Tesco ASBO specials, a girl's bike – what a disastrous morning!

Monday 26 May 2014: This weekend was definitely not to be as far as cycling was concerned. First, heavy rain on Saturday aborted the ride and then, on Sunday, while the weather was fine, there were other problems. A late start (leaving the house at 0730hrs) was perfect, but as soon as I reached the garage I found a flat front tyre. Not a problem, you might think, but you'd be wrong! There's something afoot with my front wheel, something to do with the thread. It means that when I loosen the bolts to remove the wheel, both nuts revolve and nothing unscrews. Very irritating. Normally it requires two spanners: one to hold one side while I unscrew the opposite nut. But it's not working and soon I realise that it's all getting a bit late and...I'm going to have to ride my daughter's bike or abort.

Look at the state of me: the Tesco ASBO specials, a girl's bike and my head

crammed into a crash helmet, exposing some wire wool hair that needs a cut.

Off I go in my disgusting, grey and chavvy Tesco ASBO trousers, one leg tucked into a grey sock, on a bright pink girl's bike and I look terrible. Not only that, I soon realise how fantastic my Spongy Wonder saddle has been over the years in terms of protecting the family jewels. The seat on my new ride is hard, unforgiving and, unfortunately, angled slighty upwards at the front end. In other words, the ride is very uncomfortable. So uncomfortable that I'll just about make Warlingham Green. 

We stop on the green, which I thought was a first for NoVisibleLycra – it wasn't as I did the same on 3rd February 2013 – and sip our tea. Phil brought the cereal bars and we sat there chatting for a good 30 minutes. Then there was almost a catastrophe. An embarrassing catastrophe. I wasn't really paying that much attention to what was going on around me as I poured very hot water from the flask into the cups to clean them and then throwing the water on to the grass. A woman crossing the green passes where we were standing as I turned around in preparation to sling the water from the cup...and it was just a matter of luck that she wasn't hit. It would have been the perfect end to a calamitous morning, I thought, as I embarked upon an uncomfortable ride home.

On Bank Holiday Monday I awoke to the sound of rain, once again, hammering down on the conservatory roof. As I sit here now at 0654hrs it's still pouring down so I've aborted a planned ride with Phil. I managed to fix the front wheel and what was even worst was the fact that I didn't seem to have a puncture. Yesterday, I inflated the inner tube before going for a drive into the countryside (a place we call 'the elephant shop' but which, in fact, is called Trading Boundaries, a kind of shop and gig venue for old rockers and tribute acts near a place called Danehill, not a million miles from Forest Row and 10 miles northish of Lewes.

Girl's bike on Warlingham Green.

By the time I returned, around 1800hrs, the inner tube was still inflated so I submerged it in water and found no bubbles. Having fixed the wheel as best I could I put everything back together but decided not to pump up the tyre. Right now, the bike is out there, upturned and with a deflated front tyre, but it's all academic as the rain continues to hammer down and shows no sign of abating. Here's hoping the rain will have stopped by next weekend.

Bank holiday weekend – a few early morning thoughts

Caribou crossing – an interesting sculpture in Indianapolis, IN. USA

I'm pleased with the interest shown in my blog by the folks of Indianapolis (see previous post for more details). I'm reading David Byrne's Bicycle Diaries at the moment – it's not my main book, but I occasionally pick it up when I want to chill out a little as it is a very chilled and laid back creation, ideal for a sunny day accompanied by a glass of Cabernet. I'm about half way through it (on the chapter about Buenos Aires) but this morning I flicked back to the beginning to find a quote that the guys in Indianapolis might not necessarily agree with (although the fact that the Pacers' Bike Share scheme there is only a few weeks old might mean that Byrne is right).

Byrne says that 'most US cities are not very bike friendly' and adds that they are not very pedestrian friendly either. 'They're car friendly – or at least they try very hard to be', he says and being as he's an American who lives in an American city, he's probably right, but that makes the two bike share schemes I've tried in North America (in Montreal and San Antonio) worthy enterprises – and here's hoping there will be more in the not-too-distant future. I think they work in some cities and not in others.

A dedicated cycle lane on the Indianapolis bike share scheme

Do they work in London? Well, I would avoid riding in London at all costs regardless of the type of bike available. It's simply not safe and there have been many media reports of fatal clashes with lorries. City cycling only works if specific travelways can be established, like in Indianapolis, or, failing that, if the traffic, by and large, isn't that heavy (like in San Antonio and Montreal). In Montreal, for  instance, I remember standing in the middle of the road to take a photograph of the distinct lack of traffic on a Saturday morning around 0900hrs – it wouldn't be possible in London. Likewise in San Antonio. But in Essen, Germany, there's an element of taking my life into my own hands as the situation there is 'here's a bike, provided by the council' but that's it, you're on your own, sharing space with the traffic and it's a similar story in London. Travel to Milton Keynes and you'll find dedicated cycle lanes, similar to those in Amsterdam and other parts of Holland where city planners took the bicycle into consideration.

Bridge over the canal in Indianapolis – all very pleasant

Here in the UK, bad weather was promised this bank holiday weekend and bad weather was received in the form of rain. I awoke early on Saturday morning expecting a ride to Westerham in Kent, with Andy and Phil, but the rain was hammering down outside and was still doing so around 0600hrs so I sent out the abort text. On and off it rained all day, with little patches of sunshine here and there, and by early evening it was quite pleasant. It was one of those deceptive days. Had I woken up to a spot of sunny weather I might have gone out and then taken a soaking en route, but the morning was constant rain and the patchiness didn't start occuring until later in the day.

Now, sitting here in the conservatory at 0641hrs on Sunday, the plan is to ride out with Phil, possibly the slow way to the Tatsfield bus stop. Andy's out of circulation now until next week. His only opportunity for a ride would have been yesterday (Saturday).

A map showing the various bike stations dotted around Indianapolis

Things have conspired against us and we haven't been cycling a lot recently. Mainly it's been me travelling (I was in Indianapolis for the best part of 10 days if you include the getting back) and then it was the poor weather. Oddly, it's a been a time of extremes as over the Easter holidays I managed roughly 10 consecutive days of riding, all of which are detailed on this blog (just scroll back and you'll find the relevant posts).

Indianapolis' fantastic yellow bicycles

The blinds are down so I can't see the garden from where I'm sitting, although I can detect that there's a breeze as I can see the tops of some shrubs swinging from side-to-side. Still, as long as it doesn't rain it'll be alright.

Fame for NoVisibleLycra in Indianapolis...

The website UrbanIndy.com has published one of my two articles on the new Indianapolis Bike Share Scheme and linked to the second one. Click here for more details. Also, scroll down or see side panel for Indianapolis bike share articles as well as other places around the world.

To the Tatsfield churchyard...

I realised the other day that, apart from two rides in Indianapolis the week before last (scroll down to see both posts) I haven't riden out, in the traditional sense, for about a month. In fact, the last time Andy and I hit the road we rode to Tatsfield village and then a mixture of rain and travelling prevented further rides.

This weekend, however, with the weather fantastic – hot sun, clear skies – it was even a case of heading out in a tee-shirt and not the usual layers of clothing. It's amazing how fast the scenery can change when the sun raises its head. Warlingham Green is now in full bloom and the banks alongside the 269 are full of greenery overhanging into the road.

Sanderstead pond, Sunday 18th May 2014. Note the reeds in full bloom.

As I rode past the pond at Sanderstead the reeds were in full bloom, there was a comfortable, warm breeze and all was good with the world. I was running a little late, but nothing to be concerned about and when I reached the green Andy was there and ready to go. We headed for Knight's Garden Centre and beyond and decided to go to the Tatsfield churchyard rather than Westerham and the café, our original plan.

Once seated we discussed my recent trip to Indianapolis and then moved on the current round of celebrity sex trials, the hottest right now being Rolf Harris. What we were both amazed about is how the law in this country is so fickle. The normal state of affairs is that you're innocent until proven guilty, but in cases like those surrounding Rolf Harris, the recently imprisoned Max Clifford and the soon-to-be re-tried Dave Lee Travis, it's the other way around. In fact, the onus is on the defendants, once accused, to prove that they are innocent despite the fact that the whole thing is based, in the eyes of the jury, on the word of one person against the other, there's little in the way of hard evidence and basically, any woman can accuse any man of sexual impropriety and the man in question would have to undergo a trial in court.

What amazes me is how anybody can have a clear memory of anything that happened over 30 years ago. I know that I have trouble remembering the names of former colleagues from as little as 10 years ago.

With the current trials there is certainly something afoot; there's more to it than meets the eye and we, the public, as usual, are being kept in the dark. I suspect part of it is to do with the fact that 'they' can't get Saville (because he's dead) so they have to convict somebody (anybody) in order to redress the balance. Scapegoats are always required and the whole things fuels another caper, possibly dreamed up by the secret services: that there are paedophiles lurking on every street corner and that even friendly, neighbourhood celebrities are kiddie fiddlers.

We began to wonder whether the secret services were in some way involved and that the agenda was wider than just getting somebody to pay for Saville's crimes. Ultimately, it's all about social control, keeping people off the streets and instilling a sense of fear in the populous – when the reality is there's nothing to fear. There are so many examples of this: think Tony Blair and his 45-minute warning on WMD. It was all lies. Suddenly we found ourselves agreeing with those who are generally rubbished by the establishment – the conspiracy theorists.

But, as always, it's one of those arguments that will never be won or understood so we sipped our tea, munched our Kellogg's Nutragrain bars and watched two gravediggers who simply stood around chatting for the entire time we were there. Talk about easy money.

In Chicago...

Now I don't know what to think about Chicago and you must forgive me for even passing judgement having been in town for no more than a few hours and having just an hour or two downtown. In fact, in that sense, my judgement doesn't count at all. But personally, I found Chicago not so much 'my kinda town' but a bit boring.

On the streets of Chicago – not my kind of town

I took the CTA downtown (roughly 40 minutes) but the journey was punctuated by a replacement bus service between Logan Square and Western, giving me a chance to see the streets of Chicago. Oddly, there was something familiar about them; something almost English. I could have been in South London and everything looked a lot older than, say, Indianapolis downtown. I can't put my finger on it, but yes, I could have been in Peckham, south east London, on a hot Saturday afternoon.

Downtown Chicago

The downtown seemed much more established than other downtowns I've visited and more in keeping with London and New York. I jumped off the train at Clark and Lake and found myself in a similar environment to a scene from Grand Theft Auto as the CTA track was elevated over the roads and I was reminded not only of GTA but also some movie scenes, normally those involving car chases. I'm thinking particularly of The French Connection which, for all I know, was filmed in Chicago (I'll check that out later).

They have a bike share scheme in Chicago too, but there was little time to take advantage of it so I took a photograph of the bikes in a docking station and that was it.

The odd thing was that Clark and Lake put me in the business district (or so I was told) and everything, restaurants included – although there weren't any proper restaurants, just sandwich shops – was closed. I soon discovered I was walking in the wrong direction, but even when a helpful guy in a covered market directed me to the proper downtown, I still hadn't gone far enough and in the end settled for a snack lunch in the Corner Bakery, a shop with more than one outlet in Chicago, where I had a fairly pleasant chicken carbonara and a paper cup full of tea. After that there was little to do other than go back to the Marriott O'Hare and head for the airport. I decided against the CTA for the journey back as I didn't fancy that replacement bus service between Western and Logan Square and instead jumped a taxi. There was heavy traffic on the road for some inexplicable reason, but I got back in good time, retrieved my case and had a glass of Cabernet before boarding the hotel shuttle to the airport – and more hassles.

Chicago has a bike share scheme too

I just knew things wouldn't be straightforward and once again it was American Airlines at fault. Oddly, however, whenever there were problems it invariably involved the number 13. The gate back at Indianapolis was H13 (although, to be honest, it might have been H11, I'm not sure, but when the plane pulled away from the gate I couldn't see H11, all I saw was H13) and now the London flight was going out of K13. Having had lunch in Chicago I decided to resist the temptation to visit my favourite Romano's Macaroni Grill and instead walked around aimlessly until my legs were tired enough to make me sit down and read (I've nearly finished Lean on Pete by Willy Vlautin).

But of course there were problems. The American Airlines 767 at gate K13 was going nowhere. There was something wrong with it; so now we've had a faulty door on the AA flight from Indianapolis and an unexplained problem with the 767 that would have flown us to London. We're moved to gate K15 and a new plane, from the hangar, is brought over – eventually. However, the delay has meant that my connecting flight from Dublin to London – not sure if I mentioned the fact that I couldn't fly direct to London Heathrow due to fully booked flights – would be missed, so I had to re-book on the 1145 Dublin to London flight instead and this meant another call to my taxi company in London to reschedule my pick-up. I was getting tired and emotional.

Three hours out of Dublin, Sunday morning

We flew out of Chicago around 8pm instead of the planned 6.30pm and I then had a seven-hour, 30-minute flight ahead of me. All pretty smooth and I had plenty of legroom in seat 11b, but only managed to get about an hour's sleep. At Dublin I transferred to Terminal One (a short walk) and after a bowl of Alpen, a cup of tea and an apple I was ready for the short flight to London during which time I had a shortbread biscuit and one of those small bottles of red wine that I love so much when I fly.

At London, fortunately, I was reunited with my suitcase and everything was intact, but I then had the cab ride from hell. The taxi driver – a shifty-eyed individual with swallows tattooed on both hands (which means he's done time) insisted on playing Bobby Darin at high volume and then engaged me in conversation over the noise of the music. It would have been irritating enough had I not been jet-lagged, but as I was jet-lagged it was even worse. At one stage, however, I actually nodded off, but imagine the horror: a drive home through South West London (my cab driver pointing out local landmarks – like Feltham Young Offenders Institute) while the music played and I occasionally acknowledged something he said with an 'uh' or a 'yeah'. I was so glad when he pulled up outside my house. I jumped out, bade him farewell and rang the front doorbell. I was home.

Stranded in the Windy City

Travelling can be a right palavar! And it always seems odd that I start to make decisions that will somehow backfire on me later in the day. One, for example, was deciding to check in my suitcase. I put my laptop in there and my wallet full of receipts and all because I figured that with such a full suitcase I'd have one helluva time getting the laptop back in after going through security. So I checked it in: mistake number one. Well, perhaps that was the only mistake, I don't know. I also distinctly remember a conversation I had with Mike, the manager of my hotel, the gist of which was that to fly long haul with an American airline was not good and certainly not as good as flying with British Airways. And guess what? I will eventually fly home on an American airline. It's amazing how conversations tempt fate in a certain way and how decisions come back to haunt me.

Anyway, I reach Indianapolis airport, Sam drops me off and I go through security and, for the first time ever, I hear my name boomed over the tannoy system. It turns out they want to search my bag and they need the combination on the lock. I give it to them and that's the end of it, although I start thinking, what if they simply steal my laptop or my wallet? So that bugged me, but I went through the security process and soon it was obvious that there was something wrong with the plane. It turns out that there's a faulty door and we, that is me and my fellow passengers, wonder if it'll be fixed in time. Eventually it is fixed and we're sitting in the plane. Outside there's some pretty severe storms going on and this means, as we're making our way to the runway, the pilot decides to turn us around and go back to the gate to get more fuel. Why he didn't have enough fuel in the first place is not explained, but I'm thinking it's got something to do with re-routing the journey and so on.

But of course it doesn't end there. We're told 10 minutes, but it turns into a couple hours and soon it is obvious that all of us on board are going to miss our connections. We eventually fly out of Indianapolis, the flight's pleasant, we land and then the process of sorting things out begins. I wanted to know what would happen to my suitcase as it won't be transferred to the London flight because that was long gone. Eventually I'm rebooked on an American Airlines flight to Dublin for Saturday night and this means a stay in the Marriott O'Hare, which is fine if you forgive them for labyrinthine corridors.

Dinner was pleasant enough and that old Dunkirk spirit crept in too, which is always nice. There was a small group of us: an American judge from Indianapolis and his South Korean wife, a former cop from Colorado and a girl who's heavily involved in to some kind of historical re-enactment society based in Indianapolis (she was flying to Lake Tahoe, the rest of us to London). In fact, the cop was staying near to me in Kingston upon Thames.

We all had breakfast and then I checked out and right now it's Saturday morning and I'm considering going downtown, although I don't want to be stranded down there and miss my flight, but I'll probably jump on the train (the CTA) at a place called Cumberland and ride the 40 minutes into town just to say I've been there. I need to be back around 3.30pm to catch the shuttle back to the airport (Terminal 3) and my flight to Dublin and from there my flight to London.

I discovered by chatting to people and listening to media reports that Indianapolis and Chicago are virtually equal in the battle to be the USA's most murderous capital. Whoever loses, of course,will be number two and it's looking as if Indianapolis might win. And guess who was staying in a dodgy neighbourhood out on East Washington? Yes, you guessed it. Me. And my taxi driver told me there were crack heads in a motel a few blocks away from my hotel and all manner of unsavoury people hanging around elsewhere. And now I'm in Chicago, a city with similar crime credentials.

I can't upload any images for this post because my camera is in my case along with everything else I need. American Airlines kindly provided me with a small overnight bag containing all the essentials, so at least I could shave and brush my teeth, but they didn't provide a change of clothes so I'm dressed exactly as I was yesterday. Still, I'm rested and ready to get back on the plane later today.

Making the most of my 24-hour $8.00 bike pass

Picking up a bike on Maryland Avenue, Indianapolis

I docked the bike at Massachussets Avenue and Alabama...

Once the conference had ended I found myself out on the street in the baking heat wondering what to do. There was no point going all the way back to the hotel so I moseyed around town thinking about where to get some lunch. I remembered I still had a few hours to run on my bike share 24-hour pass so I found the bike port on Maryland and went through the fairly simple procedure of getting a bike off the rack. It beep-beeped until I pulled it from its housing and after stuffing my laptop case in the rear pannier I headed off in the general direction of Massachussets Avenue using a mixture of the sidewalks, roads and the Cultural Trail.

Down by the White River

My bike on the banks of the White River

I was under the impression that Massachussets Avenue would be some kind of vibrant road full of lively cafés and restaurants, but it wasn't; there were pizza restaurant/pubs and Mexican restaurant/bars plus a Starbucks and no vibe at all. But I'd cycled all this way and you're only allowed to use the bikes for 30-minute stints so I parked up and headed for Bazbeaux Pizza (www.bazbeaux.com) where I ordered a 10in Garden pizza thinking there was going to be some kind of healthy slant to it. How wrong! Although what did I expect? I was in a pizzeria. It was fairly pleasant, especially as it was accompanied by Triton Dead Eye Stout (5.5%) and some garlic bread with cheese.

I picked up another bike here at the White River State Park docking station

Back at Massachussets Avenue and Alabama – I walked back from here

The whole experience was relaxing. The music was laid back and included The Pretenders and the Boo Radleys plus others. The restaurant had a laid back vibe too and the staff were friendly. I could have sat there all afternoon, but that would have been wrong. But I needed to chill a little, even if I was a little concerned that, with the Garden pizza, I'd broken the pattern of healthy eating that had so far characterised this trip. In fact, it was my food choice that prompted me to make maximum use of my 24-hour pass on the bike share scheme so, after a quick cup of tea in the Starbucks across the road and with a couple hours still to go on my 24-hour bike pass, I took out another bike and headed back into the city centre on the the Cultural Trail, passing some of the haunts I'd visited yesterday and heading down to the banks of the White River, a two-forked river that runs through central and southern Indiana and is a staggering 362 miles long.

Indiana old and new

It was another hot day, easily in the mid-seventies, if not hotter, and there was only so far I could go without crossing the river and I knew that pretty soon my time would be up and I'd incur costs by continuing to ride the bike. So I turned around and picked up the Cultural Trail again, heading this time back into the centre of the city. I changed the bike at White River State Park and then rode on and around the trail and eventually ended up back at Massachussets Avenue and the same stop I'd visited prior to finding Bazbeaux Pizza. This time, with my time well and truly up, I docked the bike and then headed back into town on foot, in search of Washington Street and a taxi back to my hotel.

A great way to get around the city and burn off some calories

I jumped into a cab near the Hyatt and here I am writing this post at 1853hrs and wondering whether it's worth heading back into town just to eat. That pizza was quite enough in many respects and I could always cross the parking lot and check out the Bob Evan's restaurant. We'll see.

It was good to get back on the bike again; this time I rode for a good couple of hours, probably just under, but at least for 90 minutes (or thereabouts).

Taking a ride around Indianapolis on the Cultural Trail...

My Indianapolis bike – perfect in every way.

Yours truly on a bridge over a canal in Indianapolis.

As the day drew to close as far as the convention was concerned and all the work was done, I decided to check out Indianapolis' new bike share scheme. It costs $8 for a 24-hour pass but you have to put the bikes back into a docking station after 30 minutes. There are plenty of docking stations dotted around the city and every docking station offers maps showing exactly where they (and you) are.

Informative signs like this one are dotted around the route.

The bikes are bright yellow and have panniers at the rear and a basket at the front. As I had my laptop and a few other things, I used both the panniers and the basket, unhooked a bike and then headed off on the Indianapolis Cultural Trail, a kind of cycle path around the city that takes riders through what can only be described as some of the nicest parts of this city I've seen. The weather was good too: sunny, blue skies, very summery, and as soon as I'd mounted the bike I felt good about life.

Plenty of helpful signage lines the route of the Cultural Trail

It was around 1715 when I set off and, theoretically, I should have returned the bike to a docking station after 30 minutes had elapsed, but I was uncertain what happened after that; would I be able to take out another bike in order to reach home again? Eventually, I had to ask and was told that you simply re-dock the bike and then re-insert your credit card and you can take it out again. I was also told that if you go over they charge you something like $2.00, which is a fair cop. I'd been riding for about 50 minutes, but I wanted to dock my bike back in the docking station from where I'd taken it, so I've taken the excess fee on the chin as I didn't really want to mess about too much.

And some intriguing works of art too...

The trail was fantastic. First of all, it was safe. Second, being a lovely day, and given that there was plenty of green space around, I loved every minute of it. The bikes, incidentally, were easy to ride. They had three gears, controlled on the handlebars, and they were very stable too. If there was a problem it was the constant stopping and starting as the trail crossed busy roads like Washington, New York and Michigan. The problem here was that the lights never seemed to change or they would take an age and I found myself edging out on to the tarmac when I saw a break in the traffic rather than wait, which was a little frustrating.

Bike number 5 – back in its dock, albeit a bit later than expected...

The trail took me past museums and an interesting sculpture – or possibly it was an art 'installation', although I'd rather call it sculpture – of some caribou crossing a stream and then onwards, past university buildings hemmed in by green space and then some pleasant-looking houses and a canal on which pedalos could be hired. I eventually turned back on myself and followed the road back to my original docking station where, 50 minutes or so later, I re-docked the bike. It was almost 6pm.

Indianapolis' bike share scheme offers a different perspective of the city.

Having riden bike share schemes in Montreal (twice) and in Essen in Germany, not forgetting San Antonio in Texas, I think it would be fair to say that the best ride (and possibly the best bikes) award goes to Indianapolis. It was a real pleasure cycling around the city on a pleasant and safe cycle path and hopefully I'll get the chance to have another go tomorrow prior to my 24-hour pass running out around 5pm.

Not so many fat Americans...

Perhaps the Americans are getting the message and possibly they're feeling a little dumbfounded at people poking fun at them all the time because they're overweight. I'm not sure what it is, but while I saw a fair few fat Americans at Chicago O'Hare airport – where they are strapped into extra-wide wheelchairs and pushed around from one gate to another – I've not seen that many morbidly obese Americans here in Indianapolis and this might (just might) be because there are more healthier options on restaurant menus and the city now has a bike share scheme – albeit just a week old – but which I tried out today, and, well, that's it.

Lunch at McCormick & Schmick's, the Hilton, Indianapolis, USA

I have always remarked in conversation about food that the Americans are the only people I know who can take something essentially healthy and then smother it in crap to make it unhealthy, either by deep-frying their vegetables or throwing a load of cheese sauce over a perfectly decent chicken breast. It used to be very difficult to escape this culinary trick of theirs, but then, about a year ago, I was in Los Angeles, or rather I was in Irvine, Ca. in the Hyatt Regency (check out the side panel on the right of this blog and you'll find a post about it) and the food was fantastic. And by 'fantastic' I mean it was light, even the dessert!

Now, in Indianapolis, I've managed to enjoy decent food, mainly seafood, without getting a load of unhealthy rubbish as accompaniments. So, just now, I enjoyed some halibut with a couple of new potatoes and some green beans; yesterday I had trout fillets with kale; last night I had Alaska salmon with brocolli and jasmine rice, at lunch time I had Atlantic salmon with vegetables and asparagus and I've managed to avoid eating red meat. In fact, today, somebody I met at the Indiana Convention Centre told me that the Americans inject growth hormones into their beef and it should be avoided at all costs. Fortunately, the very idea of a burger is completely off my radar at the moment and I've found myself relying entirely on seafood and fish (today I had a rather retro prawn cocktail, although it was called something else, probably a shrimp cocktail, and it was served on a bed of ice).

Since Sunday, my colleague and I have been eating together, apart from on Sunday evening when I crashed early as a result of jet lag and today he wasn't feeling too good so I ate alone in the Capital Grille attached to the Conrad Hotel. I had the prawn, sorry, 'shrimp', cocktail followed by the halibut and a glass of red wine and then I headed back to my hotel on the outskirts of the city and was advised, once again, by a taxi driver. not to venture out on foot. He told me that where there are poor people there are drugs and where there are drugs there are gangs. He said he'd never pick anybody up from this part of town so I've been warned. Once again, he said it was fine downtown, but that on the outskirts of town it was dodgy. Very dodgy.

Getting back to food and drink, while I haven't over done things, I have been enjoying a couple glasses of Cabernet with every meal, which has been very pleasant, but when I return home I'll be giving it a long rest.

For more details on McCormick & Schmick's, click here.

Recovered from the jet lag and feeling myself again...

It's amazing how jet lag can make me feel down and depressed, but equally amazing how, once cured, I'm back to my normal self again. After retiring at 7pm last night and hitting the sack, missing dinner in the process, I awoke this morning a different person. Washed and dressed by 7am I'd finished breakfast by 7.30am and was sitting with Sam, the taxi driver, riding along East Washington towards downtown. All was good with the world, I was happy with the hotel – based on the fact that to stay in town would have cost me considerably more than the additional money I have to fork out on cabs (my hotel is just $70 per night (or thereabouts) and it's fine. Today for breakfast I had my usual Rice Krispies and this time I found some teabags (they did have tea, despite me thinking they didn't yesterday). Having missed dinner, I had two slices of toast, a yoghurt and an apple.

Lunch time, downtown Indianapolis – but hardly any cars on the road.

It was a good day's work too and I was pleased to see that Crystal Palace held Liverpool to a 3-3 draw, despite the fact that the scousers had been 3-0 up earlier in the match. Palace has been brilliant of late, even beating Chelsea a few weeks ago, much to a colleague of mine's dismay. I still find it odd that they're in the Premiership, but they are, which is good for a Croydon club – or rather Croydon's only club. Croydon, technically, is not my home town. I'm from Sutton, which is about six miles west of Croydon, so I should be supporting Sutton United, but now that I live in the Croydon area, perhaps I ought to start supporting Palace.

Indianapolis is buzzing more than it has been over the weekend, thanks to the convention – or make that conventions; there's some kind of knitting event going on as well as a wire show, plus the convention I'm attending, but the traffic hasn't really picked up even if there are more people around town, including the 'hungry and homeless' – who look surprisingly young and sprightly – and a few of those 'statue' people you often find in places like Covent Garden in London.

What's happening in the news?
 My hotel, while low cost (which can only be a good thing) is seemingly getting better by the day. This morning I discovered complimentary copies of USA Today in which I found the following:-

• Health care spending in the USA has risen at the fastest pace since 1980, thanks to new health insurance laws, which have prompted many more Americans to visit doctors and hospitals.

• A poll shows that Republicans have gained a great deal of popularity of late. A nationwide USA Today/Pew Research Center Poll shows the strongest tilt towards Republican candidates at this point in a mid-term year.

• Nine people have been seriously injured in a high wire circus act. During some kind of aerial stunt, at least nine performers were injured when a metal frame they were hanging from 'tore loose from a metal truss'. Eight women fell between 25 and 40 feet, landing on a dancer on the ground.

American television...

Before hitting the sack I switched on the box, something I don't often do while away, and flicked through the channels. There are so many channels and so many chat shows too. I watched a bit of Letterman – an actress promoting her movie told of how she likes eating clay – and then found two or three other chat shows, all with guests I didn't know. The movie Carousel was on another channel and I watched a few moments of it before getting bored, switching off and falling asleep.