What will Ely Beth be?

Apart, that is, from spherical. Just back from a trip to the Ely swimming pool (still intending, at some point, to do a blog on swimming pools). I begin to see why government health advice isn't "live off take-aways and junk food and do occasional exercise every week or so if you really feel like it". Durham Beth was, by turns, hockey, rowing, netball, running and swimming girl. Wellingborough Beth was hockey and swimming lady. Cambridge Beth was swimming and rowing woman (until the arrival of a certain small person anyway). So let's hope Ely Beth makes a habit of something, and has the chance to make a habit of something other than chocolate, whilst there's still a vestigal amount of fitness in a corner somewhere.

August culture vultures (3)

As the next weekend quickly approaches, a note about the last. Our cultural offering then was an outdoor performance of 'Measure for Measure' as part of the Cambridge Shakespeare Festival. When I booked the tickets I couldn't recall the plot, but that came back to me within minutes of the show. Having been to some pretty ropey outdoor productions in the past my expectations weren't high, but it was pleasantly quite good. And, more crucially perhaps, this being England in August, the weather actually held. The rest of the weekend, like much of the week preceding it, was dominated by cake. Some formed part of the theatre picnic, having adapted a friend's recipe for blackberry muffins. The rest provided at a rowing bunfight on the Sunday. You should note the similarly between W1 (women's first boat) and WI (the Women's Institute). It is generally held that we ought to enter/create a WI rowing league, where our cake-fuelled performance and our cakes might be equally judged. Defeat, then, by lean mean crews? We think not.

Speaking too soon...

A pleasant Friday evening pootle on the river, was made all the more pleasant by the realisation that Mr. Asbo the swan wasn't patrolling his patch, but was chiling on the bank whilst Mrs. Asbo herded her five little cyngets along. Buoyed by this, I reassured the cox the next morning that there would be no more trouble from said swan. What I hadn't taken into account was that on the Friday evening there were virtually no boats on the river, but by the time we approached his domain yesterday morning he had been riled by eights ploughing up and down for several hours. He was, in consequence, in fine wing-flapping, flying at and even landing on the boat style. I don't know what the swan male hormone is, but I think he has it in droves. Indeed, this morning his attack was more sustained, as we got nearer the young in question. Fair enough, really. Hopefully photos to follow.

Bank holiday fun: duty, dancing and a swan named Asbo

The boy elected to work Good Friday and Bank Holiday Monday this year, leaving me to twiddle my thumbs somewhat on those days. This led to the production of a 'traditional' Easter cheesecake on Good Friday. (Really it's a birthday cake but we won't be chez nous for the boy's birthday.)

Saturday involved a limited amount of rowing. Limited because the boat house door has been broken for some time now meaning certain boats can't be got out safely (grrrr). This did give me another opportunity to watch 'Mr Asbo' in action. The so-called 'Mr Asbo' is a male swan who has been terrorising rowers on the Cam for some weeks now. He's quite a spectacle, when viewed from a safe distance. It's cruel, but the stroke of my four has been known to do the theme tune to "Jaws" when moving through his self-proclaimed zone of the river just to freak the cox out that little bit more. The real exercise of the weekend was a walk. Doesn't sound hard, but when you cycle everywhere, walking suddenly becomes a bit of an issue. More so when you've booked to go to the Lake District for a week and your wife expects to be taken hiking. So the boy went for a bit of a drag on Saturday afternoon, and is booked for another one in a fortnight's time. (Hopefully we will both have recovered by then).

Easter celebrations at church were, in my view, cool; at least for the 'Presentation of the Gifts' section when Indian members of the congregation performed a West Syriac rite, involving lights and dancing. I thought it was just a touch Bollywood, but of course I got in trouble for saying so. The slight, ever so slight, Bollywood theme continued in the afternoon when I took the boy to see Slumdog Millionaire. My boss had told me it was sad because of the poverty and that was the overall message I took from the film, whatever the critics have said. The boy, who had been planned to endure the film, admitted to having enjoyed it.

Easter Monday saw my first sculling outing of 2009. I managed not to send my partner for a swim and, of course, stayed well clear of Mr. Asbo, so all was well on that front. The sculling season may commence.

Fancy dress season

In a couple of weekends it will be the Cambridge Christmas Head. In addition to the usual prizes, there is a prize for the best fancy dress. Obviously (especially as my crew don't exactly train) this is the prize we are most in contention for. So, forget what I said last time, we are apparently going to be snowmen. That might just be the case again this weekend anyway as the weather forecast is for more chill factor. My chillblains from last weekend are already complaining just at the thought of it.

Brrr, it's cold out there

Today I could have paid for the privilege to sit freezing cold on a river in Bedford, being marshalled for a Head Race. Having experienced the Siberian winds, hail, snow, rain and sleet for free in Cambridge this morning, however, I admitted to a moment's gladness that my crew had bailed on me for the said race. Brrr, it was cold. And when no-one will peel off any layers, the rowing is *bad* as snowmen aren't renowned for their flexibility or manual dexterity. Indeed, I'll prove to you it was cold. I actually put the heating on for a couple of hours today and got the flat up from 10 degrees C to a roasting 14. Mind, I feel decadent now.

The requisite amount of faffage

Just how much faffing is required when it comes to trailering boats? It always seems to be disproportionate to the task in hand, and tonight was no exception. If you also want to take 2 hours 20 mins to trailer two fours, you will need:

1. an organiser who is the only person who knows where the trailer is etc. etc. to turn up at least half an hour late
2. several of the trailerage crew to not show, and a bare minimum to show at all
3. to increase the number of trips needed between the boat house and trailer by as many times as possible by forgetting trestles, boat ties etc. etc.
4. to not notice until you come to tie the boat onto the trailer that you have less than half the necessary number of ties, and so need to send out to the shops

My afternoon of coxing...

Today was the Cambridge Autumn Head. This meant:

1. a little bit of rowing (in division 1)
2. quite a lot of coxing (divisions 3 and 4)

My prediction is that the crew from division 3 will have been the fastest, having had the benefit of having been chased most of the way by a college crew. Other rowing news is that I have exchanged the 'Shed of Doom' (Graduate Society erg room) with the 'Attic of Pain' (Christs' erg room). Having not sat on an erg for over three years (and over four with any determination), it was a shock to the system to have to use one of those aptly named machines. So you might be wondering why I subjected myself to this? The Vets Fours Head. It's in three weeks time. And I'm supposed to be doing it. What else can I say but 'erg(h)'.

My weekend with fire engines

Two things characterized this weekend:

1. Waiting outside in windy and/or wet weather


2. Fire engines

Sadly I did not see the fire engine on Saturday, although I'm told that one was called and resolved the incident. Location: the Cam. Incident: horse in river holding up sculling event for over an hour. Lots of fun trying to stay still in windy weather.

I did see the fire engine today though, for about four seconds. Location: Parkside Pool. Incident: who knows, a false alarm one can only presume. Best bit: standing outside in swimming costume in very cheap space blanket without glasses and feeling like an extra for a very poorly budgeted episode of Dr. Who from the earliest of early days. Needless to say this didn't do much to help me cross the Channel...