, London EC3A 3AA or visiting www.dec.org.uk.

I trust that the BBC will reconsider.
Yours sincerely, Luke Bosman

I love cycling. Some people may have noticed this. I love the freedom, the pain, (perhaps more particularly, the sensation when the pain stops at the top of a climb), the speed and the countryside. I love having to think about what I’m doing in traffic. I love the great feeling of being alive that comes from a good cycle ride. There are two kinds of people: those who love cycling and those who are wrong.

I don’t love plastic hats, yet a tedious number of people who risk their lives by eating too much for their sedentary lifestyles, by not exercising enough or by stressing about other people’s wellbeing, seem to think that I and other cyclists am stupid for wearing a stylish cycling cap (well, I think it’s stylish) to keep the sun out of my eyes (at the moment the sun seems to be wet and forming puddles), rather than a plastic hat to act as some form of talisman.

If you are one of those people, please read on.

Dr. Mark Porter in The Scotsman writes:

Boris Johnson was recently pilloried for cycling without a helmet, but what sort of impact has their introduction really made? How much safer is Boris now that he reluctantly coats his cranium in carbon-fibre?

It may seem counterintuitive, but the benefits are far from clearcut. On the positive side, there are numerous reported cases where helmets appear to have protected cyclists from serious head injuries that could have left them permanently disabled or dead. Yet, on the negative side, these cases appear to be the exception rather than the rule, and need to be weighed against the fact that the wind-in-the-hair sensation appears to be one of the attractions of cycling, and that forcing cyclists to wear protective headgear discourages them from using their bikes.

[...] The Bicycle Helmet Research Foundation estimates that the average cyclist would have to pedal the roads for more than 3,000 years to suffer a serious head injury, let alone one that would be mitigated by a cycle helmet. And children are four times more likely to suffer a head injury as a pedestrian than when they are on their bikes (so why don’t we make them wear helmets when they are walking along the pavement?)