Big Swifty unlikely to make GB Olympics cycling team in 2012

GB top athlete distracted by real life in 2011

Followers will be disappointed to know I am unlikely to be selected for the GB cycling team at the Olympics, just down the road in six months time. There are several reasons for this, what with me being untalented, unfit, overweight and too old; but my training hasn't kept with the programme. I've been busy with real life; indeed I've been so busy I haven't even Big Swifty blogged for a few months. So here's a summary of 2011, for anyone else who's in danger of Olympic selection, and would like to follow my training programme, thereby getting a ticket to watch the sport from the sofa:

Familiar readers of Big Swifty will know that diabetes dominates our life, as we have a five year old who is a Type 1 diabetic. The disease does not define us, but it has to be our priority, and takes up a large chunk of our time, energy and brain power. Our 2011 began with a trip to Addenbrooke’s Hospital in Cambridge, to make the acquaintance of the new member of our little family: Lucky, the insulin pump.  After some training, we were let loose with the real thing, live and pumping insulin, and within a day our spirits felt lighter. It was Frank that was convinced that he wanted a pump and he has never once wavered from this.  We are very proud of our brave boy, who deals with the constant invasive world of the Type 1 Diabetic with a huge amount of grace and courage.

Homeschooling continues well for us and we are looking forward to more fun times ahead.  Our style of homeschooling comes under the “unschooling” umbrella, which means we follow Frank’s interests and thus the world is our classroom!  We can find ourselves drawing dinosaurs and reading about them one day, and then rowing on the river pretending to be Ratty and Mole from “The Wind in the Willows” the next.  We meet up regularly with other homeschooling families and have been enjoying a variety of activities this year, at people’s homes, in village halls, museums, forest schools, and at Colchester’s magnificent new gallery “Firstsite”. Next year will see more crafting, science, dinosaurs, Lego, art and music, plus anything else that takes our fancy.

Travel this year for Big Swifty included a very damp and windy time in NW Scotland solo poetry tour/ cycle camping, and a week in Denmark with Tom.  As a family we spent a fairly disastrous, wet and windy few days in the Cotswolds (with Families with Diabetes), followed later in the spring by a cold, wet and windy week on our own, camping in Devon, which at least ended well as we managed to catch some relatives on the way home.   We fully banished the damp cold ghosts of the far west in September, with a fantastic trip to the east, to the warm and sunny Netherlands. We stayed with friends in the historic town of Alkmaar, and shared a fabulous central apartment above a toy shop and children’s bookshop, next to a Flemish chip shop, and just round the corner from a chocolate cafe!

Big Swifty's been working for Colchester Travel Plan Club, with enough subscriptions coming in, and funding awards won, to keep the show on the road. And the spoken-word stand-up “Fred Slattern, Colchester’s Slum Poet”, has gone well with a wide range of gigs, including one in the Scottish highlands, where Fred claims that “I’m a legend in Gairloch”.

Our voluntary work continues with leading a local support group for parents of children with Type 1 Diabetes “Colchester Circle-D”.   We now have about 60 members, including adults with Type 1 in the group as well. A highlight was our appearance in the Colchester Carnival, where about 10,000 people saw our message. Our fundraising for JDRF, through Planet Frank , has gone well. We were also played a small part in Walk Colchester’s “Jane’s Walk” festival, appearing at some events at Colchester Slack Space arts venue, taking part in Colchester Street Festival (where Fred read a mercifully short poem to the Mayor), and in the Kidstival at Colchester Free Festival.

So, between all this lovely fun, education, caring, work and homemaking, and the number of hours there are in a year, there has been little training for the Olympics. I've cycled only 1400 miles this year, 1300 of them into a headwind and uphill, I believe.

And next year?  We have plans for the house and garden to help us be more self-sufficient; we made a good start this autumn, with a chainsaw, new shed and wood burning stove. All limbs still present, but eyebrows burnt off. And now we're thinking about what else we'll do next year, as I haven't had the call from the Olympics selectors. Whatever we do, and wherever we go, we try to enjoy the ride.

at Facebook      “andrew stanley budd”     “fred slattern”   "colchester circle d”

The pleasures and sorrows of work

"I like work, I can sit and watch it all day" said Jerome K Jerome. Yeah, but somebody's got to do it.

I was paying attention at school in a physics lesson when I learned that  "work = force x distance", and the careers advice I had was that if you can avoid real work, you'll earn more and have a comfier life.  Vincent Van Gogh may have celebrated the labouring classes, but he didn't actually do the physical work that he so admired in others, however splendidly he recorded it.

So what's all this got to do with Big Swifty? It has all been a bit frantic recently, hence my relative silence on here. My best paid job is very busy, and so is my second best paid job. But I've had a week's holiday in Denmark with my older son, so work got even further behind. Plus at home we've taken on far too much in the house and garden with our urban homesteading, and all the activities we have with the diabetes support group, stand-up spoken word, carnival float, fundraising and food and drink. Oh yes, "work is the curse of the drinking classes" said Oscar Wilde.

My second biggest earning job is working, on piece work, for the local authority, delivering information to households about the electoral register and about waste collection and re-cycling. A basic delivery job, with some admin and intelligence gathering on the round. A job that is useful, and that I understand, and is "task and finish", unlike many aspects of modern life. I find it satisfying, doing the job during the different seasons, observing the changes in nature. Most of the task is in suburbia, but I also cover a couple of sprawling rural parishes, with villages, hamlets and isolated houses.

At one of the latter I was greeted by the middle-aged resident with the suggestion "So they force you to deliver these cards on a bicycle?". "No", I explained, "I choose to use a bicycle; I like the fresh air and the exercise, and it's the most efficient way to do the job", me sounding like the pompous bicycle nerd that I am. He responded with "What's on these cards anyway?" I explained about the new rubbish collection arrangements, and was given a look that suggested he felt that my job was the most degrading and demeaning task imaginable. "Well that's a waste of time and effort, sending you out here to do this" he said. Clearly he didn't value the task.

It got me thinking about "the pleasures and sorrows of work", which is also the title of a recent volume of the philosophy of Alain de Botton. It makes me laugh, to think of skinny pasty Alain, being an authority on work; I imagine his delicate hands would be ripped to shreds by a day on a shovel. I love my delivery job, and feel sorry that some people are unable to acknowledge the pleasure in such a task. Most other people I met seemed to enjoy my quick visit, as I gave service with a smile and a happy heart.

I've been to Jimmy Page's house

It has been my pleasure, for the last few days, to be paid to do my hobby. Usually it's part of my job to talk about walking, but this time I was paid to actually do it. Not only do I get some exercise, but it's also something useful - I am delivering poll cards for the local elections on May 5th. I have been working on a large housing estate in the suburbs, and in some rural villages and hamlets in the countryside, both pleasant places to crunch the gravel on their drives. OK, it's only around minimum wage, but the compensation is lots of movement, sun and fresh air, plus I get to see the homes of famous people.

Yes, I've been delivering to dozens of well known names, including Oliver Read (needs no introduction), Paul Lambert (Celtic and Scotland footballer, and now Norwich manager), Shirley Williams and Margaret Hodge (politicians), Ian Brown, Mark Smith and Jimmy Page (musicians), Lynne Davies (Welsh athlete), Steve Ball (ex-Colchester United footballer), Russell Grant (TV personality and astrologer), and many more famous names I can't remember. (Yes, I know the spellings aren't all quite like we would expect, but I guess they are trying to preserve their privacy.)

As far as I know, the poll cards I've delivered are to "Not Famous" people, just people with famous names. I remember a guy I worked with around 1980; he was a Site Engineer called Simon le Bon. It was an unusual name, that I'm sure he had to spell out for others several times a week. Then along come Duran Duran, and Simon didn't have to spell it out any more, but he had to suffer the same old "not the actual Simon le Bon" conversations every time he met someone new. 

Sorry that this post is a bit of a celebration of celebrity culture, even if it's the "Not Famous" people that I'm celebrating.

But one of these "Not Famous" people really was the famous one, and here's the evidence. Peeping through Jimmy Page's letter box, I could see a "whole lotta gloves".

Not very "stormy monday blues"

All is peace at Budd Towers, but we're maybe sitting at the eye of a storm. It has been a Big Month for us all.

Foremost in our minds has been Frank's insulin pump. We have now had two training sessions at Addenbrooke's Hospital at Cambridge. During the first week we all took turns wearing the pump, pumping saline into ourselves, making me even more of a salty old dog. Last week we started pumping insulin into Frank, and it's going well, but we have lots to learn about the kit, and how to use it. The main reason for getting the pump is to help the three of us better manage Frank's blood sugar, thereby (we hope) avoiding complications later in life. From Frank's immediate point of view, he is so happy not to have four injections a day, especially the morning stinger (the slow acting Lantus insulin), although he has more fingerprick blood tests than before, has to wear the pump 24/7 and has to have a "site change" (new plumbing into his body) every three days. Right now we are "tweaking his basals", which means we are trying to establish what are the best background insulin levels to suit his body. We should be testing him every two hours, round the clock, to get more data on how his body is reacting. Hence we feel like a couple of knackered rusty old cars.

And another thing. I've been given a redundancy notice from my employer in respect of my main earner job. The money runs out on 31 March, unless some more comes in before then. At the Colchester2020 Travel Plan Club, we have a couple of bids for external funding, and some unpaid subs from the past, so the job might continue.........

Otherwise it's basking in the sun, sitting on the bench in Castle Park, supping Special Brew, which sounds a good option too. And if it's raining, I can sleep in T-Bone Walker's car.

Despite it all, we are calm. We will get by OK whatever happens. And there's always stuff on the horizon. There haven't been many blogs here recently, as we've been busy fundraising for the JDRF (Juvenile Diabetes Research Fund). There are several new pages on this blog - just click onto the tabs above.

And I'm very excited about my new adventure as a stand-up poet. My Fred Slattern act is hitting the road in May, touring the north-west Scottish Highlands by bicycle, and giving short recitals en route. Regular visitors to Big Swifty will be getting updates over the next few weeks. And join me on Facebook "Andrew Stanley Budd" and "Fred Slattern".

Some days are more interesting than others.

With some jobs, you pretty well know what you'll be doing today, next week, next month and next year. And I guess road liners come into that category. I felt so happy for the guy who did this. There he was anticipating another week shuffling along the gutter, mile after mile of straight lines, and he gets sent here. Lovely curving shapes round the traffic calming, an opportunity to show a bit more flair in his work. I hope he enjoyed laying the lines as much as I admired looking at his efforts. Bridget Riley, eat your heart out.

All the news, for £1?

Some of my regulars may be thinking it's all gone quiet over here? So here's an update. Since my last blog about my fantastic musical evening out, I've been contacted by three of the four musicians, who all seemed glad I enjoyed their music so much. I once wrote about REM at Ipswich football ground, and Michael Stipe never bothered to get in touch. Meanwhile Colchester United have gone five games, with only two draws and three defeats - hardly promotion form. It is believed that the players are still earning small fortunes every week.

And talking about fortunes, today I hear that the Independent newspaper has been sold for £1 to a Russian. The last time I bought a copy it costed me over a pound for a single copy, and he's bought the whole company for less. Surely they might have got a bit more on e-bay?

I have been very busy at work, promoting national Walk to Work Week in Colchester. I'm trying to use newer media, and have been busy with another blog http://www.colchesterwalktowork.blogspot.com/ with 28 postings recently, so at the moment I don't have as much appetite to spend even more time here. Pop in and have a look at what I've been scheming, and do please join our facebook group "colchester walk to work". It's all about reducing traffic congestion, achieving smaller carbon footprints, and tackling the obesity epidemic (blush!).

We have picnics, a new map, talks, lots of different walking events and a photography competition. If any of you are Bench Monday participants (example above), send me your pictures and I'll use them on my walking site. Stroll on. Thanks.

Big Swifty meets top politician, and other aspects of the free market economy

It's not often I meet people from the top of the league. Last night, in my capacity as a small, nay micro, businessman (see http://www.bigswiftycompany.blogspot.com/) I attended a Question Time session where a panel mainly of local politicians and prospective MPs answered questions from the floor. After the session North Essex MP Bernard Jenkin came over to me, shook my hand, and said "hello again Andrew, how are you?". In my earlier working life as a local Transport Policy person I had met the Honourable Mr Jenkin a couple of times, a good few years ago; he was Shadow Secretary of State for Transport at the time. I was surprised he recognised and remembered me, but I suspect it was because earlier that evening he read my lapel badge or saw me on the guest list, and was exercising a good schmoozing technique.

And why is he the top of the league politician? In October 2009, as a result of the initial recommendations of Sir Thomas Legg's audit following the disclosure of expenses, Legg recommended that Jenkin pay back over £63,000 - the highest amount to have been requested from any Member of Parliament. Mr Jenkin has made representations to Sir Thomas Legg's inquiry and his repayment has recently been halved, knocking him off the top of the expenses repayment league.

I'm very angry about this whole issue, and I apologise to any of my followers in that I didn't take the opportunity to give him, our (the public's) views on his personal use of public money. As always, Jenkin was totally charming, and urged me to cycle home carefully as the roads were icy.

Meanwhile, I was enjoying the spectacle of the business community requesting reduced business rates and less regulations, whilst requesting restrictive practices and special concessions to give local businesses council contracts even if it costs us taxpayers more, which is a funny kind of "get-the-government-off-our-backs free-market economy".

I felt like I'd slipped back thirty years some of the time, with the floor's clamour for colleges to produce less hairdressers, comments about foreigners, the poor quality of the young people wanting jobs today, the benefits culture, and the FSB host addressing the audience collectively as "gentlemen", even though there were, gasp, about 15% women there.

With my liberal attitudes, I felt like the ugly duckling amidst these swans of industry.

Judgement of Lord Hanningfield, and the end of the Essex Way

It's not every year that I've personally met someone in the national news. I had many years in local government, and hugely enjoyed meeting a very wide range of people. I wouldn't usually come on here passing comments about them, but today's blog is about the former Leader of Essex County Council, born Paul White, but usually referred to as Lord Hanningfield.

As Leader he has to look at his role and responsibilities, weigh up different priorities, make some tough judgements, and implement courses of actions. A tricky balancing act, and over the years I have stoutly defended our elected representatives for what they are doing.

It has been a great pleasure serving our councillors and the public (from different parts of the political spectrum, and all tiers of society - if we are allowed to admit they exist), and I am proud that I have done my best to serve them fairly, without fear or favour. And one of my customers was Lord Hanningfield.

He's the man who has made judgements that affect my life, so I am going to step outside my usual bounds of decorum, and pass judgement on this individual. In all the years I have worked with thousands of people, my opinion is that he is the most pompous and arrogant person I have ever dealt with.

He's in the news now, charged under the Theft Act in connection with his expenses, one of four parliamentarians up before the judge, following the long running MP's expenses row that has brought shame to our parliament. Now I appreciate he's innocent until proved guilty, regarding overnight hotel bills in London for evenings when he was driven back to his home in Essex by his chauffeur; but I can't help but think the Crown Prosecution Service has been very carefully looking at the evidence before deciding to pursue the case, knowing the high public profile of the individual accused, the national sensitivity of the whole issue, and, dare I say it, the power, influence, contacts and resources available to a person like Lord Hanningfield.

In paralell with Hanningfield's work as leader of Essex County Council, I've been busying myself walking the footpaths of the Essex Way. Starting from Harwich (picture above) I've been walking with Jules and Valerie, and we are now approaching the very outer reaches of London. We've a fair few miles to go before we finish the Essex Way. But at Essex County Council, Hanningfield has resigned as Leader, and has stood down from his frontbench duites at the House of Lords. The conservatives have suspended him from the parliamentary party. The end of his Essex Way, at least for the time being.

Disclaimer. All facts taken from BBC http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk_politics/8499590.stm My opinion is my own.

Bread and shoes

Strolling into Colchester yesterday we were surprised to see a Flour Power bakers stall in Culver Street, ON A SUNDAY! After a few years of limited public support for Sunday trading, it seems to be taking off. Many years ago I was a supporter of the Keep Sunday Special campaign, but accept that times have changed. But what about this wonderful bread stall? We bought a large sourdough loaf costing £3.50, lugged it home and cut it in half, one for the freezer, the other for this morning. And today we enjoyed the crunchiest noisiest tastiest toast one can imagine.

We were speculating on what people think about paying £3.50 for a loaf of the finest bread. After all you can buy Mother's Blotting Paper, thin sliced, for 25p in AlNetLid. Alternatively you can get squares of cardboard free, and improve your nutrition. It's a bit of a class thing I suppose. I'm quite happy to pay £3.50 for something tasty, others pay £80-120 for the latest leisure shoes, and throw them away if they get a mark on them.

But I'm not complaining; it's my usual Big Swifty response that it's different strokes for different folks. And I benefit from the fashion industry's demand for a new shoe range every season. I get last year's £80 Nike Air Pegasus running trainer for about half price, and I save a fortune on walking boots. I bought a pair of Karrimor walking boots last week reduced from £72 to £16, and mighty fine they are too. They are modelled above, and the photo is also a "Bench Monday" picture, for those who follow such things.

As part of my work I am promoting walking as transport; any Facebookers out there are welcome to join my "Colchester walk to work" facebook group. It was a bit icy for cycling this morning so I walked into town, following a wonderful route across a string of public open spaces, local nature reserves, ancient monuments and rights of way. My favourite section was the Lexden Dyke, part of the Romano/British network of dykes that protect Colchester from the west. (This was in the old days, 2000 years ago, when people from Bishop's Stortford were unfriendly to the people of Colchester. We get on fine now our football teams are in entirely different leagues.) Even now, the bank and ditch are about five metres high in places. Can you see me waving at my shadow in the ditch, photographing from the top of the bank?

Look at me with my cheap boots and belly full of sourdough. (Currently listening to Frank Zappa's Sinister Footwear.)

Pitch inspection, and the meeting's off

An early start today, as I had a meeting at the football ground at 8:30. It's only six miles away by bike, but with a head (north) wind and snow fallen overnight, I left home at 7:40 so I could walk part of the way if necessary. Cycling very gingerly, I arrived five minutes early, and alone. A minor glacier had formed on my lights and helmet, and I needed Elton John's windscreen wiper glasses to see where I was going. Checking my mobile at the stadium I heard that the meeting had been cancelled fifteen minutes after I left home. They had contacted me, but there was no way I would hear or feel my phone through all my layers of bags, clothing and hats. Cycling back to the office, I was uplifted by the courtesy and care being exercised by all the road users, a change from the sometimes rat-race we have to suffer.

Cycling home was a different story. The morning's relatively safe fresh snow on clear road, had changed to the evening's treacherous compacted, rutted snow, slush and ice. I walked one third of the way, cycled very slowly on the cycle track for another third, and steadily rode on the main road.

Carefully I tiptoed across roads covered with "sheet" ice, so named because that is what you scream, as your wheel slips from under you. And we've another four days of sub-zero temperatures and more snow every day. Time to put the bike away, and walk, methinks.

Nine blokes talking rubbish

Big Swifty (left) says to Alan (right) "this is probably the last time all of us will be in the same room together"
Alan says "what do you know then?"
BJ (centre) says "I like it when a plan comes together"
Meanwhile Peter (left) roars with laughter, as Brian (right) exclaims "chin see how", which is "lovely day" in a chinese language.

Chris (left) talks to Frank (right) about his underwater diving, and Frank says "I didn't know you had a daughter, Ivy"

John (left) tells us about his next big trip, and the state of geriatric care in Colchester Hospital, and David (right), chuckles with Big Swifty, that it has all come to this, after our shared working lives at Colchester Borough Council. Nine old blokes talking rubbish, in "The Foresters" pub, every first Tuesday in the month. And a newsletter from Rod in Scotland, the tenth man, as our absent friend.

A good turn out this week, and, as usual, there's several missing out of the potential crowd of about fifteen. There's some mileage still left in us, as we make the most of our lives after our main careers have finished. I don't suppose this particular group of nine will ever be together in The Foresters again; we've all got plenty of other places to be. Cheers, everyone, probably see you in January.

Big Swifty comes out at work

Big Swifty hasn't posted much about work. I don't think it's appropriate to use blogs to criticise one's colleagues or employers. Firstly, there's a proper process to air any grievances about work. Secondly, I don't have any grievances; I like my employers, as an organisation and as individuals, and I enjoy the company of my colleagues. Sorry, if you were hoping for some salacious gossip or nasty comments, but I like these people.

Having read various american facebook friends' tales of thanksgiving, and pumpkin pie, and yearning because we in the UK don't celebrate this festival, I was so pleased today to be offered home-made pumpkin pie by Laura, long based in Essex, but a native of Pasadena, Californ-eye-ay. Anxious to record the miniutiae and ephemera of life, I whipped out my camera, and created a minor commotion in our open plan office.

At this stage I was forced to come out about my blogging, admitting my shame, and hoping for understanding. So, colleagues, welcome to Big Swifty's pages. Feel free to comment, but remember, I know where you sit.

After 31 years, it's time to move on

We've been busy clearing things out, making more room in our house for Frank and our lodger. And today I found my Geology Field Book last used before graduation in 1978. Why have I kept it so long? Firstly, I didn't know I still had it. Secondly, I'm a terrible hoarder. And I've looked at my fieldbook again, with my terrible drawings of rocks and minerals, all looking like formless dumplings, woolly sheep or children's scribble. Cezanne said everything can be reduced to cubes, spheres and cones - well he never tried to draw a rock sample in a science lab.

My journal has stereo photographs of landslips, with my attempts to annotate the physical features. Having studied these carefully I came to the conclusion that another landslip is likely to happen nearby, at some time in the future. I've managed to bring up a family, have a career, and cycled Land's End to John o'Groats, since I Iast opened its pages, and I can't see any circumstances where I'll need it in the next 31 years either. I've thrown it away right now, rather than keep it until I'm 85. OK, I admit it, I had one more last look.

Stacey Minshull is not my best friend

In a brief break from work yesterday, I chatted with Stacey, who works in the same building as me. Up to a few months ago she was just a friendly face I saw around the office occasionaly. Then I discovered Facebook, and we became "friends", using my own criteria, a) that I must have met the person in real life, and b) I must actually like them. (These are my criteria. I don't know what selection process Stacey has, but if she'll accept me....)

And now we've got to know each other a little, reading snippets about each other's lives, families, cooking, holidays and music. And about our passions - cake and Joni Mitchell.

There's no substitute for a real life, face to face meeting with your best friends, or a phone call, but Facebook is a fabulous way to keep in touch with our second and third division friends.

And I'm glad to have found more friends as a result of Facebook. People like Stacey, who were merely acquaintances, have moved from the wilderness of non-league outsiders, to the higher level of second and third tier friends. Does this imply a ranking of friends? Am I her Darlington, and is she my Accrington Stanley? It doesn't really matter, we've both slightly improved our lives as a result of our facebook friendship, and that's cool. And there's always the possibility of promotion for the lower teams. And cakes.

£6 below the minimum wage

Lady Scotland may have hit the headlines recently for allegedly employing an illegal immigrant and paying slightly less than the minimum wage. Well she has nothing on me. I have new staff starting in a couple of weeks, and she has no contract and no pay at all. Severine de France is pictured above at her interview, where she agreed to work for nothing, do all the cooking and cleaning, and look after Frank. She also promised not to tease Big Swifty, or make rude comments about his record collection.

Today we had lots of fun sorting out some space for her. She would go under the stairs, but Harry Potter's already there.

Bicycle powered smoothie maker - is it work as we know it?

Whilst in charge of the blendavenda this week, an old friend of mine, Mr Paul Bradford, randomly turned up. We exchanged pleasantries and insults, as he looked at the exhibition on transport options to North Colchester Business Parks. I was employed as local transport expert, especially on foot or by bike, and was providing free smoothies as an ice breaker for passers-by who may have otherwise been a little shy to engage with us friendly folk. The lovely Paul asked if I was being paid for this work, implying that this is not a proper job. (This from a man who earns his living by drawing lines on paper, and putting numbers into tables.)

And it got me thinking about my job, and what I do. What is my job, over and above the usual "good husband/ father/son/friend" roles? I'm pretty comfortable with my task to help people change their travel habits, reduce their carbon footprints, improve their health, and reduce congestion, fumes and noise. If that sometimes involves looking like a clown on a pedal powered contraption, serving up mashed fresh fruit, that's cool with me. But my paid employment part-time with Colchester2020 is only an aspect of my "job". I also do a bit of freelance work.

But I have another important job. I am also Frank's pancreas, an urgent practical task for the here and now, contrasting with the sometimes longer term environmental policy work that pays my wages. I'll leave it for others to judge what is the most important, and which is the most effective work.