Been out cycling today, out towards the Peak District. Originally, Richard and I had planned to go out towards the Strines or Ladybower. I cycled out from my place up to Crookes, meeting Richard there, and then the two of us cycled out along the Manchester Road for several miles to the Rivelin Valley Road. As we were planning what to do next (go on, or go back), it started to rain, so we decided to head back. The rain got heavier. By the time we got back to civilisation after a couple of miles slog (thankfully mild) uphill, it was absolutely chucking it down. We both got soaked to the skin. By the time we got to the top of the hill and started freewheeling back down into Crookes, the rain was so heavy that the water in my eyes meant I could barely see where I was going. I loved it. We stopped back in Crookes for a 10 min breather, and wouldn’t you know it, then the rain stopped. Richard and I split up again from there, and I cycled back home soggily. All told, I was out for 3 hours, and cycled a 13 mile round trip. Not too bad at all.
Going to the cinema later - and I’m cycling there. I must be mad? Nah. Only a 10 min cycle from here to the cinema.

Aw, the press are all heart. Or not. With the news that former heavyweight boxing champion Frank Bruno has been admitted to a psychiatric hospital, several papers ran stories on it.

At one end of the spectrum:
‘So sad: Frank Bruno taken into psychiatric care’ (The Mirror)
‘Frank Bruno taken in for treatment at mental hospital’ (Guardian)

And at the other:
‘Bruno put in mental home’ (Daily Express)

But the worst one by far has to be the early edition of a paper that obviously chose to print before thinking, The Sun:
‘Bonkers Bruno locked up’.
A later edition had it changed to ‘Sad Bruno in mental home: boxing hero sectioned’. Shame the damage had already been done.

Interview on Monday unsuccessful. Back to drawing board, will keep my eyes open and see if anything else surfaces.

Belatedly catching up on what’s been happening over the latter half of August whilst I was effectively offline.

Been continuing to go to the gym on a regular basis, and I’ve lost 7lbs, which I’m very happy about. Hoping to make that a full stone (14lbs) by the end of September.

Dad came up to visit for a couple of days over the bank holiday week (used up the last of my holiday allowance before reset on 1 October). Really enjoyable - we went out to dinner, cycled along Five Weirs and ate wild blackcurrants, tackled my jungle of a garden (bought myself a lawnmower, strimmer and rake in the process), and went to see Tomb Raider 2, yet another summer sequel. Fairly good, though.

By a happy string of coincidences, I’ve met up with an old friend from university I lived with in my fourth year, Ness. Dean, another friend I know from uni, went to a large RP event in Derbyshire over the bank holiday weekend, as did Ness. He happened to mention me, and that I was now living in Sheffield. Ness, who hadn’t heard this, was amazed. Apparently, she moved to Sheffield herself with her partner 5 months ago. In an even funnier coincidence, she and her partner recently visited Don Valley Stadium for a computer fair. They parked their car 30 feet from my front door! Dean got us in contact with each other, and I met her the Friday after the bank holiday weekend. We spent several hours catching up on what’s happened in the 5+ years between us last seeing each other, and we’re now back in contact again.

It was my birthday on the 4th September, of course. Now 28 - which to be honest, doesn’t seem any different to 27. Maybe the fast approaching 30 years doesn’t hit you until you’re only a year away from it? Anyway, had a great birthday. Spent it down at my parent’s house, got into Birmingham with my brother Chris to check out the shiny new Bull Ring and to visit my grandad, went out for dinner, and generally had a wonderful time.

Got a forthcoming job interview on the 15th, for a post still here at the university, but in a different department. Very enthusiastic about the post, seems very interesting. Keeping my fingers crossed for that one.

Been reviewing my mortgage and rearranged to save me some money. Get £500 cashback in the process which, if I receive it in time, I can hopefully use to get over to America again for Thanksgiving in November.

So, things seem to be going well at the moment. Here’s hoping the trend continues.

In the wake of the steadily increasing surge of patriotism in the USA leading up to the second anniversary of 9/11, a quiz from the Guardian on how English you are.

Me? Roughly right:
“The epitome of Middle England, you prefer your Hovis to ciabatta and believe that England can win the cup this time round. You still feel frequent stirrings of patriotism, but deep down you know the world has moved on from the Empire and warm beer on village greens.”

Are you superstitious? I’m not. If I spill salt I’ll happily just brush it off the table without a second thought to throwing any over my shoulder. I’ve deliberately walked under ladders before, just to scoff at superstition (although not whilst there’s painters or window cleaners up above, of course!). If a black cat crosses my path, I idly wonder whether it’s left to right or right to left that’s supposed to be bad luck, and then shrug and dismiss the thought.

Despite all that, I noticed recently that I do have one sort of superstition. I occasionally buy lottery tickets. Not often, but if I happen to wander by a shop that sells them, I’ll pop inside. Each time, I get a lucky dip, and an instant scratchcard. You know that silvery stuff that coats the scratchcards? I hate it. It always gets stuck under my fingernails and I have to scrub it out with a nailbrush. Instead, I use a penny. If I win, great. I go back into the shop and collect the winnings (under £5, cash in for extra tickets; over £5, cash in for money). If I lose I throw away the card, and automatically, the penny that I used to scratch off the silver. Unlucky penny.

After 3 weeks absence, I’ve finally got myself sorted and back online, with fully functional email and FTP access, and a funky new control panel to sort out my account. Plenty of stuff to write about once the clock rolls round to a bit more reasonable time, but for now, something to amuse.

Spotted from the car driving up the Hagley Road in Birmingham yesterday, a huge billboard advertising a popular brand of deodorant with the tagline:
“Roll up your window, pal, I can smell your manky pits from here.”