yen_powell

Luckily, I'm already there, his comrades are dying all the time in the last few chapters, the Brits have introduced new aircraft that now have a fighting chance, I'm up to 1917, he can't last much longer himself now. Oddly, no mention of Snoopy yet????

The flying blackboard rubber was a common thing, but only in senior school for me. It's quite a lump of wood if it catches you right, I only ever saw it bounce of walls though, never saw anyone brained. Chalk was more often the missile of choice as the teachers knew there was less chance of getting the sack if it struck any one.

I'm reading RICHTHOFFEN THE RED NIGHT OF THE AIR written in 1935, quite good, only halfway through though, CALL ME EMPTY by S P Muir, a London despatch rider of the 80s memoir and BLACK CAMELOT by Duncan Kyle at the moment. The red baron book is good. I have learnt he started off as a cavalry officer and fought in Russia on horse as well as in the trenches on foot before becoming an observer in a 2 man plane. Becoming a pilot was not really his plan at the start of the war. In fact being an observer usually meant you weren't allowed to learn to fly as they were considered more valuable than the actual pilots and harder to replace.

Bit of teacher violence. My junior school head teacher was an utter arsehole, once saw him punch the boy next to me in the stomach during morning assembly for not singing loudly enough. My singing volume increased dramatically in that very instant so maybe he was a good teacher after all.....He also had the habit of picking his nose and flicking the result. If you mention his name on FB pages with ex pupils they all mention that without prompting so he must have always done it. https://spitalfieldslife.com/2022/10/18/the-mind-keeps-the-score/

Needs updating, apparently the latest east end thing is stabbing other parents with a screw driver whilst waiting to pick up the kids from infants school. Next parents' evening should be interesting.

They wear a better quality of shroud and wood.

Because we nearly let the gas board dig some more stiffs up very close to the same location we all had to have a lesson from the museum of London on why the bodies were so important and why we could go to prison if we fuck up again. The grave yard around the old monastery and Christ Church (St Katherine's Hospital, hence 'Spitalfield name nowadays) contains people over a very long time period, but more importantly the very poor corpses all the way up to the very rich corpses, so analysis can teach a lot more about life in the past than just looking at one particular group of people. The ones still to be looked at are under a large protective concrete slab, so that in the future when even better methods of analysis are available they can be exhumed and studied in even more detail.

Good one today, stored bodies from crypt of Christ Church (plus gold false teeth) https://spitalfieldslife.com/2022/10/17/dr-margaret-clegg-keeper-of-human-remains-x/

Don't think much of yours.

Day off today, hurrahhhhh.

WHAT???? Oh shitbiscuits, I've cleared trophy space on the mantle piece and everything.

Loobman was a 'put oil on when you want it' rather than a certain number of drips per minute like a Scottoiler when I had one. I had one for a short while because they were cheap. If my chain was dry when I wheeled the bike out of the garage in the morning I would hit the trigger on the oil and then ride off. If anything happens to delay you however, you get a small puddle of oil instead. You also have to have the oil bottle above the feed to the sprocket and the pipe running downward. Sounds easy unless you fit the thing on a centre stand and don't allow for the swing arm rising with your weight on the bike...... I gave it up not because of the oil part, but for the same reason I gave up on Scottoilers. The feed to the sprocket always get knocked, bent, twisted etc when removing the wheel, pushing the bike backwards or adjusting the chain. The small bottle with pointy nozzle that came with it was ideal for just running oil onto the inside run of my chains whilst turning the wheel by hand or engine/1st gear.

I could have put my Norfolk speed camera photo back in the spring I suppose, but I was too embarrassed at the low speed reading.

I'm neither one way nor the other. I can't even remember the question at the top after reading through the answers.

I'm on my 3rd Caberg Tourmax right now, I like them because they have a peak that I can tip my head a little forward to use as a sunshield when riding into low sunshine and the good peripheral vision it provides through the wide visor slot. The peak is also good at up to 3 figure speeds, doesn't try to tear your head off like my off road helmet does. Before that I had 2 flip front Cabergs, can't recall the model, had them because they were the first lid I saw with an internal sun visor. Had a Bell full face once but only because the training place I was working at did a huge discount on them for instructors (still got a Bell off road that is 20 years old now, kept cos I like the look of it, just realised it's in my signature picture here). Had a couple of Shoeis, I liked those. My first lid was a Kangol, my second as well I think.

Your pet hamsters when you were little?

Not these bags, they were tiny. I tied it to one of my tent guy lines and there was nothing left of it. I think they were for those very small pedal bins.

Pineapple shaped ice buckets, or maybe that was just our house.

There was a skip, but it said 'no food waste' on the side. By that time my bin liner had food mixed in with the other stuff so I didn't put it in there. Everyone looked to be neatly tying their bags for someone to collect up at the end, I saw no loose litter anywhere.

I returned to the queue, probably an hour after the last attempt and this time my mate had arrived and was a few places ahead of me. I signed in and received a little marked up bag with a sheet of info, a badge, a bin liner and a voucher for a free coffee inside. I walked back to my tent and watched my mate fighting with his tent in the wind. I told him I’d had no trouble, but as he was I’d give him a hand. Eventually order was restored and we went and had a few drinks. The wind dropped now and the sun was quite warm. I filled up my water container at a tap and saw a bloke who looked like Phil the Spill, a character from rallies in the 80s and 90s. I knew he lived in the wilds of Scotland and no longer rode a bike so was sure it couldn’t be him. Later that night when the first band were on I asked him if it was him and it was. His photos are on Facebook and cover a time period of just under 30 years of rally attendance, not bad for a man who doesn’t actually drink alcohol. The pictures are like a time machine, hair styles, clothing, tent types and bikes, you can watch them change over the years. I mentioned I had spoken to him when they had strippers at a BMF rally in 2000 which was unusual at that time and he proceeded to whip a tablet out of some inner pocket and he had all his photographs on it, including those. They were ruder than I remembered. I went to bed a bit wobbly, the wind had calmed so much it was silent apart from everyone talking, snoring or farting around the field. It was bloody cold and at one point I got up, dug out my jacket inner liner and put that on top of all the other stuff I was wearing. Next day I persuaded my mate to follow me to the Silverstone Race track museum. Spent an hour or so in there, the 3D film at the end is worth the entry fee all on its own, although it did make me feel a bit sick. When you exit it you can watch the cars flying round the track, there was a Ford Ka and a Mk 1 Cortina rushing around as well as more modern stuff. We stopped for lunch in a flash boatmans’ pub by a canal afterwards and lowered the tone of the place. Riding back to the rally I heard a siren somewhere behind me as we rode through a small pretty village. I hugged the kerb but kept moving and looking in my mirror I saw my mate had done the same and a fire engine flew past us. A few miles later we caught up with it. There was a car, a few people, firemen, some motorbikes and a line of cones blocking off a country lane junction, obviously an accident close to the rally site. I found out later it was a motorcyclist who died not long after crashing. He was nothing to do with the rally, just passing by, but one of the passing female rallyists held his hand as he died apparently. https://www.mkfm.com/news/local-news/police-appeal-after-motorcyclist-dies-in-collision-in-milton-keynes/?fbclid=IwAR1sR0dDxr4EsaV1thizTGo1aaKCDXdw73VdaYAcn529Q1pcd53EYOMLhQ4 We were waved on around the cones by a fireman and returned to the site. The bands were very good on Saturday night, the only fly in the ointment was that the bar ran out of my preferred drink and I never managed to get the same drink twice in a row afterwards as other stuff ran out too. I spent another cold night and woke up to see my mate had set his collapsible kettle up on an ancient gas stove. I packed all my stuff inside the tent up, made myself a cup of coffee on my own stove, then walked across the site for a pre home journey dump in the portaloos. I returned from that and his kettle still hadn’t boiled. I talked to him for another 15 minutes before steam started coming out of it. I reckon it took about 45 minutes all told. I packed my tent up, it now taking up twice as much room as before and packed my panniers. One refused to lock, the key wouldn’t turn. I bunged a bungee on it and decided to sort it out when I got home. I said my goodbyes to various people and headed home using the back roads rather than motorways. I was doing well until I passed through Bishops Stortford. When I went to cross the M11 roundabout to carry on home it was all coned off and being in a narrow one way road I was forced onto a northbound M11 along with other cars full if annoyed looking people. I had to do 35 miles to get back the same roundabout on the other side. I heard today that some other people I know got caught out the same way. So it was 90 miles there and a 126 home. I fixed my pannier lock after unpacking, a ball bearing inside the lock had jammed, bad design if you ask me.

I headed across country to the rally about lunchtime on Friday, my mate was riding from further away as the crow flies (61/63 miles respectively) on his new to him Triumph Tiger 800, but there seems to be no direct route east to west for me, so my journey was 90 miles, his was only 80. I had a new tent I bought in 2020 when no one was allowed out and I hadn't even opened the bag, let alone put it up. This proved to be a mistake. I did my zig zag journey in very windy conditions, the sort of blustery stuff that shakes your head about rather than pushing the bike across the road if you know what I mean and I arrived about 2pm. I stopped my bike next to the signing in tent where there was a long queue which didn't appear to be moving. I stood at the end for a few minutes, looking back at my bike I could see the stand had sunk enough to make me worry about it tipping over properly, so I left the queue and moved it a few feet onto slightly firmer mud. When I rejoined my queue I heard my name called and realised that a couple I knew were ahead of me. Jackie and Shaun told me to just ride in and put my tent up and sign in later, so I got my bike and followed their directions to find out where they were camped. I parked up and the field was full of sheep shit, it was everywhere. The words 'it's a working farm' came back to me from the rally info sheet. By now the wind had really picked up so the first thing I did was get the ground sheet out of my tent bag and peg one end down so it wouldn't blow away. Then I removed the Kyham tent which was a taller version of a type I'd had two of over the last 20 years, so it shouldn't have presented any problems. BUT, with the wind fighting my every move it was hard work and one of the folding poles just seemed to be in a knot and until I could get that sorted the thing had no structural integrity and the wind was sending it back and forth. Out of nowhere a few blokes came and asked if I needed help. I suggested holding on to my ankles would be a good idea. Then Jackie turned up as well and 4 of us fought the tent some more. We were still having trouble with a single folding pole and one of my saviours spotted that it had been assembled incorrectly. He managed to disconnect it and rethread it properly and we finally got the thing to stand up and I pegged it down quickly. I pinched one of the guy lines from the non windy side and doubled up on the gale side and it seemed okay. A few feet away there was a collapsed tent with about 5 Givi panniers sitting on top of it. It turned out that tent belonged to someone I know called Noddy. He and other members of his bike club dressed in foil suits when the bands were on that night and he had what looked like a head band over spiky hair. This turned out to be a hat which he whipped off to show us. I made him do it again for the camera as you can see.

I'll bet they are all around you, they just don't talk about what they've done in their lives unless asked directly or something happens to make them speak about it. The quiet man collecting glasses in the local pub could be a Spanish civil war hero or villain.

Ware 2. Several career changes here. https://spitalfieldslife.com/2022/10/10/tony-jack-trumans-brewery-chauffeur-o/