The story of TBJ and the Bus

My friend TBJ told me a very funny story yesterday and since he’s not much of a runner and it involves running I had to share.

On his way home from a late-ish night he spotted his bus and broke into a light jog to get to the stop in time to catch it. Now TBJ, while not overweight, is a career smoker.  He can assemble a roll-up straight as a pencil and smoke it down to the quick.  He’s most definitely not a runner and the short burst of exercise probably raised his heart-rate to near-dangerous levels.  He arrived a tad late and the bus was pulling away only to stop in traffic some four or five yards beyond the stop.

The gasping TBJ caught the driver’s eye and approached, then knocked on the now closed door (where’s that routemaster platform when you need it?) only to be studiously ignored by the driver.  A little frustrated (and from behind the glass and through the wheeze of 30 years of Old Holborn) he muttered a curse, questioning the driver’s parentage which prompted the driver to return a few choice words and drive off into the traffic.

Now TBJ is an assiduous fellow and calculated that in view of the traffic, if he set off at a brisk jog he might get to the next stop in time to catch him again.  He did.  But unfortunately the road between next stop and the path of the bus had been dug up and so the bus was unable to pull up in the space provided where the pale, panting and now quite excitable TBJ stood.

So while TBJ plotted his victory, confident of an embarkation, the driver had different ideas and sailed past the stop without so much as a “tickets please”.  By this stage, as the soap opera unfolded, the passengers had started to get involved and were glancing between driver and sprinter as if to will them to unite.

But neither driver nor passengers were prepared for what happened next.  Running on a cocktail of adrenalin and vintage tar, TBJ set off for stop number three as the bus mercifully ground to a halt in another wedge of London’s traffic giving him the time to arrive well in advance of his opponent.

TBJ struck a casual pose leaning against the Bus Stop sign stifling the bubbling mucous that tried in vain to escape his heaving chest.  He was determined not to look knackered as Bus 100 pulled up yet again.  “Not lettin’ you on” said the driver through the now open door as other passengers climbed aboard.  “You cussed me back there and I’m not lettin’ you on!”

Wild horses would not have prevented my boy from getting onto that bus and besides, on he already was.  With a sweep of hand towards the half-full bus he replied “If you don’t let me on I will take the names and addresses of these 12 good people and true who will be my witnesses and write to your company and explain that you not only refused me once but three times; I may have heart failure and you will have to fill out triplicate forms, face suspension, ignominy and shame now LET ME ON!”

The theatre of passengers waited for the verdict, necks craned aislewards, while TBJ panted and cleared the sweat from his eyes.  The driver took one look at the jury behind him and knew he was beaten so amid cheers from his new fan club TBJ ceremoniously tapped in his Oyster and swaggered like a freed man towards an empty seat where he collapsed in a heap with that glow only a successfully completed run can bring.

Pimp My Cause

This week I finished a short vid on behalf of an organisation called Pimp My Cause. These people came up with the clever idea of connecting marketers who might be willing to give up a little time with charitable causes who need some help with their marketing. It’s a great idea and I was able to help them by assembling a collection of clips (of varying quality and formats!) from charities and ambassadors into a kind of promo piece.

They have been shortlisted for an award sponsored by Ben Jerry’s for “…sustainable businesses that make a difference in communities” (see http://www.joinourcore.com/) and this vid will be shown on the award night along with those of other short-listers. I wish them every success; they do some great work.

Cookie Monstrosity

What sort of an internet user are you?  How much do you trust the web?  Broadly speaking, I think there are those that think the web is a benign catalogue of useful information and those that are more paranoid and wouldn’t dream of parting with credit card details let alone more personal information about habits, hobbies, salary and such like.

But how much information do you think a site is taking from you while you innocently browse your favourite sites?

The answer is probably a lot more than you thought.  Did you notice that there seemed to be a lot of running-related ads appearing even when you were browsing non-running websites?  That’s because people selling stuff are getting cleverer at serving up content and advertising that is more likely to be relevant to you.  They call this behavioural targeting – it’s the digital equivalent of rummaging through your bins.  I visited one site for Cala Homes a while back and have never seen so many Cala Homes ads appearing in almost every subsequent site I visited.

So it’s not surprising that the EU has sat up and thought “Oi oi, sounds like a chance to spend some time drafting a new privacy directive – that could keep us all in a job for a while” and that’s exactly what’s happening.

As a consumer, you have a right to know if a site has clocked you, dropped a cookie into your browser and then chosen to deliver “Targeted” ads for that brand for the next fortnight in the name of improving your browsing experience.  The EU Privacy Directive  or “Cookie Law” is in fact not yet law but it will be very soon and it aims to protect us consumers from such tactics by enforcing site owners to offer us all an opt out from being tracked in this way.

According to recent surveys, as many as 31% of regular browsing public have no idea what a cookie is.  And why should they.  And only 18% of marketers and brand owners feel that enforcing an opt-out mechanism would be beneficial.  Nearly everyone thinks it’s unenforceable.

But the web is entering an interesting phase; we have embraced a new “Social” phase in how we communicate with each other and businesses want to engage with us personally too.  We expect a personalised browsing experience yet we want it safe, policed and not over-intrusive.  It’s going to be fun to see how all this shakes out because right now it’s none of those things.

BikeAid – old bikes for good causes.

It’s great when an idea comes to life especially when good things happen to those with not much happiness in their lives.  I loved the “donate a coat” campaign that was supported by Breakfast TV last Christmas – they handled tens of thousands of coats including several old monsters from our wardrobe which kept some poor folks warm through the winter.

So when I got a mail from a chum about a collection of second hand bicycles which are to be shipped out to Africa for kids in remote villages I immediately wanted to help not to mention hand over a few old bikes in my garage.  Since his mail arrived in my inbox I’ve connected him to a local journalist I know, forwarded his mail to my brother in law who cycles a lot and is a governor of a local school, connected him with the founder of a cycling portal called www.cyclingbuddy.com, sent him a list of cycling brands I collected at an exhibition and offered to produce a short video interview as people load up his container.

I don’t say this with a glow imperious pride but just as an illustration of how anyone can help with just sharing a few contacts, knocking out an email or two and throwing in a couple of fresh ideas.  What he really needs are some regional collection centres so if you think you can help do get in touch.  And if you can forward this blog/link to others who you think might be able to help then please do.

It costs about £12,000 to hire, pack and ship the container across to Kenya and all funds raised will go to this cost not any other so he’s also fundraising like mad at http://www.justgiving.com/BikeAid-BikeAid .  He needs helmets, locks, tools, spare parts, oil, puncture repair kits, inner tubes, pumps and valves too.

You can learn about Nick Deane’s exploits at http://goo.gl/2FA0r – I’ll keep you posted as to how the project goes.

Didnt it rain!

April has always been known for showers but this year it seems to have gone a bit too far.  Running was a washing-intensive affair and temperatures hard to guage, wet being no guarrantee of cool or cold.  I rediscovered my Innov8 Roclites which have a gortex upper to keep most of the mud and rain out which I heartily recommend in this weather.

I also couldn’t resist getting out with the video camera last weekend and catching a few rainy clips and putting them together (above) with a bit of rainy music courtesy of none other than Mr Tom “The Voice” Jones his-self.

Drink local, shop local. A lesson in how to improve your lap times.

In my village we have three pubs and a shop. We love our local services but times do change and things do sometimes need to move on.  And for some, change is hard to handle.

How far is the Cock Inn?

But without change we would have no history and our village has some history too.  The Church was built in the 12^th Century and The Cock pub which stands opposite still has a tunnel to the crypt across the road.  Here plague-ridden bodies were transported for storage on their journey to the aptly named Deadman’s Ash Lane where they were burned.

I like The Cock, but it’s ½ mile from my house. My local, what was “The Cricketers”, was a sticky floored country pub with average ale and cold outside toilets when I moved here.  Every Wednesday, up to 1,000 impeccably behaved bikers would gather there in the summer for a Barby.  Then it was refurbished to become “Blubeckers” and the bike meets stopped.  Three dark years that lasted until a new owner ripped the whole thing apart, renamed it “The Cricketers” but made it a gastropub and put beer-battered cod and linguini on the menu.  They sell more organic Sauvignon now than lager tops and it’s always full on a Bank Holiday and many of its older regulars think Linguini is a kind of back pain.  Or is that Lumbago.

But the shop has now joined the timeline that is our village.  Threatened with closure, the villagers have struck out and bought in.  It’s now community-owned and undergoing its own metamorphosis. Shop 1.0 was a truly village affair.  You could buy local organic farm eggs with straw on, and newspapers were delivered by hand and paid for on tick.  But when the cash till was stolen for the third time and they tried to put up the price of Sherry things had to change.

Shop 2.0 is, after extensive consultation, emerging as something of a hybrid.  I’m not sure how many villagers actually need Parmesan or Cayenne Pepper and putting out croissants is fine on day one but at three days old they do loose, well, a certain something.  But it’s a brave thing that we do trying to cater for all tastes at The Shop and although I never bought any they have steadfastly retained the Lambrini on the stock list.

Change comes slowly and improvement usually slower and it often takes several attempts to get it right.  Thus I take heart in the fact that I now run slower than I did this time two years ago.  I’m just fine tuning.

Two pubs & a bluebell wood but no sign of Hugh Grant

Hold the phone, this was supposed to be a running blog or at least that’s where it started.  Glancing through my recent posts I seem to have taken a swerve through holidays (without any running in them), Technology, Pseudoephedrine and advertising – arguably the four corners of the Blogosphere without much mention of running.

Actually this has been because I’ve been a little light on running of late and I have been bereft of excuses.  Not that I needed any mind.  I think running and running motivation is something that waxes and wanes without either having or needing to have an excuse.  In fact were one to feel the need to excuse oneself for not running one would be missing the whole point.

But today I did run so I thought I should blog it.  I am blessed with a mass of routes round the Chilterns where I live – you can see most of them on www.MapMyRun.com (search for “Briarsman” once you’ve logged in – you have to register but its free and a great site).

I did my regular three miler.  Setting out through the village you pass 300 yards of scented shrubbery and then through a kissing gate into open cornfields.  The corn is now 8 or 10 inches out of the ground and it smells of socks.  I’m not sure whether that’s the pesticide, the fox piss or my own socks but the latter seems unfeasible after only 5 minutes running!!

Beautiful running countryside

After the corn (8 mins) there’s then a 2 minute dash through a bluebell wood.  I say dash because I usually try to up the pace for that 2 mins.  I’ve seen Deer in that wood and Muntjack too so I figure I may need to run for it one day if they gave chase!

Halfway is marked by a bridge across the M25 (14 mins).  It can be a bit fumey if the wind is in the wrong direction but I enjoy giving the drivers a wave, standing like a pillock on the bridge I beam the message that I’d rather be up here in a few fumes than stuck in a Renault Megane on my way to meet my accountant in a cheap hotel only to pay exorbitant prices for weak tea or putrid coffee and hear about how much money I’m not making.  You get the picture.

More fields and onto the road again at the church where they filmed one of the Four Weddings in the film of the same name, and past The Cock for the last ¾ mile.  The Cock sits on the edge of the Chess Valley (another great run) and as I chug past I like to think the drinkers outside imagine I’ve run up North Hill from the valley floor when in fact I just joined the road 100 yards away.  Ha Ha, I laugh to myself, enjoying my little joke in my now slightly euphoric head.

Back into the village at speed because it’s a tad downhill.  Past the surgery, The Cricketers (not short of Pubs around here) and home.  PB for this 3.1 mile loop is 26minutes PW close to 33 but I was with my slothful, smoking, teenage, harry-styles-lookalike son as a bet he’d never make it.  Fair do’s, he did, but it hurt and he’s never been running since.  He said it was the fags that slowed him down.  But like I said, I don’t do excuses.