1st Birthday Celebrations

You might have noticed the lack of action on the blog over the last 12 months. A large part of this is down to Nick's arrival 12 months ago and the subsequent disappearance of disturbing amounts of time. As well as wondering how we managed to waste so much time previously, we are now aiming to put the lack of blog action right.




Nick celebrated his 1st birthday in style with gifts galore, a trip to the swimming pool, a turtle cake* and the ability to crawl.

*no actual turtles were harmed during the making of this cake, but sadly many chocolate buttons were.

Nicholas Anthony Wallace

We are overjoyed to announce a new arrival to the Doubleu household.

Nicholas Anthony was born at 0917 on 30th March 2012 at the RVI, Newcastle-upon-Tyne. He weighed in at 3.06kg which is 6lb 12oz in old money.




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Triathlon

The Doubleus were in Leeds visiting the Burdon family this weekend. As expected Jeff was once again a massive hit with little Daniel, who enjoyed his walk in the woods with "Big Jeff." True carbo-loading was forsaken in favour of a takeaway Thai and we were set!

Today was the Leeds Xpress Triathlon. Based at Leeds Grammar School, it was pool based, so we went off in waves.



Mark went off first because of his slightly slower swim time so, with this being my first event, I wandered around trying to pick up some tips from the different waves as they went out.

Daughtingly, despite having never done one before, I was seeded one wave down from the elite (just because I can swim a bit and had perhaps slightly underestimated my swim time). My big fear was getting out last after the swim, perhaps being able to just about keep up on the cycle but then being left for dead on the run.

This was pretty much what happened. I managed tumble turns for the first 200m, then an errant wave almost drowned me. But despite it being choppy, I was pretty much on target, and one of the first out of the pool. I found it tough to get going on the cycle and it was quite a hilly course but after 5k or so, I felt I'd found a rhythm. I managed to overtake a few, and in return was overtaken by a few (mostly by those with funny shaped helmets - well that Lycra is tight!).

When I got off the bike it all started to go a bit pear-shaped. Firstly I got delayed putting my socks on that I hadn't put on for my cycle... Do triathletes even bother with socks? Then my jelly legs wouldn't work. Then they cramped as I started my run. Then I got stitch!



Despite this I got to the end in 1hr 36. Not a bad time for my first effort. Only 8 minutes slower than marathon runner Mark: I was faster on the swim and cycle but sorely let down by my "run." There's nothing else for it: I'm going to have do some more running training as much as I hate it... and practice putting socks on faster!


Could also use a top tip for getting permanent marker off skin!

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Location:Leeds

Lochs and Glens

The Doubleus have just returned from a trip to the past. During our cycle trip in South West Scotland with Pete and Jen we lived in wooden shelters and spent some time in the 1970s.




Read the full trip report on Doubleu Wheels.


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McAustralia

The Doubleus have fled the European winter looking for warmer weather and brighter times. Australia always seems quite american to us: it might be the wide open spaces and blue skies, or that it's full of large, loud people. There are some differences though: you're not encouraged to shoot the wildlife and the loud locals are usually harmless. Even Ronald feels he has to try and fit in with the local "culture."





We've done the usual: Rocks, Opera House, Botanicals, Darling Harbour, Chinatown. We took the obligatory ferry out to Manly, to visit the beach and see the sights from the harbour. I even persuaded Mrs Doubleu to hire a bike over in Manly.





The route out to the north head of the harbour entrance was hillier than we thought and the midday sun warmer than we expected. Were we missing the snow in the French Alps? Not too much.

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Late Christmas

The Doubleus have just spent the weekend in London visiting Maria, John and Fin, who is now walking. Jeff was his usual superstar-self on the East-coast mainline, and "enjoyed" celebrity status once more on the tube (Japanese tourist pushes Canon in face), but was a bit disturbed to find Fin pushing a pretend dog around. Not one to hold a grudge, JD quickly set about winning Fin's affections and was rewarded by Fin feeding him Mrs Ball's chutney flavoured crisps within 24 hours.

We enjoyed a late Christmas pressie session around Maria and John's living Christmas tree that was still up! Fin was very excited by his life-size Gruffalo, but not entirely sure about the disturbingly life-like baboon that Tony and Chris had brought over from Cape Town. We were joined on Saturday by Pete the Vet, who promptly pronounced, "That thing is gonna give Fin nightmares when he gets a bit older." I think he may be right, it's already given me nightmares: I spent a disturbed night on a camp mattress and woke to find myself under it's beady stare on a few occasions.

After the rigours of chasing down a bag thief on Friday at Heathrow, Claire wasn't looking forward to the yomp back across town to Kings Cross. Particularly since I had my picked up "the latest addition to the stable": a giant singlespeed I'd bought from Rob on eBay. However it was all gravy and we made our train with time to spare. Just hoping that the guard still has my bike when we pull into Newcastle.




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Crannog in Midwinter

The Doubleus are going to be joined for Christmas this year by the Irving clan. Meyrick had a rather uneventful trip up from London despite the weather. On the other hand, the overnight flight that Tony and Chris took from Cape Town via Istanbul was one of the last to land at Heathrow before the snow and ice really took hold. Reward for this was a 2 hour wait on the runway followed by a 2 hour wait on the tube followed by a 4 hour train trip to Newcastle.

Feeling that they hadn't done enough travelling, after a few days this "hardened northern posse" decided to brave the snow, ice and feezing fog and venture up to the cottage at Gatehouse.

Temperatures of minus 12'c greeted us on arrival. But a crystal clear night sky with a full moon gave way to a very crisp still day with a perfect blue sky. So after a warming breakfast of porridge (what else in a Scottish winter?), we set off for our walk with Jeff in Laurieston Woods.

Jeff was a little perturbed to find one of his all-time favourite drinking streams frozen solid. Not one to let his spirits be dampened, he quickly got stuck in to a bit of ice skating! It looked such fun that by the end of the walk we'd all had a go!

The Weddoes play Bizarro

I recently drove through a blizzard to see the Wedding Present play the hometown gig on their Bizarro Tour. I say "hometown," but David Gedge now spends most if his time in Southern California than Leeds (you can hire his Santa Monica pad whilst they're on tour). And I say "The Wedding Present," but obviously DG is the only member from the original line-up.




After dealing with ice and snow on the way to Leeds city centre, Mark and I met up with Simon and warmed ourselves on Thai food and Tiger beer, before we were treated to a storming gig.

TWP warmed us up with "Heather" from the "Seamonsters" LP and "Something and Nothing" off their first EP "from more than 20 years ago," Gedge said, "and I know what you're thinking: how do I still look so good?" I think the Grecian 2000 may have something to do with it, David.

They then launched into the complete "Bizarro" LP which was still stunning all these years later. Sadly we weren't treated to the B-sides from the singles (The Weddoes cover of "Box Elder" was the first Pavement song I ever heard), but we were treated to a few extras before the obligatory statement: "This is our last song. We are The Wedding Present and we don't do encores."

I can't wait for the "George Best vs The Seamonsters Tour" that must surely be in the offing.

An excellent night couldn't get much better could it? Well, yes. The purchase of an "All the songs still sound the same" T-shirt was followed by it being autographed by DG; no wait for a taxi in -5'c; Sierra Nevada Pale Ale waiting in the fridge; and a satisfyingly swift victory for England in the Adelaide Test.

Powder Hound

We were woken at 5am by a whining Jeff Dog. His mountaindog genes were kicking in: he'd seen the snow and was desperate to be out.




After fortifying myself with porridge and strong black coffee, I was ready to hit the slopes (and by that I mean the hill at the bottom of Salisbury Gardens). It turned out I needed 2 dog handlers for the shenanigans I was planning, so Mrs Doubleu and the lodger both had to suit up in appropriate arctic gear.

After "giving" me on my snowboard a 50m head start, Jeff was released to chase me down. He quickly caught me as I speeded down the hill, and savaged my mittened hands before pushing me to the snow and leaping all over me. Repeat several times with no ski lift to get to the top: it was hard work and Jeff wasn't making it any easier with his newly acquired attack-dog skills... but I would have my revenge.




It wasn't deliberate but I ran him over! I felt dreadful when I realised I'd cut his paw open. Thankfully he didn't seem to have notice and even though he would eventually need staples, he was still galloping around, chasing snowmen, with a grin on his face.

Adirondack Wanderings

Now that The Doubleus have decided they are not emigrating to Canada AND have seen Niagara, there was just one item left on their Canadian "bucket list": canoeing in the Algonquins.

Well, after the stress of selling the Highlander and the anxiety of waiting for the "check" to clear after we'd driven all the way to Pennsylvania to deposit it, we weren't going to drive back 4 hours north of Toronto.

Instead, we headed to upstate New York, to the wilds of The Adirondacks. Same canoeing, different lakes, difficulty with the pronunciation and perhaps less chance of being eaten by a bear. We set out from Floodwood Pond after a 5 minute talk from St Regis Canoe Outfitters: what could possibly go wrong?


A very mellow day followed with paddling across ponds, lakes and down creeks. We watched ducks swimming and a heron fishing. Even the 1/3 mile portage, where I had to wear a 2 man canoe as a hat, wasn't too bad.

All was going well and we arrived back at base on schedule (ie before dark). My arms were aching after a full day's paddling - but guess what: Mrs Doubleu's weren't! She's either super-fit or (and I suspect this is the most likely explanation) she was only pretending to paddle. Just one more lift up the bankside when: crack! I think I popped that rib again!

Niagara needs Viagra

Or something like that. Mrs Doubleu was a little underwhelmed by Niagara. Apparently Victoria Falls are taller and wider. Me, I was blown away the falls are just a little more impressive than High Force in the Durham Dales.

The Maid of the Mist trip was a little tacky but worthy of the hype. It is the only way to really appreciate the power of these falls. And as a bonus The Doubleus are now proud owners of matching blue bin bags with arms and hoods, result!




The town of Niagara Falls, though was worthy of all the scorn Mrs Doubleu heaped upon it. Imagine Blackpool minus the sticks of rock, fish & chips, and the donkeys; plus a glut of generic chain "restaurants" and the super-obese some of whom were too lazy to get out of their cars and merely drive by with video cameras pointed out of moving car windows!

Some tackiness though can be a force for good.

Buffalo, NY

Well, this is what greeted us outside the motel lobby as we walked to breakfast this morning. Turns out it's the opening game of the NFL season today. It's all gone a bit wild west buffalo bill round here. At least that explains the raucous tailgate party in the parking lot last night, but it would have taken a fair bit more to keep us awake. Even the bed bugs didn't manage that! Nope, not the classiest hotel The Doubleus have ever stayed in.

All this didn't put us off our game though. Reloading US mobile: check. Registering on Craigslist: check. Cataloguing all the gear: check. We even made $700 by 2pm... By selling $2000 worth of gear. Darn it! Feels very similar to Mrs Doubleu's Amazon "business".

To be fair though, she's been ruthless sorting her clothes. Maybe a quarter of the clothes she's never worn since I've known her have now made their way to charity shops. And even if the legion of DVDs I've made my way to Starbeck post office to send have only recouped an average of 20% what they were bought for (minus postage), there are benefits. I'm fitter from walking there so often, and there's more shelf space for all the books I haven't read yet.

Notes to self: 1/ you do not need to buy any more books for 2-3 years; 2/ Mrs Doubleu is not the only hoarder in our household.

Mrs Doubleu in worldwide culinary first.

Never usually one to be too adventurous with her food, Mrs Doubleu appeared to be at the cutting edge of a new culinary trend this week.

As she baked her already world famous (at least in our house) cupcakes this week, Mrs Doubleu reached for the butter in the familiar silver and blue Lurpak livery. She was puzzled by the savoury smells coming from the kitchen and subconsciously blamed me for making a mess in the oven. Later I was frankly stunned by the garlic stench in the mixing bowl. Yes you got it, she'd only gone and used my garlic butter in her cupcakes.

Resisting the impulse to go the whole savoury hog and "ice" them with cream cheese and chives, they were served plain. They were unusual but not entirely unpleasant- basically cupcakes that gave you garlic breath.

They did pass both the Jeff and the Harv tests with flying colours gaining snorts of approval from both. Sadly neither of these gastronomes are known for their discrimination: just this week Jeff was caught eating another dog's poop and Harv, well Harv, shame-facedly admitted eating KFC.

Southwest Scotland

The Doubleus recently had a long weekend in D&G. Well it was long weekend length but midweek. This lack of a Saturday and Sunday in the trip would explain why there was wall to wall sunshine with not one cloud spotted.

J-diggle was most excited to be back in the garden at Crannog, he had a superlative walk in Laurieston Woods (and happily failed to catch a red squirrel), but he has told me his personal highlights were: 1/ the end of an icecream cone at the Cream O Galloway; and 2/ a small piece of haggis-stuffed chicken wrapped with bacon in a whiskey sauce followed by a walk on the beach at Kippford.

In a vain attempt to get Mrs Doubleu back on her £4figure mountain bike, I had booked us a mixed level skills class. After our initial assessment, Ruth from bottle-green biking purred that I was "very smooth" but that Mrs Doubleu was in a "class of her own."

So whilst Mrs Doubleu was put through her paces, I trackstood (?) for literally seconds at a time. Mrs Doubleu was tired by this point and had to have "a rest" (read: fudge) whilst I was talked through "railing berms." Then things reached another level for me as I was taught the "manual" - I was so good at this I manualled off the back of my bike whilst clipped in, cracking a rib. Skill.

Smooth? I'm still not entirely sure if she was on about my shaven face or my chat but it would appear not to be my biking skills.

Amsterdam again

Well, here we are in the executive lounge at Schipol again. Last time for a while I reckon. A fairly daunting trip ahead of us but triffling compared with what we've been through recently.

It's simply a matter of flying to Buffalo (on the anniversary of 9/11 for crying out loud!); cataloguing an entire flat's contents that are in storage in a lock-up; photographing then listing them on craigslist; collecting a 4x4 from Toronto and bringing it back to US to sell; closing Canadian bank accounts; seeing Niagara; driving to Pennsylvania to close US bank accounts; spotting some Amish folk; and possibly visiting the Adirondacks. After that it's simply a matter of packing what we can then selling everything else or having an effing huge illegal bonfire!

Just another regular relaxing Doubleu-style vacation then.

Reefer Porn

What is reefer porn I asked myself? Is it The Dude sitting in a smog of his own pot smoke in The Big Lebowski? Or the latest Howard Marks book? Nope. You want the dope? It's what I typed into someone's medical records today!

I'd meant to type "refer prn" but as I watched my hands dance over the keyboard like squirrels on speed, I realised typos were a real danger as I watched "reefer porn" appear before my eyes.

It's a struggle to keep to schedule even when things are running smoothly and when things get away from you, entering the notes is one area where you think you can make up time.

So today, I noticed that rather than controlling a patient's blood pressure I'd typed: "BO controlled." One man had had regular "stolls" rather than stools (giving alarming mental images of the stollen cake I'd eaten on the coast to coast a couple of years back and my sudden realization of it's similarity to the stool I'd turned it into 3 days later - it was that heavy).

All easily explained to the nice lawyers as typos, I'm sure, if I ever had to refer to these entries in court. All of this however, paled into the insignificant today as I heard myself say "nice even breasts" to a women whose chest I was examining. I meant "take nice even breaths," your honour. Yeah, right.

Tronno 2

"Jeez its flat," is all I could think as we flew in to Toronto. Toront, as mis-said by the Japanese, or Tronno as it's known to the locals, sits in an epic flatness that out-Norfolks Norfolk. It is slightly hillier, only slightly - but it is spread over such a big region that seemingly bunked off Topography 101 whilst at the University of Landscape.

After a quick sleep at Ed and Lucy's kindly loaned condo, we headed south in our Not-So-Smart Car. Sure we were helping the planet, but who was helping us amongst these 18 wheelers, Hummers and monstered-up pick-ups? Next stop Buffalo, New York.




The US Border Patrol were polite but oh-so-slow, and it took them 150 minutes to decide that we weren't actually al-Quaida in disguise.
"What address will you be staying at?" said the uniform.
"Well, we're actually just popping to a lockup to collect some stuff. We'll be here less than 12 hrs."
"Do you know the address? I guess I'd better put that on the form," was said with disbelief that anyone wouldn't want to stay forever in his land of plenty and I suspect a suspicion that as illegal immigrants we may try and live in a lock-up garage.

After surveying just exactly how much junk we have in storage, it was time for a quick vehicle change, then we were headed north in a much more appropriate automobile for survival on these roads: the Highlander (I wonder if they make the "there can be only one" car sticker I want?).

Back in Toronto we checked out the neighbourhoods: Little Italy, Greektown, Little India, Chinatown.... Is any of it Canadian? Yes, The Beaches, a waspish enclave that's perhaps a little too new age: Starbucks sits proudly on the corner dishing out it's caffeine hits whilst it's downstairs for "dessert" where they do a roaring trade cleaning out the toxins you've just ingested.

Over the bar

Just a quickie about this Pittsburgh institution. Over the Bar styles itself as a "bicycle cafe" which here in Pittsburgh means ten beers on draft and a serious line in burgers, nachos and enchiladas each with it's own not-completely-sequitur cycle-related name: the "Granny Rings" being beerbattered onion rings and the "Fixie" being a no compromise, no-variations-permitted plain burger. The PGH (portobello mushroom, gruyere and ham panini) is the local hipsters favourite with its 50c contribution to bikepgh.org - the cycling advocacy organisation. Anyway etc, you get the picture.

Earlier in the week I'd ridden Frick again then later in the week North Park, gotten lost, wandered along a rail road a la "Stand By Me", developed cramp and a poison ivy rash. So, 90 mins of world cup qualifier boredom, a Moab burger and 2 not-quite-pints of draft Sierra Nevada later, I was ready to meet Mrs Doubleu after her last day at UPMC Childrens, feeling that my 'Burgh biking education was complete*.

*The author reserves the right to, at some point in the future, possibly as an unsupported bikepacker, return to Pittsburgh and complete the 330 mile off-roader to Washington DC. Yes, Mrs Doubleu, that is for your information and I will require pickup in DC, please.

Toront 1

It started so well: the out-of-hours powers-that-be allowing me to still work my overnight shift (€A$H) but leave an hour early to catch my plane. I did my best to scupper things by leaving my iPhone and charger in Durham when I was clearly going to need it to meet up with Mrs Doubleu in Schipol. She'd caught an earlier airmiles funded flight (-too much transatlantic living... but I wouldn't be complaining later as I entered the calming oasis of the executive lounge in the wake of her shining gold card).

So after a quick detour via home (Hi Jeff! Hi Max!) to dump my doctoring gear, I realised this essential kit was missing and rang work. I was informed that Andy, a kindly ECP, was hotfooting it to Newcastle International with the offending items. Cue comedy scenes: as Vicky in Durham, with a phone to each ear (yes, very 24) directs 21st century Andy on his mobile to the payphone where I'm anchored seemingly in 1989 (yes, I know... a payphone!!!?!).

Andy handed over the brown envelope, bulging with iPhone and charger, then we both sauntered to the short stay carpark to beat the reg plate recognition camera system "20 minutes for £1" cut off deadline. Wheelspinning to the exit, I then left my engine running, as I ran back to help Andy out (no change) by throwing £1 into the paybucket.

Panting and a little clammy, I was back at security after a 10 minute run back from long stay parking. Hand luggage only with a preprinted boarding card, I took the contents of the package and stuffed them in my carry-on bag as I stood in the queue for the scanners, trying to blend in amongst the St Tropez, faux Gucci and crop tops. Good to see such keen eyes for suspicious behaviour at security.

I touched down in Schipol and as we taxied in to the gate I received a text with precise directions to the rendezvous where I offloaded the contents of the package to Agent Mrs Doubleu who was getting dangerously low on charge herself.

As I explained my actions to Interpol later, as I nursed my coffee in the holding cell, "Real spooks wouldn't use iPhones- you just can't depend on the battery life..." or was that just my cover story. "And anyway, what do you mean the airport art gallery is closed? I wanna see those cows!"

The "Way Back When" Machine

So we've finally gotten around to squandering some of our hard-earned on a flickr pro account. It will (hopefully) act as safe back-up refuge for all our digital photos... and what's more - it we can share (some of) our photos with you out there! Here they are.

In what is surely destined to be a futile attempt to de-clutter (is that a verb now?) our existence, I have digitised all the old negatives I could lay my hands on, including those taken by my old friend, Uncle Peter, when we had a year back-packing through the Americas and working in Oz.

The cream of the crop will gradually be released to the general public and will from this day forward be known as "Mike's Way Back When Machine."

Enjoy here.