How DARE you!

Bakground:
Last week, Month, year (depends when you’ve landed here )

… ok, on October the 5th 2016 some guy shouted out to Chvurches lead singer Lauren Mayberry at a gig, - ”Marry me!” which very much offended Lauren and even more so the countless women posting in the comments section. The site on which I read this chose an exclamation mark and not a question mark to 'marry me' which in itself I found to be rather curious … the full (or full story as Upworthy wanted to report it) can be found here: http://www.upworthy.com/a-man-in-the-crowd-yelled-marry-me-her-response-was-not-exactly-what-he-hoped-for

What did I do next?

I read through the piece via a Facebook page, and of course I started to read the comments (silly me) but worse than that I even made a post myself. (You FOOL!!) Now, if I can help it I won’t post anything on Facebook at strangers where my opinions will disagree with someone elses (so that should mean never right?) but on this occassion I couldn’t help but quip at all the women who thought this mans shout out was everything from ill-placed/ill –timed to just typical of the kind of shite that women have had to put up with down the years.

I haven’t had to suffer their shite-plight but I’m all for respecting thevalues and equality between the sexes to the best of my abilities.... Yes, to the best of my abilities.
For me, a woman is a woman, not a hen (as they say in Sweden, a cross between a Han (he) and a Hon (she). I get that woman don’t want to be discriminated against, nor do I, but it’s happened to me aswell - as I live in a country not of my birth. That’s it, I’m a foreigner....
No, not the same, but that's not my point.

In my world (even if it’s not everyones world) a woman should be afforded the same rights, wages, perks, crap, cynicism … well Life I guess, as men, and Vice Versa. In my world it is that simple.
It obviously isn’t that simple in a lot of other people’s worlds, but I can certainly do my bit by making sure that I do as ”right” as I can.

The Quip!

Sooo back to the story above. My Quip-
While I was reading a lot of rather acidic posts aimed at this man who in my mind I chose to depict as an overly happy individual high on the gig and wanting to express his love for the artist with a whimsical rib-tickler that would show the artist that he really, really, Really thinks a lot of her.
”Someone wrote, yes, but if you combine that shout with rapists and …. ” and here I started thinking
”Whoooa hang on there, Why would you, why not combine it with a good gigg and a guy who was extremely happy?”
Coz as my quip ”Middle-aged women have been throwing their underwear at poor Tom for years and I’ve never once heard a woman bemoan that fact. Quite frankly I’m offended …. Or am !?” was designed to point out, the deliverer is the only one who can know the implication implied by the shout.

Why is everyone getting so offended (Steve Hughes has a lovely take in being offended
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ceS_jkKjIgo some legit-points there I think, just me, my thinks.

Ok … are you back …. Well after all of this, a rather odd thought hit me …
I went to Italy in November … on a mission of sorts.
I wrote a blog about it and it got a bit of attention from my friends.
IF you do go there, please read the whole story. I have changed just one thing.
I have added a line at the very bottom.

http://cupazo614.blogspot.se/2016/11/cycling-what-have-you-done-for-me-lately.html

/Ciao

Cycling! What have you done for me?

Louie, Louigi, Louigini?

Through the years cycling has meant many things.
Some obvious;
Good physical health, social network, competing against others  …
Some not so obvious;
Good health insurance, travel, competing with myself, spiritual well-being.

The change has been gradual, relentless, never stopping, just like time, ticking on.
Not so long ago I was beating the hell out of my legs in order to get in good shape for … hang on, NOT so long ago?? It was 27 years ago …. And 27 years later, no more 30 ciggs-a-day, 5 kids, one battle with Cancer and thousands of rides … I find myself looking back at all the memories cycling has given me during this time ... … and so … to one such memory.

26th April 2013. Ride of Hope Italy was on it’s 4th day of cycling in Tuscany from Via Reggio to Poretta Terme. http://www.funbeat.se/tracks/shownonav.aspx?RouteID=2806665
The 4th day was my favourite the year before, beautiful climbs and sweeping decents to the finish.

We headed North-East out of town and followed the road inland. After 20kms we were to leave the road and head due North into the hills and the tiny village of Fanio. A wonderful climb with small serpentine turns in heavily wooded hills, Just this day the year before was another remarkable story but that's not for this post.
San Martino in Freddana was the name on the sign that marked this splatter of houses we were to cycle past. Nothing of note to see other than a rather pretty church … and there, in the field … I happened to notice and elderly man, rake in hand, gathering freshly cut grass.
His celeste-green Piaggio sported an array of different gardening tools and this gentleman was oblivious to the fact that I had stopped, gotten off my bike and was striding down towards him:
”Parli Inglese?” I blurted out all happy.
The non-plussed faced looked up and shook his head.
”Ok?” I asked, pointing at my mobile phone and miming taking a photo.
One head nod and a smile later and I was back on my bike chasing down the group ahead.

When I got back to the hotel (damn what an evening that was) the picture, with a bit of cutting and editing was on Instagram and receiving likes. Quite honestly I was surprised myself by just how much I liked it … and looking through my Instagram account I noticed that some of the pictures were actually quite good.
Most of them cycling related, but not all obviously about cycling. Places I’ve been to whilst out on the rides.

No sooner home than I started to get them printed onto canvas and put around the house.
Each one with a story of its own. Like this one, taken on the east coast, before Nove Colli 2011 when I crashed hard in the hills up to the right "Panaramavägen" anyone?

Misano Adriatico . Panaramavägen out to the right in the distance on the road to Fano.

Each picture brought to me by my bike (well, all but one).  The man in the picture I took at the top I refer to as Louigi. Louigi hangs in my kitchen next to a picture of Tower Bridge (taken on another cycling trip in London). 

Tower Bridge and HMS Belfast

Every day I see that mans face and I can’t help but smile. Every line holds a story I'm sure.

I made myself a promise that if I was ever out that way cycling again I must find out where he lives and get a copy to him. In October 2014 I stopped at the village and asked around. A neighbour gave me his name and address. Now I could refer to him as Louie J
Unfortunately I’ve not been able to get out that way on the bike since then, and it was starting to bother me.  So in my best spontaneous manner I thought ”F*** it!” I booked myself a flight and a hotel in Pisa. Arriving late I hit the sack and slept hard on an unfamiliar bed in a room with a ceiling so high that Sergei Bubka would have been hardpressed to vault it.

The following morning I took one bus: Well it took me … the driver finding the speed-ramps more of a challenge to accelerate rather than a warning to slow-down, and suspension is obviously something only reserved for horror movies, certainly not town busses. The train to Lucca (Pinnochios home town) was far more pleasant and less white-knuckeld and then finally a bus to San Martino in Freddana.

Once I got off the bus and walked through this familiar territory, canvas under arm, it suddenly struck me that I don’t actually know this man at all. Sure, I’ve seen his face just about every day for the last two years but I’ve only met (if you can call it met) him once. He certainly won’t know me, and will most certainly wonder what the hell I’m up to. ’What’s the scam?”

Well, finally I made it to the door, there’s room for a few more chapters between the bus and the door but I better keep this short.  A door-bell-ring and a few hearty knocks later and I was met by someone who was chubbier than I was expecting. The age was right and something in the eyes … but … surely no …. The conversation was rather Pythonish;
ME: Louigi?
HIM: something in Italien & Louigini
ME: Parli Inglese?
HIM: Some more Italien and pointing in the air (Here I show him a picture from my phone and he studies it carelfully)”Si … Louigini” some more Italien and he walks back in to the house leaving the door open.
I took this to mean I was welcome to enter but ... "LouiGINI?".
The kitchen I entered was dark, and dank. I was given a chair with a newspaper as a cushion to sit on and the man threw some logs into the iron oven and shut the heavy door with a resounding clang.
The wood started to crackle, pop and hiss as he slowly left to make his way upstairs.

After listening to two men shouting for a short while he came back down, and 20 (!?) minutes later small footsteps could be heard on creaking wooden floorboards, and finally, into the kitchen, shuffled Louigini.

Looking like a newly hatched eaglet his eyes wandering back and forth to his brother and me, I couldn’t quite see the man in the picture I had been looking at every day for 2 years. Extremely confused, I showed him the picture in my phone and pointed at him saying ”Si?”
He looked at me, the picture, his brother, me and back again and didn’t seem any less confused or bewildered than when he first entered the room.

Then I remembered the passport trick. "Check his ears" I thought to myself. After checking his ears (more confusment as his eyes darted to the side and straight ahead) I decided it was infact him, and then I proceeded to unwrap the brown-paper clad frame and present one extremely non-plussed Italien with the picture. His brother and he were no doubt dumbstruck by the whole event.
Louigini even asked how much he owed me! 

Me and Louigini, a few years older, a little bit worse for wear :)

Are you kidding? And in my worse Italien I said very slowly ”Un regalo, da me, a voi”
”A present, from me to you” To which he smiled and very softly said.
”Grazie mille" standing up he looked at the picture, looked at me and said "Grazie mille … Arrividerci … ” and waving a hand, went back upstairs, canvas under his arm to his TV
.
I smiled … I left the house, made my way in the pouring rain to the bus stop for the 45min wait and smiled some more, now I could put both hands in my pockets :) ... The next morning I drank coffee 100 meters from the Leaning Tower and wrote my postcards.

Morning coffee and sunshine

I spent a fantastic 36 hours doing something just for me, with no expectations, and no idea of where it would take me, The one thing I was sure of was, that what ever happens, it'll be a step into the unknown and it'll be worth it.
Mission accomplished.





Edit: Now read this again, and replace Louigini with Lauren Mayberry (exclamation mark)
Things that make you go hmmmm!

Breaking a collarbone ...

... or the things you never knew, thought of, or cared about, till you do it!

2 weeks ago, almost to the day I broke my collarbone in what I can only describe today as a "Freak cycling accident".
That is to say, the accident itself was freaky, I'm not denying my own personal freakyness in any way. I fear that fact was established mannnny moons ago!

Background!
So, sure, I was hit by a freakin' (see, I told you it was freak) Bambi who wanted to steal my bike. Sending me plummeting to mother earth it then had the gaul to kick me a couple of times just for good measure. NEVER kick a man when he's down, a cyclist sure, but not a man! (bastard)

So, what will you find out during this time and how can you prepare!

Pillows!
Yes pillows, those fluffy things you are accustomed to resting your head on at night, propping up that body on the sofa watching Game of Thrones, or something your pet dog shags in a moment of unbridled passion!
You will need pillows to prop you up in bed at night. Because for the first week to 10-days you will be on your back in bed (for medical reasons) and lifting your body up with the aid of your stomach muscles will be painful. Keep a book by the bed too, preferably on the side of the bed opposite to the break.
Tip: To get up from a lying down position: Hold against the breakpoint with the hand on the same side of the break, place your other hand behind your bent knee and rock yourself up into a sitting position! Et Voila!

Pillows, Flexible fellows with a variety of uses
.

Getting dressed!

You never fully appreciate the collarbone untill you try to put on your clothes. Whether its putting on socks, tying up your shoes or pulling up your trousers after a toilet visit? It's all a pain in the derrier.
If you don't have any shirts? You will need to stock up on a couple. You may have not realised, but there is a good reason why the doctors cut the shirt from your back after the accident.  T-shirts, jumpers and sweaters are out for the foreseeable future.
Hands up if you agree!

Shirt YES, t-shirt NO

Stretching!

Eddy Merkcxysksk (or however he spells his bloody name) apparently was cited as saying: "If I lost a race, it was because I didn't train right, not because I didn't stretch".
Now I'm sort of with Eddy on that, I know that stretch has its uses, it can feel great and never more so in the morning after waking up.
Well FORGET it!

Your daily-morning hands reaching high above your head as your body contorts in a re-inactment of a poisoned rat' stretch is out! Like out out. Not out the door out, like "out the door, in a taxi get me to the airport first flight to cape Canaveral and rocket to the moon" kinda out!
You're gonna have to learn to stretch posing like a body-builder flexing abs.
Because trust me, after just 2 days of lying still on your back you will want to stretch.
Arms down by your side and work that torso, you may even yawn here adding extra effect and as you feel your spine creak and groan with pleasure your mind will tell you, 'go on, put your arms up.' Let me just add. DON'T!
The mind is an evil bastard, don't give in to it.

The Toilet!

No need to be sensitive, we all do it (well apart from the Queen).
when emptying the Kings Chamber you will need to clean up after you. If you're right-handed and you've broken your right collarbone? No can do.
No matter whether you attack from the front or the back, it's just not do-able.
Tip: Just as with 'onani' train the other hand or get a friend to help you, you don't want to end up like this guy!

MAMA!!

Your sling!
You may find that wearing the sling freezes up your elbow and your shoulder. If it feels better not wearing it, then my advice is don't. IF however you need to go to the shops, catch a bus or a train then wear it and wear it well. Make it visible, none of this jacket like a cape over the shoulder nonsense.

You want others to see and take note that you have an injury, KEEP OUT OF MY WAY BITCH - As Jessie Pinkman may have said - See Breakin' Bad

Tip: Some won't get out of your way, so you will need to be light on your feet in a weird version of 'Dodgeball´. Get good at it, or get hit, and get hurt.

Beware! Some are less thoughtful than others!

And Finally!
Eating and training.
If like me you have been accustomed to doing a few rides a week and eating accordingly, don't cut back now. Your body will still require a certain amount of food whilst it's repairing itself. Don't be silly, feed it, and feed it well. Perhaps a little more protein and fat than normal and a little less carbs but do it. Compliment this with long walks. After a week you may be able to get to your local gym and sit on a spinning bike with the handlebars raised high. Just pedal air. Keep your arse used to it. When it's time, you don't want to return to the bike out of breath and 5 kilos heavier.
And whatever you do, don't return to the bike too early. Be smart. There is a pothole out there waiting to test your clavicula. Better to wait an extra week than balls it all up and go back to square 1.

My standard meal just now.
Swedish cheesecake, cottage cheese, cream, berries &5% yoghurt
.... oh and a cheese sandwich on rye