In Linz...

Well, first I had to fly to Vienna, which was fine. I was, as always, mildly apprehensive, but once through a thin band of cloud there were blue skies all the way and, fortunately, I had a window seat so I simply stared out for the entire flight, stopping briefly to eat a Twix and drink some tea and then finishing off (at last) the rather lightweight Satsuma Complex by Bob Mortimer, which had been bugging me for weeks. I didn't really like it because the lead character, Gary, was definitely him and the whole book was like listening to Mortimer being Mortimer and I'll admit that it started to grate on me. Him talking to a squirrel was a little irritating too as was everything about it, it was just low rent in my opinion and I found it hard to believe that it was 'an international bestseller'. I'd imagine people bought it on the strength of if being a book by Bob Mortimer and they probably guffawed and tittered at every Bob Mortimerism they stumbled across – there were many – and to be totally honest, I hated them, every single one of them. I'd been getting slowly fed up with Mortimer ever since I realised that his Gone Fishing programme with Paul Whitehouse was nothing but talking about serious illness and getting old, two of my least favourite subjects. Anyway, I turned the last page and placed the book back on the small tray-sized table whilst on my Austrian Airlines flight to Vienna and sighed a huge sigh of relief: now I can read something different, something decent, like Willy Vlautin's The Horse, a book I found in Waterstone's in Guildford a few weeks ago. Vlautin is far, far a better writer and within a few lines I was hooked. I've read all of Vlautin's output, starting with Northline back in 2010 or possibly a year earlier, I can't recall, and then I read everything he'd written and waited for the next one to come along. And now it has, The Horse, his second story about a horse, the first one being Lean On Pete. The Motel Life and Lean on Pete have both been made into movies.

Linz, around 1630hrs on Thursday 31st October 2024.

Whilst on the ground at London Heathrow's Terminal 2, the queues for security were long and it was all because people were ignoring the advice offered them: no liquids in luggage. But no matter how many times people were told, they simply weren't listening. One stupid stupid woman got all the way to the scanner and still thought she'd get away with two slender cans of some kind of shit, she just didn't get it, and I'd already seen another idiot try to hide a bottle of aftershave in one of his cases but he owned up as he reached the scanner. I was planning on shopping him as I simply can't stand stupid, ignorant people. I hate them and they're everywhere.

Down by the river in Linz, Thursday 31 October 2024.

When we landed I went straight to reclaim belt 8 and waited a few minutes for my suitcase and then I sailed through customs and decided that I ought to eat a decent meal, so I stopped at Wolfgang Puck's, I've never tried his restaurants before, and ordered a traditional Italian meat sauce and pasta dish along with a no-alcohol beer, it wasn't too pricey and I didn't bother with dessert or a starter or a coffee afterwards as I had a train to catch. It takes around two hours to reach Linz and the journey was chilled as I sat there reading The Horse and sipping on a mug of tea that had been offered. Mind you, I hate being offered something and then later I spy them preparing the receipt. You get nothing for nothing.

A steelworks on the outskirts of the city

I took a cab to my hotel, the Leonardo Boutique Hotel in the City Centre and I immediately realised that I'd stayed here before when it was called something else. It was okay, but as soon as I'd checked in and was given my keycard I sensed problems and I was right. The key card simply didn't work so I had to trampse all the way back down to the ground floor to get another one. Another thing that really annoys me about some hotels (including this one) was when I realised the lift wouldn't work unless I scanned my keycard. The door shut and the lift remained stationary until I remembered. Again, very annoying.

The room (when I eventually got there) was pleasant and roomy. There was, of course, a bathroom, the shower working perfectly (but no bath tub, not that I use bath tubs anymore); the bed was comfortable and I couldn't really have asked for more. What did annoy me was the glass door to the bathroom as that meant that I couldn't leave the light on in the bathroom (I like a bit of light when I sleep away from home). So I had to sleep in virtual darkness, which I got used to, but that was later on, first I needed some dinner and found a place called Glorious Bastards. How corny it was, like some contrived and falsely upbeat diner from the early eighties with a horribly quirky 'menu' and a load of so-called trendy types as waiting staff. I asked for a menu and he pointed to a piece of wood with a QR code. I had to scan it on my iphone and read the menu on the phone. One day I'm going to ditch my iphone for a Nokia 3310 and then they'll have to give me a proper menu. I found having to scan a QR code a bit of a cheek. I can't stand it when I have to do the job of the waiter or the airline or the supermarket, especially when the prices haven't come down to compensate, but I persevered and all was well. I ordered a chicken burger with chips and it wasn't long before it arrived. In fact, it was fairly pleasant and was washed down with a no-alcohol beer. I was, it has to be said, feeling a little bit depressed and stressed as I had a big presentation to be getting on with the following day in front of a crowd of 200 people. 

I walked home to the hotel (all of 10 minutes) and then had a shower and a shave and hit the sack. I awoke a couple of times during the night, but all was fine and soon it was time to get up, have breakfast and head off in a taxi to the outskirts of town to strut my stuff. The hotel breakfast was fine, it did the trick, but I didn't go over the top, no scrambled egg and white sausage for me, instead I have a bowl of cereal and a cup of tea (I think I had two) and then ordered a cab from reception.

The day was spent working and fretting a little bit (about my panel discussion, which in the end went very well) and chatting and being me in front of many people, but it all went swimmingly and soon it was time to get a cab home and await the event's gala dinner at 2000hrs, which proved to be a great success with some decent company and excellent food. I walked home as the restaurant was only 10 minutes (if that) from my hotel and then I hit the sack again, setting my alarm for 0600hrs as the conference I was attending started at 0800hrs (another longish day ahead). But soon it was all over and a waiting game of sorts ensued. Waiting, that is, to go home, which I will do tomorrow, but first I need to catch a train to Vienna so tomorrow will be a day of travelling.

View from room 412, Leonardo Boutique Hotel, City Centre.

When I reached my room, around 1600hrs, the room hadn't been tidied up by the maids and as I entered I told one of them I would be 10 minutes, then I quickly changed out of the suit I was wearing and headed out for a walk around town, where, I noticed, virtually every shop was a women's underwear retailer: Intimissimo, Triumph, 'Linzerie' (geddit?) and other brands I can't remember. I walked to the river and took a photograph and then dived into a pharmacy to buy some refreshing mouthwash, which set me back 19 Euros. That was a bit pricey, I thought, but I wanted it so I have it and I feel refreshed and ripped off at the same time. Or rather my mouth feels refreshed.

Later, I encountered some stupid people, this time in a coffee shop I'd been to before, the last time I was here, in 2023 or maybe 2022. I ordered English Breakfast but was given Earl Grey, I asked for milk and got an empty jug and I asked if there were power points to charge my phone and the woman behind the counter told me they didn't have any. Fat lot of good they were! I looked around, checked out a bike shop I remembered from my last trip here (it was closed) and then headed back to the hotel and here I am now wondering whether I even want to go out for dinner tonight and, if I do go, where I should go? Who knows? I'll think about it later. I must say that I prefer travelling with somebody rather than alone as it's much nicer dining with somebody rather than sitting there alone like Billy No Mates.

Room 412, Leonardo Boutique Hotel, Linz, 31st October 2024.

Right now I sit alone at my hotel room desk writing this blogpost. Everything is quiet and it's dark outside at 1745hrs. I will have dinner, when I don't know, but right now I can't be bothered to go out. 

There's a huge flat screen television in front of me over the desk, but I can't be bothered to watch it as most of the channels are dubbed over in German and the only English channels are the BBC, but it's not the normal Beeb, and also CNN, which I really can't stomach at the moment. I'm bored now and I'm too tired to do any work and besides, it's almost 1800hrs so I can officially down tools, which has been the case since 1600hrs. Tomorrow I can lie in, have a later breakfast, check out train times to Vienna and start packing up. I'd much prefer a train journey home, but unfortunately I've got to fly, but hey ho. At least I can have a leisurely breakfast.

Earlier, as I walked around Linz, I thought that a particular part of town was familiar to me; at the time I was in a cab en route to the Leonardo and I wracked my brain until I remembered that it wasn't Linz I was thinking about but Udine in Italy. I often wonder whether I haven't travelled anywhere and that I'm still back in the UK and that the scenery was changed by people unknown while I slept. A creepy thought.

Two rides and The Levellers too!

Despite saying (in the previous post) that I never get around to anything I say that I want to do, I did manage two rides this weekend, one a non-stop to Botley Hill and back via Beech Farm Road (around 14 miles) and then a ride to Tatsfield Village to meet Andy at Sheree's Tearooms. Saturday's ride saw spitting rain, but Sunday was great weather. On both days it was warm, which was great, and now I hear that some really good weather is coming our way - well, according to the Daily Star, which this morning is promising temperatures of 20 dec C! Bring it on is what I say.

Non-stop ride Saturday. Turning on to Ledgers Lane.

Not a bad weekend as it happens. Saw Bon and mum on Saturday and then on Sunday (after the ride and a prawn and mayo snack for lunch) a trip to Guildford, which was very pleasant.

Got back, made a fantastic Sunday roast chicken with roast potatoes and stuffing and then slobbed around watching television.

Looking out from Sheree's on Sunday morning.

My current obsession is a band called The Levellers, they're not new and were huge in the 90s, playing Glastonbury twice in 1992 and 1994. They have a documentary film titled A Curious Life which provides a profile of the band and their music and it's so positive in its outlook that I keep watching it over and over, it's also very funny. I like people who are always laughing and The Levellers and, it seems, everybody associated with them, are constantly smiling or laughing at the end of each sentence. The music is good too with One Way, their anthem, offering up something really positive and, above all, happy, which I love.

On a previous ride to Oxted.

There's also the excellent Jeremy Cunningham, the band's bassist, who is the key figure throughout the documentary. The Brighton-based band broke with the tradition of Brighton-based bands by not playing just in Brighton. Very soon they gained a major following around the UK and had the support of what used to be called the New Age Traveller movement. The Levellers are very political and their heroes were/are The Clash, particularly the late, great Joe Strummer.The Clash, of course, had plenty of political messages and The Levellers found them inspiring (and rightly so).

I'm one of those people who thrives on positivity and niceness (of which there's very little at this present time) - especially as the threat of another Trump presidency looms large. During the pandemic I found myself watching all three series of Detectorists over and over because it had a certain quality to it, not only in that it was well-written and well-acted but also because it had an air of hope and pleasantness about it. Likewise A Curious Life.

Curiously, the band never really hit it off with the music press of the time, which I find really odd as bands like The Levellers, in my humble opinion, are just the sort of band that I would have been championing had I been a journalist on the NME or Melody Maker, but then, as Jeremy Cunningham makes clear in the documentary, "we didn't need them and they didn't need us" which, while a shame in some respects, was about the size of it, but then The Levellers clearly didn't need them, they did perfectly well without them and are still going strong today; and where, pray, are the NME and Melody Maker?

I'm planning on buying a Levellers fire pit for the garden, styled around their famous 'rolling A' and also probably some merchandise too, like a beany hat and/or a tee-shirt, who knows? I might even go to one of their festivals if they're still going. The documentary, A Curious Life, was filmed in 2012, so 12 years ago, but I'm assuming all is well in Leveller Land and that they're all still going strong.

Jeremy Cunningham says he has low self-esteem and I have to say that I can't see why that should be, the guy's a genius, not only a good bass player but an artist and the man responsible for all the band's artwork. He's also an established artist in his own right and has exhibited at various galleries and that, to me, is the mark of a brilliant man. There's also an inherent kindness that makes him one of those people I'd have at my "dream dinner party". In short, he's great, and he's one of those people I'd love to meet just to chat about stuff.

The other great thing about the documentary is Cunningham's parents, clearly very proud of their son's achievements. They sing his praises from their house in Crawley, presumably Jeremy's childhood home, but I might be wrong, they might well have moved there after the kids moved out, I don't know. But the key thing to take away from A Curious Life is the laughter. All of The Levellers have laughter and happiness coursing through them, the laugh at the end of every sentence and I love that. Yes, the band had its problems with drugs and there's a particularly poignant moment when the spotlight turns on Jeremy's use of heroin, but fortunately the drink and drugs issues for each member of the band didn't happen simultaneously and Jeremy makes a point of saying he never missed a gig or anything because of a hangover or what have you; the man has class, dignity, creativity, niceness and everything good about humanity rolled into him. I would have liked to know more about how he took up the bass guitar, what inspired him to play the instrument and so on, but that's not a criticism of the documentary or the band, they're all fantastic.

A Curious Life can be found on Prime and I'm guessing that The Levellers' music is everywhere, in record stores and, of course, on Spotify.

The Levellers' Jeremy Cunningham.

I never get around to anything...

Last week I managed four short rides, which I was proud of, but this week, despite two days working from home, I didn't ride. In fact, today, Saturday, finds me considering a ride to mum's, literally, or possibly going out around 0800hrs to Oxted where I could get a haircut while I'm there. I need a haircut and I also need to visit the dentist, in fact the latter is urgent but I keep putting it off, which is what I'm like at the moment. I've noticed that I don't DO anything, despite saying that I must do this and I must do that, I simply don't DO a thing. There are so many promises in my head but none of them have been fulfilled. For years I've been promising myself a bass guitar so that I can learn something, ie learn to play a musical instrument. Somewhere back in the past I recall reading an article about stress busting, which claimed that playing a musical instrument can be a major way of de-stressing. But since then (and we're going back over 10 years) I simply haven't bothered, either because I haven't had the spare cash or because I find myself wondering 'Do I really want to play a musical instrument?' It's not as if I'm going to form a band and become some amazing musical sensation, I'm not, I'll just be one of those sad individuals who plays in their bedroom (or in my case, our so-called 'garden room'). Well, so what? Yes, I get that, so what? But I find myself talking down the idea and it's like so many things. Let's take the fireplace in our living room: another long-term idea that simply hasn't happened. We have the fireplace we inherited when we bought the house, which is basically a hole in the wall with nothing in it. Over the years we've added the odd electric stove (the height of naffness) but I've always wanted a real fire. But for various reasons it's never materialised and now, some 20+ years later it's still the same as it was when we moved in, a gaping hole in the wall that lets in the cold air. In fact, at this very moment we are reconsidering the whole thing, which means it could very well happen but I'm now asking myself, Do I really want a real fire? All that ash and preparations needed just to keep warm? In truth I don't and I'm finding that I have all these things that need doing but they simply don't get done because the reality is I don't need them or I simply can't be bothered or I go halfway towards doing something but then, for some reason, the process stops and I turn around a year later and start thinking about it again. This coming Christmas is easily the tenth or eleventh Christmas when I had planned to have a fire installed for the big day, but every years somebody remarks that nothing's been done about it. I'm supposed to be going there today to finalise options, 'there' being the fireplace shop, but today other things are on the cards which will most likely stop the process for another week.Another thing I keep saying I'm going to do is sign up for a swimming pool membership. That idea has been going on for well over a year and nothing has happened. I'll go to the pool, enquire about the different memberships but then do nothing about it, nothing at all. Holidays are the big one. "We must go on holiday next year," I'll assert after having not gone the year prior. Why haven't we gone? Because nobody booked in advance, which is what you're supposed to do, book in the new year for a holiday in the summer, but no, nothing. This year we faffed around, we got hold of brochures, even spoke to a travel agent but did we go anywhere? No, we ended up in the Cotswolds on what amounted to a 'short break' plus a week at home not being on holiday. And so it goes on and on and on. We think of stuff, say we must do X or Y or Z but we don't do anything. In short, we don't bite the bullet and I'll admit that it's starting to annoy me. But even the fact that it annoys me doesn't mean that anything gets done, nothing has been done about anything and I'm beginning to think that the reason is simple: I don't want to do any of things I keep saying I'm going to do, I don't need the things that I think I need with the only exception being a holiday. Right now, as the time approaches 0800hrs, I should be getting ready for a ride on the bike, I really ought to, but I'm not, I'm sitting here at 0757 wondering whether I should go later, but I know only too well that 'later' means somebody will say, 'take the car, then you'll be back and we can look at the fireplaces'... which is sensible in a sense, but it also means no ride today so UNLESS I get up now, right this minute and head out on the bike I won't be riding until tomorrow morning and then, as luck would have it, I'll probably discover that it's raining cats and dogs and that a ride is off the agenda for another week.What is wrong with me? It's a question I often ask, but a question I doubt will be answered because, like everything else, I simply never get round to anything. Ah! One more thing I'm losing, slowly but surely is writing this blog. I used to be as regular as clockwork, once a week, sometimes more, but the last time I "put pen to paper" was 12 October and that was ages ago. I used to hate arriving on somebody's blog page only to discover that they hadn't written anything for years and now, here I am, doing the same thing, give or take. And there's no use saying "just do it, just get out there, act, do something, don't just sit around" here I am doing just that. This morning I haven't even checked the weather, but I get the sneaky suspicion that rain will be on the agenda and that will put me off going. Look, I'd better go, I'm going to try to get out of the house within the next 30 minutes. I'll report back later on my progress.Actually, before I go, something else that has simply stopped is walking. I just don't walk anywhere anymore, preferring instead to sit in a cafe eating something unhealthy. I've noticed that everything in cafes these days involves cheese. There's a cafe in Sevenoaks (Sopranos) where virtually every dish involves cheese, and I've stopped going to my healthy cafe because the prices are extortionate and now I'm eating in a place called Poppins opposite McDonalds where, the last two times I was there, I 'enjoyed' a chicken with mayonnaise baguette and a couple of mugs of tea followed on both occasions with a toasted teacake. Anyway, things must change, I need to kick myself into gear and do stuff, although that's just it, things won't change, I won't kick myself into gear and everything will remain the same.

Farewell to Greg Moore, aka 'Gravelo'

It is with great sadness that I have to announce the passing of Gravelo, aka Greg Moore from Boone, Iowa. We never met except for online back in the days when Blogger had a "Next Blog" facility which enable users to find random blogs. At least that's how I think we linked up. It might not have been that way at all, but I remember when the facility existed that by pressing "next blog" it would often take me to a related site, ie a cycling site, and I can only assume that that was how we 'met'. That said, it could have been Greg himself stumbling across NoVisibleLycra. Who knows? Either way we linked up and I must say that Greg was a fantastic writer and he possessed some interesting bikes.

Greg Moore, aka Gravelo

I've always like Greg and his general attitude towards life. He was married, he had kids and he seemed like a really nice guy. I always hoped that one of my business trips to the USA would take me close to where he was based so that I could drop by and say hello, possibly even go on a ride with him, that would have been great, but it was never to be.

At some stage, Greg seemingly stopped his blog, https://gravelo.blogspot.com/to focus on running and I think he was running 5k per day, he really got into it and for a long while I thought he'd given up riding his bikes, but no, he hadn't, and Gravelo.blogspot continued, his last post being on 17 February 2024, he died four months later on 29 June 2024 and I only found out after writing a comment on the 17 February post, The Year of the Hat in which he talked, albeit briefly, about his brain cancer. He was forced to wear a crash helmet after an operation to protect the site and scar of brain surgery. In a previous post dated 6 December 2023 and entitled A first, of Sorts, For Me, he spoke of the crash: 

"I reached a terminal (nearly) speed of 31.7mph on the hill, brakes were not hooking up, tried to scrub speed with my foot to no avail, and ended up slamming into the back side of a ditch, neck and shoulders first, at 30 plus mph. My watch data shows a period of about 4½ minutes of ZERO movement right at the point where the speed track stops."

He died peacefully, surrounded by his family, but his memory will live on I'm sure. I will certainly remember him and can only say it was a shame we never met. I used to love receiving a message from Greg on the blog. Occasionally I look back on past posts and occasionally stumble upon comments from Greg, which were always most welcomed. It would also have been nice if Greg came to the UK and joined Andy and I on one of our rides, which he seemed to love reading about.

One of Greg's amazing bikes, this one always intrigued me

When my sister died in early December 2023, Greg kindly posted two comments, on 6 and 7 December:

Matthew, it is heartening to know that you are attempting to remain upbeat. My 3 siblings are living still and there is one that we all worry about, but still she persists in life. Wonderful healing machine, the bicycle. Stay true and stay well. Best Wishes, your friend, Greg "Gravelo" Moore (6 December 2023)

Hi Matthew, I'm sorry to learn of your sister's passing but glad to know that cycling will help to deliver you from the grief. The bicycle is a wonderful vehicle. Have a lovely Christmas and stay awesome in the new year! Your friend, Greg "Gravelo" Moore, USA! (7 December 2023)

I hope he'll rest in peace, I'm sure he will and I send my fond regards to his family.

Postscript: I almost forgot Greg's other passion, running. He set up a blog called 5ktherapy.blogspot.com and decided, I think, to run 5k every day. The last post was on 3 May 2019. Here is that last post in full:

"Long" route tonight, still only 3.1 miles but it's an out and back so it feels long. Funny how the brain can perceive things that way. It's like having a "long day"at work, even though the time you spent there was the same amount as any other day. It just feels long sometimes. I'm sure that as your lives become busier in the coming years that the times apart from you will seem like forever for Mom and I, even though it may only be for a few months at a time. Like now. It feels like an eternity sometimes...