Every eye looking every other way......

First get this straight. My body is totally capable of getting up tomorrow morning and riding 117 miles on a bicycle from Somerton to Lulworth and back. It's also capable of getting up on Monday and riding to Dunkery Beacon and back. Good food, sudacreme, compression tights can all work their magic, and I've ridden the routes before, so they hold no fear. Even the weather can be beaten, well it's not the jungle or the Aspin in a downpour, is it?

My head however has said "no".

Overtraining is a funny thing. Sometimes it affects you physically, sometimes psychologically, a subset of which is probably one's motivation and joie de vivre. And taste buds, mine have just gone loopy today, nothing is tasting like it usually does. My overload is not particularly cycling related, although I have done about 300 miles more in 2011 than I had by this time last year. No, mine is caused by doing too much and never saying no. Or similar. It's too difficult for me.

So I am not riding the 2nd and 3rd day of this year's Tour of Wessex, I'm going to rest tomorrow, and spend time with my family on Monday. Of course this is all relative. In the time between arriving home and getting in the bath, about 20 minutes I would guess, I had written a list of 11 jobs to do on my "rest day", but as I'm doing the blog now it will be one less thing to get between the sofa and me. And some of them do involve the PC or the telephone, so that doesn't really count does it. And it is useful.

I rode fine today, the wind was awful, much windier than last year and a fine intermittent drizzle that feels horrible in combination with the wind. The route had changed from last year, mainly the first 15 miles towards Glastonbury, wiggled all over the place. In total it was a mile longer, and my total time was 3 minutes longer than 2010, although my cycling time was 5 minutes less. Too much faffing and gossiping at the feedstations. Given the conditions I'll take that, count it as a marginal gain.

The route of today was a clockwise circle (well frying pan actually) from Somerton to Glastonbury, Wedmore, up the gorge (I never tire of that phrase), down to Wells, up to Shepton, Evercreech, Bruton, King Alfred's Tower (despite doing the hill without stopping, my back wheel kept slipping which added an extra challenge), then over to just shy of Warminster, lots of Deverills, Meere, Stourhead, Castle Cary, back to Somerton.

It's a great route, I love the bit down past Clearwater Lake, a long descent, which was one of the few bits I did in company.

I rode pretty conservatively for most of the day, because my moment of surrender didn't come until about 80 miles in, after chatting to GB. Despite that I was very, very nearly wiped out in three separate incidents. Twice by cars (one cut in in front of me requiring sharp braking on my part, the other a man in Bruton pulled out of a junction as i was descending into the town and just didn't see me-he did have the grace to stop and apologise, and we parted friends). The really annoying one was descending Old Bristol Road into Wells, at about 40-45 mph, into the noisy wind, and a fellow participant cut in front of me just before the bend, with no warning.

Perhaps the time has come to say goodbye to the sportive and hello to the Audax, farewell to the Accelerade gel and hi to the packed lunch.

Skip and I exchanged a couple of texts after my decision too. We are off to do the Dragon ride next Sunday, and that was one of the principal reasons behind bailing out of tomorrow and Monday. For today I was pretty much on my own the whole way, either too fast or too slow for the groups, and my climbing was rubbish, fatigued. I seemed to collect a train of people behind me going into the wind on the exposed flats, only to see them all sail past me as the road pointed upwards.

Although I briefly chatted to the Father of Socialism, aka Astana Man, and bumped into the other GB at the last feedstop, there was no-one to talk to for the best part of seven hours. Solo sportives are not fun. So what point in tiring myself out when with a bit of R & R I can get my mojo back in time for a spin around South Wales in company next weekend? I've ticked of the Tour of Wessex 3-day, I really don't need to do it again, do I?

Skip suggested an easy recovery ride for tomorrow, and it was very, very tempting, but I resisted. But it was difficult. To say no that is.

Here are my stats, now in two formats:

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/88528829

http://ridewithgps.com/routes/439543

Nothing to do with cycling, but I had a hilarious e-mail from Scott Parker today. I think it went to all West Ham fans, although it did say "Dear Guy". Here is the quote that had me chuckling:

"Together in the new season, everyone starts with a clean slate and the club has the chance to make sure this new chapter in West Ham’s history is as exciting on the pitch as it will be off it.


All the lads will be doing their best to make that happen but as a team – players and fans together – is when you can most make things happen."

Somehow, I don't think you'll be among them Scott, do you?

I'm getting blown away

Do I have a downer on weather forecasters? Well, today the BBC online weather forecast was, unfortunately, spot on. Right. Correctamundo. Very, very uncool honey bunny. So fairly dry, a heavy rain shower at 4AM, leaving the roads quite wet for an early morning start. Followed by a strong south-south-westerly winds, strengthening like a hurricane, with very strong gusts just when I'm cycling through a wood. Before a lovely sunny evening with the winds easing down quietly as I stare from the sofa out to our garden.

Today was the Black Rat cycle challenge, the first of those sportives I mentioned on Friday. And not an original part of my cycling itinerary for 2011. It's a long story so plump up your cushions and prepared to be entertained. Last year I did the 100 mile sportive which consists of riding in a figure of eight (itself highly dubious) and incorporates any hill of consequence in North Somerset and the Mendips. East Harptree, the Gorge, Old Bristol Hill out of Wells, Burrington, Wrington (the hard way) and a few around Portishead and Failand for good measure.

They did give out a nice souvenir glass tankard, embossed with the Black Rat logo. It is a cider in case you didn't know. My son commandeered said tankard and was not chuffed when I broke it about two months ago. On a whim I e-mailed the organiser and asked if he had any left, and he kindly drove from Clevedon to my house to deliver two replacements. So I felt I ought to enter his sportive because at the time it was struggling to fill up.

Anyway, a ride is a ride as Not the Nine o'clock news nearly said, so I thought give it a go anyway. I entered the 100 mile again, which now had the added spice of Ebbor gorge instead of Old Bristol Road, making it even harder. And, here's the clever bit, I thought it was only about 8 miles to Backwell so decided to ride there and back. Bet you wish that I was smart like you? It's 12.5 miles. 25 mile round trip.

I also had a new top on though, and a new gilet, which did add a frisson of excitement. I was not feeling very energised by the whole idea of the sportive, tbh, and the new Northwave top did help alleviate that. Mrs Mendip Rouleur thought it looked like all my other kit. "It's just red white and black, like the rest".

 "No, no, no, no" as Thatcher or Paisley may have said, (actually the latter would have said [imagine accent] "never, never, never"), I told her straight. All my other tops are predominantly red, with a little bit of black and white, this one is black, with a little bit of white and red". Honestly, no sense of fashion. The gilet is black too in case you were wondering.

With the wind at my back, I mad good time to the HQ, and signed on, chatting to a few people I know, including two from last year's Bristol to Land's End trip. I was supposed to be meeting four people from work, but as the first group left, there was no sign of them, and I was getting cold. I waited for the second group to go, and then thought, "they can catch me up, they're younger than me". Sorry guys, I am too impatient.

So off I went, around Nailsea and the lanes around there for a bit, up Brockley Coombe, and then down towards Felton. There was supposed to be a diversion by the roadworks, but no signs indicated anything, so there followed a shaky descent on a road scraped of half of its tarmac. A couple of people got punctures, but I was lucky, and was glad of the nice smooth tarmac down into the Chew Valley.

Once we turned into the wind at Chew Magna, it was like going backwards, and I was actually pleased to get the chance to go up East Harptree hill, even though it is a toughie. I was also getting deja vu from last year. Because of the rapid frequency of the hills, no big groups were forming. It was interesting to overtake a lot of people on climbs, often the same ones who  had bombed past me on the flat. I think I am finding the up stuff a lot easier than 12 months ago.

That said, there were still loads of young types, with sinewy frames, and even more sinewy bodies, and I tried to hop on their wheels whenever I could.  Some of them are a bit crazy, or not local, or both. A couple overtook me near the funny roundabout at the bottom of Shipham Hill, you know the one where there are always accidents because no-one understands priorities.

Most of the time I was on my own though, and quite frankly I was getting bored. Bored with cycling on the same roads, bored with having no-one to listen to, bored with having no-one listen to my inane ramblings, and most of all, VERY, VERY, VERY, VERY, BORED WITH THE WIND.

By the time I reached the split point for the two routes, at the top of Cheddar gorge, I realised what lay ahead of me. I had done 47 miles at this point, 12 of them to get to the HQ. I had another 78 to do if I was doing the long route. And I quite fancied watching some of the Giro on Eurosport, it's shaping up as a really exciting race. Except for the fact that the Clenbuterol kid is going to win again.

So another 5 hours in the saddle, plus Ebbor gorge,  and most depressingly a few miles on the levels into what was becoming a gale-force wind. But if I did the short route....

Well, what would you do, if your mother asked you?

There were still a couple of tasty hills though. First it was down into the Chew Valley again, around Nempnett Thrubwell and up to Row of Ashes the steep way (have a look at the gradients in the link below!). Then came the two scary moments of the day. When riding in strong crosswinds cyclists often get blown across the road a bit when they pass a gate-opening in the hedge line. So I was used to this, but as I came down the A38 for half a mile to try and take the right turn for Wrington the wind was blowing me all over the place, never known anything like it. Worse than Exmoor Beast 2009.


http://ridewithgps.com/routes/428151



Over Wrington Hill (the steep one) and down into Goblin Coombe, and lots of leaves were flying off the trees in the wind. OK, not too bad. Then a few twigs. All right, just watch carefully. Then a branch. Not a big one, but still a bit unexpected.

Also a casualty of the wind were most of the signs in the last 10 miles. I just followed the crowd, except that there weren't many people about, so I made a best guess and came back in just under 100 km, about 61 miles. I spoke to the organiser later (the same man who delivered the mugs) and he said that wind had not been the only saboteur of the directions. A number of reports had come in of people ripping them down.  Probably short on direction in their life so needed the arrows.

I did the sportive in just over 4 hours, and I then had to make the 12.5 mile slog back home, into the wind, to bring me up to just over 85 miles for the day. If you look at the Garmin download you will see the contrast with the cycle in, when it had been less windy and I was taking it easy.

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/87249325

I apologise unreservedly for the spaghetti-like route that I rode today. I will do better in future.

I am getting some funny cramps tonight, from deep within my upper inner thigh muscles, never had them before. Any expert opinions would be gratefully received. I think today can serve as a useful training ride, but it has left me wondering about next week and the Tour of Wessex. May have to break a cardinal rule and take my ipod. Still at least I got a free bottle of cider today, which I can drink while I watch the Giro...

So lost inside your head

I can't believe it's nearly mid-summer, well only a month until the longest day of the year anyway. This morning, as I left to go to work on my bike, it was a typical Spring morning. Nice and sunny a bit misty, birds chirping, deer running alongside me in the field. I was on the road, the deer was in the field.

I expect a bit of chill first thing in the morning, it's nice, a bit of an edge to start the day. But even though the temperature rose during the day, it turned out to be quite a cold day in the sun. On the way home there was a ferocious headwind as well, and I had to put my morning layers back on, and I was still cold.

http://ridewithgps.com/routes/425050

It's been manic at work so I had a lot of thoughts whirling away in my head. And the wind doesn't really help instill the stillness that cycling often gives me. I miss that. It seems like May has been one headwind after another.

I did my best to take it easy today, just a short hill up out of Wrington on the way in, and mainly flat on the way back. For I have somehow managed to enter lots of events in the next six weeks. In fact I have a sportive every weekend bar one until the end of June, and Bristol's Big bike ride on the bar one. And if I ride into Bristol and back that will make it of sportive distance too.

And they are not small sportives either, well one is, my charity ride is relatively easy. I may eat those words in a few weeks. All the others are frighteningly difficult and challenging. Fate-consider yourself un-tempted.

As predicted the R word finally happened. They say it's not despair that gets you, it's the hope. At half time last week all the results were going for us, and I foolishly started to believe, because I wanted to believe. Despite 40 years of evidence to the contrary I just wanted everything to be all right.

Thanks to everyone who has sponsored me so far. A pound of your money would still be gratefully received, I hope to raise 100 from 100 people but just like the weather it has not turned out as I expected. All contributions gratefully received. Many thanks.

http://www.justgiving.com/mendiprouleur

You've broken every code

A Sunday ride with Skip, and because both of us had been hitting the hills recently, we decided to do a flat easy run out to the south-west, to a cafe we hadn't been to before. More on that later.

Of course because it was flat and exposed, and all the hedges had been pollarded or removed, it was predictably windy, mainly from the west. But the route tacked and swerved around those peculiar right angles you get in rural areas, and we did our best to cover the ground as quickly as we could. By and large we succeeded with a healthy 16 mph + average for this route:

http://ridewithgps.com/users/30887

I can't give you precise statistics because Charlie packed up half way round, it's something to do with having pre-programmed routes but we got where we planned to and didn't get lost.

Yesterday was "Black Armband Saturday" in memory or Wouter Weylandt and all those who have died on a bike in the last year. I hope it catches on as an annual thing, 100 people a year in the UK alone die on the bike, so we need events like that to raise consciousness of the facts. Move us all away from the opinionated hysteria and into constructive territory. Although a day late, Skip and I decided to honour the principle and wear black armbands.

Given that I have few items of kit without black sleeves, it limited my choices a bit, and factor in the wind and mild temperature, and the need to test out some new items of kit, all this contrived a situation where every single article of clothing was from a different manufacturer, but still colour co-ordinated.

So the Hilltop cafe in Pawlett. I don't think it will be winning the Cafe of the Year competition. I was attracted to it by its name, given that it is about 50 feet above sea level, means either someone has a sense of irony, or they take that slight bump in the landscape very seriously on the Somerset levels. The cafe is right next to the A38 halfway between Bridgwater and Highbridge. It is somewhat traditional.

Walking in, I was struck by the resemblance, in look and feel, to a cafe I used to go to when I worked in London, and I detected traces in the accent of the bloke running it. All the tables were laid out on a grid pattern, a bit like desks in an old-fashioned school. As I ordered my bacon sandwich, I noticed a sign on the counter that said customers were not allowed to "mix and match" from the set menu, unless you were prepared to pay extra.

I wasn't asked how I wanted my sandwich, brown or white bread, but I wasn't fussed really. We sat down and started to chat, and i noticed another sign, telling customers they were forbidden from having meetings, because it took up table space and valuable car parking places. Reader, you will not be surprised to know that this cafe was not over-brimming with customers, and the car park had our two bikes, the tandem of the only other paying customers, and a rusty tractor that looked like it had sen better days.

Another sign. "No chips served before 12". And another, " children's portions only for children aged 14 or younger". Do you need a birth certificate? By now this Fawltyesque atmosphere was beginning to make me smile. Probably not what was intended, and I can't see the approach catching on in modern customer service circles. Does this man actually want to be running a cafe?

When my eyes caught sight of the next sign "Anyone consuming their own food on these premises will be shot" (I promise it said this, I am not making it up, there was a picture of a gun too, just in case you couldn't read) I started to laugh. Then a twinge of anxiety. I'd brought my water bottle in with me, had I sipped any?

Paying a visit to the loo before we left, these were outside in an outhouse by the way, and of course there was sign saying they were for paying customers only, I realised they wouldn't be winning prizes for cleanliness either. Now I can't imagine you would go there if you were not going to the cafe, there is nothing there that would drag you to drive there, but be warned, there is also a sign saying they will clamp your car if you park in the car park and don't visit the cafe.

You couldn't make it up, maybe it was one of those TV reality shows where they film your reaction.

Couldn't let today go by without mentioning the R word again. A series of very, very fortunate events would have to happen to save us now. West Ham that is. I only hope that our spineless and clueless owners see fit to appoint this man as our manager. If not the famous Derry son, Martin O'Neill, then it just has to be Mad Dog himself. Step forward martin Allen, your club needs youoooooooooooo.

My usual excuses

A regular Friday with a trip to work. Like all the riding I'm doing my best to vary the route because it does get tedious turning over the same roads time after time.

So this morning, and a wonderful sunny, misty Spring one it was too, I headed up through Congresbury, A370 and then turned off at Flax Bourton and up Belmont Hill, through Failand and down across the suspension (and best) bridge (in the world), down through Clifton and into work.

For the way back I took on the Alpe d'Huez of Bristol, or Dundry Hill the steep way, on the main road towards Chew valley. Whilst there are only four hairpin(ish) bends on it, I bet it's far steeper, it peaks at about 18.5% according to Charlie, and is pretty much never below 12% for about a mile. Rubbish comparison, but then there are probably few Citroen Saxos on Alpe d'Huez either, which generally makes cycling harder.

From there I headed through Chew Stoke and then wiggled past Nempnett and Butcombe, Blagdon, and Churchill, before climbing over the Mendips through Rowberrow and Shipham.

By the time I got home I was pretty tired for despite my best endeavours I hadn't really eaten enough in the afternoon and was exhausted. My speed on the way in had been pretty healthy, but it's really difficult to pick up speed in those narrow lanes round Butcombe, gravel on the descents, blind corners, and there was nasty headwind most of the time. OK I admit it, I'm trying to explain away a rubbish performance. But I'm sure the climbing practice will help towards my great leap forwards.

http://ridewithgps.com/routes/413034



If you have managed to read this far, I'd like to ask you to sponsor me. I know you get loads of requests but this one is quite small. All I want is for a one pound donation. One of my rides in June is a charity one for the same oncology centre in Bristol that I raised money for last year. I'm doing a 100 mile ride, with 100 people so I thought if 100 people sponsored me 1 pound each that would mean a lot of people gave a little.

The link is here, and at the top of the blog. http://www.justgiving.com/mendiprouleur

Skip and I are out on Sunday, doing a flat and fast ride to the south west. We are going to a new cafe too, I bet Mark Cavendish doesn't have to worry about these sorts of things. Actually I was over his house last weekend. No, not a grammatical error, I was looking down on the Isle of Man, though a cloudless sky from 30,000 feet in an Easyjet plane. Looked pretty flat from there, no wonder he's a rubbish climber. Bet he's moaning now about the gravel, the wind, blind corners........

When you get up in the morning and you see that crazy sun

I rode to work today, it was sunny in the morning and raining in the evening, the route is below.

http://ridewithgps.com/routes/407951

When I die I hope you will keep me in your heart, and I hope today, and for a while, you can do the same for Wouter Weylandt, killed yesterday in the Giro. I really hope he's in a better place now.

A teenage dream so hard to beat

Oh where to begin? Actually, those where the opening words of the Best Man at the wedding I went to yesterday, as well as summing up all the thought whirling round my head right now. Unlike him, I'm going to start in the middle.

12.50AM. Yes AM, in the morning, with darkness outside, but music and jollity inside. Mrs Mendip Rouleur and I were the last "men" standing from her side of the extended family. On the dance floor surrounded by people young enough to be our children probably. The Undertones. Pogoing. Us that is, not The Undertones, who like Mrs MR, come from Derry in Ireland. There is some kind of family myth that Teenage Kicks was written for my wife's sister, but I've no idea if its true or not.

I loved that song, and unlike most of last night's late night revellers, I remembered it from first time around. But I don't buy its central premise. When I were a lad, a teenager, all that "does she fancy me?", "my friend likes  you, do you like her?" and the worst of all "I really like you as a friend" stuff, caused me no end of anguish. Bikes and football are so much easier to understand. Plus ca change.

I was eight sheets to the wind, having a riot, and given that this was a mixed marriage, yes Irish to English, in fact Lancashure, I wasn't entirely sure where I fitted in. Weddings are like that, either a fight breaks out, or they become a huge melting pot of drunk people getting to know each other, laughing at the smallest things and generally having fun. This one was the latter and I did.

At one point I thought I'd arrived at a  Jane Horrocks sound-a-like convention, but they were a great laugh, and the Irish, well they were themselves, we even had the Pogues near the end, the music not the real thing. Though they are about as Irish as me.

Of course, there was a price to pay, a slightly shaky me was one of the earliest into breakfast because of the lunchtime flight back to Bristol. And I'd missed the ACG ride over some hills to the Walled Garden. So with a flurry of texts when I got back home, I found out the route, vaguely, and decided to do it. I knew I wouldn't catch them up. Mainly because they finished about 6 hours before I started, and there was no coffee stop. But it was going well, despite the strong southerly wind, until the rain came.

BBC weather on this occasion, and me with just a light gilet and shorts on. No overshoes either. I always find the best thing to do is just go as fast as you can to keep warm. And I did alright considering the depredations of last night.

Maybe I should do it before sportives, there's a thought dook,

http://ridewithgps.com/routes/404515

You can't give me the dreams that are mine anyway

Opportunity knocks. Pretty loudly, with an imminent warning that he's not coming back until at least next Tuesday, so rest or no rest, if I want to go out on my bike with him, I'd better do it today.

I couldn't persuade Skip either so it was just me, the bike, and a few thoughts left over from the Cotswold Spring Classic. Skip and I have a habit of revisiting old conversations, I think there must be some deep psychological meaning to that, unfinished business maybe. Today, events unfolding half the world away, took me back to my own words. There are not right or wrong answers, only cause and effect, action and consequence, morality is relative, sometimes, and as Chou Enlai is reputed to have said when asked about the efficacy of the French Revolution, thought for a moment before uttering "too early to say". And this was 200 years later.

Is it wrong to kill people? Does it depend on your perspective, or the consequence? Or the virtue of those doing or ordering the deed? Is it a good thing that some people feel good that someone has been killed, or bad that people like me ask questions about the complexities of morality?

Perhaps I'd better stick to cycling, it's simpler. If possible it was even windier than yesterday, coming from the north east, straight down the gorge into my face. Again, there were few cyclists about, the ones I saw were tanking it in the other direction. I'm glad I wasn't going down the gorge in that wind, you get some strange eddies and flurries around some of the bends and corners.

I was originally going to turn left at the top of the gorge, but couldn't face the direct headwind anymore, so changed tack a bit and headed along the road towards Green Ore. Horror of horrors, that stretch that had smooth black asphalt, now has horrible newly-laid chippings on it, no idea why they have done that when there are so many pot-holed roads they could have attended to. Like yesterday, once again I headed down to Chewton Mendip past the Waldegrave estate. Turning towards Litton I was at last out of the wind, and when I got on the main road through the Chew valley, it was pretty much a full tailwind.

Never has that road been so enjoyable! I was flying down the hills so fast it gave me loads of momentum to get at least half way up each succeeding uphill, and the gale on my back was akin to a helping hand over each crest. When I got to Blagdon I decided to take the steep road to the top of Burrington Coombe. Delightfully, the old knackered road on that hill has been resurfaced with some lovely smooth tarmac, which will make descending it a lot safer in future.

It's pretty steep at the bottom, but once past Yew Valley it settles down into a steady 8%, with a couple of short steeper bits here and there. Once at the top I had that tailwind again, this time for the long sweeping descent of the Coombe. And just as hoped, I recorded a new maximum speed for the year, and probably the fastest I have done with a 50 tooth front chainset ever (wow, anoraks of the world unite, I can't believe I have just recalled that fact without looking it up). 45.3 mph. I'll just check..........As I thought. I have only been faster on a bike 3 times, and all were on my Kona, which has a bigger top gear.

From there I wended my way home via the Langford Arms (I really must stay there one day to see what it's like and who else stays there), Ghost hill and Sandford. About 36 miles all in all, and I think that makes a pretty good training loop, with a bit of everything thrown in. Charlie records a point top speed of 68mph, but that couldn't be true, it did feel great though.

http://ridewithgps.com/routes/393166

Too slow to notice what's wrong

A few weeks ago Skip and I were going to do this hilly ride over to Bruton and back, for some reason we decided to go to Glastonbury instead. I think I was tired or it was raining or something. So today, after the 84th Bank holiday of the year, and all family duties fulfilled we both found ourselves with an opportunity, or a window, and probably because we are both getting very bored of doing the same routes, we resurrected the Bruton loop.

First up was Shipham Hill, then along to Charterhouse, across the top of the Mendips and down to Chewton Mendip past the Waldegrave estate. Then we wiggled about a bit, eventually descending on the main road into Shepton, before peeling off on back roads, down another marvellous descent into Evercreech, and over the big hill north of, and into Bruton.

The coffee place on the high street looked fab, only there was nowhere to put our bikes, so we bumbled on through Ditcheat, Wraxhall Hill and across the lumps and bumps near Pilton, skirted Wells and ended up and Sweets.  Where I had a lovely bacon sandwich, and Skip had a walnut and carrot cake, or death on a plate as the atopic me calls it. Well it was lunchtime by now.

Fuelled by strong coffee we made good time on the remaining, largely flat route home.  From there it was a short blast back through Wedmore and Clewer and back home. By the time I made it home my total mileage was about 65 miles, with just over 5000 feet of climbing, and all done at an average of 15 mph. Surprisingly. I say this because there was plenty of climbing, and descending on dry gravelly and unknown roads, so it was wasn't always possible to go flat out.

http://ridewithgps.com/routes/390901

Here are two sequences of dates that depress me. 1932, 1978, 1989, 1992, 2003 and almost certainly 2011. I'm typing this because I can't stand the pain of the inevitability of watching the Irons go down again. But it's gonna happen, almost certainly if form and history are anything to go by. And there is nothing I can do about it. I just have to decide whether to renew my season ticket again. I have had it for 21 years and I'm seriously wondering if it is worth it.

The second sequence may affect you as well, especially if you are around about my age. 1983, 1987, 1992, 1997, 2001, 2005, 2010. Quite easy this one, the general election sequence. That's not the depressing bit. I have lived  in five constituencies in those 7 elections. And not once has my vote counted for anything. Like most of you I'd guess. Our stupid electoral system puts the power to change a government in the hands of less that a million people. Is that democracy?

Of course AV is not a great system either, but it's not complicated STV is a great system and that is complicated), and anyway, we have a complicated tax system, and that doesn't stop them. So if you are wondering what is the point of voting on Thursday, and can't decide, do it for me. Stop me moaning about one tiny thing for one day. Because like the old saying goes, "if voting changed anything, perhaps they'd abolish it", and we just don't notice do we?