Don't take this  the wrong way - I mean in the same way I dislike Americans.  In other words, the individual students / Americans I know are lovely people, but the group as a whole is some kind of huge evil diabolical clutch of misery.

For the last four weeks, since my usual commuter train stopped running, I've been using a motorbike to get to work, along much the same route I used to take on a cycle to the station (due to the proximity of several motorways, which as a learner I'm not allowed on, I have limited options in which route I can choose).  And there is a lot of traffic.  On the cycle I never really noticed the traffic, it was just this smelly,  mostly stationary mass that formed narrow corridors of hot metal for me to pedal down.  But on a motorbike, which is just that bit too wide and forbidden from using bus lanes, it's a different story.

During the summer holidays, South Manchester is a quiet and sparsely populated place, punctuated only occasionally by the sounds of car alarms and gunfire.  But come September, around 25000 18 to 21-year-olds descend on the place, and the local bus companies (five of them at the last count) respond by achieving a frequency of one bus every thirty seconds along Wilmslow road.  You'd think that the bus lanes would mean that this wasn't a problem, but no.  You fail to consider the sheer idiocy of most bus drivers.  For instance, if there is no room at a stop, they stop in the other lane.  The one with all the cars in.  And then they wait there for five minutes, because they're trying to stop the bus from another company following them from picking up any passengers.

But that isn't actually the main problem.  About a mile up the road from our house is a large hall of residence.  This hall is on the other side of the road from the nearest bus stop, connected by a pelican crossing.  In summertime, this is barely used.  But when it's stopping the traffic every minute or so to let students across, it causes tailback in excess of five miles long.

Now, you're probably all sitting there accusing me of being unreasonable.  I know, I've been a student too.  But there is one factor you're not considering: This happens every day around about 8AM.  What the holy living fuck is any student doing out of bed at 8 A fucking M?!  When I was a student, I didn't get up until lunchtime, ever.  Nor did any other student.  Occasionally an inexperienced tutor would try to hold a tutorial at 9AM, but they always gave up after a couple of weeks.

Please, for the love of God, let us taxpayers get to work first, then leave.  We're all gone by 9, I promise.  Have a lie-in.  Have more to drink the night before.  Failing that, get a cycle.  It'll work out cheaper than the bus, and the university is only a couple of miles up the road for you.  Spare a thought for those of us with twenty miles to go and no public transport options available.  ;)

I have my first motorbike!  A Honda CBF 125.  Fortunately I had just enough cash set aside to get it, because getting a second-hand bike from the pages of Auto Trader was a logistical nightmare.  My first ever experience of riding solo (without an instructor behind me) was of the 0.2 miles back from the local Honda dealer.  Foolishly it'd taken me until 3PM - school kickout time - to screw up enough courage to actually pick the bike up, and even in those 0.2 miles there are two primary schools.  Mummys may be kind and gentle with their kids, but they're impatient speed-addled hell bitches behind the wheel of a 4WD.

That was last Friday.  Today I used it for my commute the first time, and fortunately I was able to take it really slowly - because the traffic wasn't about to let me get above 10 MPH.  Yes, today's the day the students came back, so Wilmslow road was nose-to-tail buses and daddy-bought Fiats.  I know I'll get better at this and be able to nip in and out of spaces, but for the moment I was just sitting quietly in the queue.  I even turned the engine off a couple of times.

I found yet more evidence of the North/South divide in Manchester too.  South of the Mancunian Way everyone seemed to be very patient, and several times I was given more space and let out of junctions, presumably because of the big L plates.  However, to the North of that was twat-in-a-hatchback central.

Plus, I managed to sit in a bus lane for a few hundred yards in the middle of a camera zone.  Ooops.  Seriously, I saw the arrow saying "You can go back into the left hand lane," so I took it to let others overtake me.  But it was just for a left turn, and I didn't see the bus lane start again, because there was a car sitting on the road markings.  Agh.  Still, I saw no flash, so hopefully I'm okay.  ;)

Still, even on just those two journeys, I can already feel myself getting better.  That'll probably continue until my next lesson, where the instructor will be aghast at the bad habits I've picked up.

And the petrol fumes are clearly getting to me - I already hate cyclists.  Not as much as buses though.

If ever there is a build of Linux that acts more like XP than Kubuntu, I think Mr Gates will be reaching for his favourite lawyer.  ;)

Anyway, stuff.  It seems to be popular to itemize your posts at the moment, so here we go:

Bike

I've had to buy another Silver Machine.  Despite only being able to use it for commuting until October (when the "new improved" transport upgrades in Manchester will make it impossible for me to do anything other than drive), my previous one had just virtually fallen apart.  Whilst there was nothing seriously wrong with it, the massive amount of little things added up to too much.

So, having finally go sick of Raleigh and their faded glory, I now have a Specialized Sirrus, having had the brand recommended to me by numerous people on numerous occasions.  Raleigh really are rubbish these days, but I've been buying them out of habit formed in childhood.

This new one is the cheapest of the "Speed Hybrid" range at Edinburgh Bicycle Collective, nothing fancy.  No shocks on the front forks or seat, which is good, because it's just more stuff to go wrong as far as I'm concerned.  They were having a 15% sale when I bought it, so it came to £275, including having proper mudguards fitted (not the pointless I-think-I'm-a-scramble-bike ones).  Very reasonable.

I went for the cheapest (which isn't my normal habit) because in my long experience of commuting by bike, no matter what it costs, a bike will last 18 months doing the 60-mile-a-week journey I have.  So there's no point in paying over the odds.

Cons

MinamiCon was... MinamiCon really.  ;)  It's so much a habit now, I came away on the Monday realising I'd done virtually nothing con-related all weekend.  Maybe that's why I felt almost jaded.  Next year I'm going to make a deliberate effort to do all the thing like the masquerade and auction again, to rekindle the fire.  ;)

It was also the first time we'd run a dealer table on our own (alternating with the guys from Speedlines) for nearly ten years.  Though apparently our messages hadn't got through, and they plonked us right next to the Sweatdrop tables.  ;)  Fortunately no-one was really being a dick on either side, and there were only a couple of times with a certain... presence sitting behind us.  For the last time: You are in absolutely no bloody danger, I swear to God.  You never were.  We may never speak again, but you can walk about cons safe, okay?  ;)

KitaCon turned out to be a huge laugh, certainly not the disaster that many were predicting.  And it was brilliant not to have anything I had to do at a con for once.  Okay, we ran a dealer table (with Foxy, ToffeeLiz and Angela this time) but that was nice.  It reminded me of how full the old Aya dealer room always looked (because it was the same room ;) ) because it was so small.  A fan dealer had the old SD pitch just outside, and poor Sonia (on her own, not with SD) was shoved into the far corner, as that was the only space left!  There's something extremely funny about watching a perfectly poised EGL suddenly duck under the table and scramble forward on her hands and knees because that's the only way she can get out (sorry Sonia ;) )

I also offered to represent Evangelion at the awards ceremony (not expecting it to win).  Unfortunately, because of delays we had to go and get dinner (for medical reasons) before the ceremony started, which meant we missed it.  And Eva won.  Eep.  I do feel really guilty about that, but I did get up on stage and apologise during the closing ceremony, and the award itself is very nice.

And, it looks like we're sorted for Expo too.  Yay!

Neo

I'm really beginning to wonder why I still buy this magazine.  Certainly my only remaining reason, the SD tutorials, has just vanished, as it was the last article in the series this issue.  It was basically all the contributors over the years saying goodbye.  It would have been nice to say goodbye myself, as I did write seven or eight of the articles, but hey, these things get forgotten.  ;)

Cat

On collecting her from the cattery after KitaCon, she proceeded to barely eat at all for the next few days.  We initially thought that it was a combination of two trips away in quick succession and the hot weather, but by Friday there was clearly something else wrong.  After a day of breaking the golden rule of "Never look up medical symptoms on the internet" and terrifying myself with tales of catastrophic liver failure, I took her to the vet on Friday.  He quickly told me that she had a throat infection, gave her an anti-inflammatory injection, and she was fine a day or so later.

However, we've got another lot of antibiotics to give her, and she's wise to them after the tooth debacle a few months ago.  So we can't hide them in her food anymore, we have to feed them to her directly.  Which consists of Mary holding her up, making sure she can't move her front paws, and me holding her head and poking the tablet down her throat.  Head -> Lion's mouth for sure.  I have eight and a half fingers left, and ten more tablets to give her.  Ow.

Ah!  Installer finished.  Must go.

That does it.

Part of my journey into work involves taking my bike on a train. Both my house and my office are a fair distance from the nearest station, so the bike is a necessity (having one expands the catchment area of a station by nine times according to official figures, apparently).

As part of the Glorious New Peoples Republic of Manchester Five-Year Transport Plan, the line on which I travel will be closed. Doctor Beeching's zombie appears to have seized control of GMPTE. It will be replaced (after a year of replacement bus services) by an extension of the Metrolink tram system.

Fair enough, there will still be a rail-based public transport route into North East Manchester. However, they don't allow bikes on trams, and they certainly don't allow them on buses. Therefore, the cycling part of my commute will expand from five miles each way to thirteen miles each way, and involve me riding through a part of Manchester that's usually on fire. Joy. Get a puncture there, and I'm dead.

So, enough is enough.  I refuse to be subject to the mad whims of chavvy bike shops and imbecile chauffeur-driven council mandarins, whose only experience of public transport is overtaking a bus in their limo, any longer. I'm going to get my motorcycle license.

Fortunately I already have a full (and clean, due to never being used) driving license, which means I don't have to take a theory test, and I'm over 21. So all I need to do is complete the Compulsory Basic Training, take the test on a 125cc capable of 100 mph or more, and I can instantly ride any bike. And I'll be able to give my girlfriend a lift into work as well. And motorbikes will be excluded from the congestion charge in Manchester.

So, congratulations Mr Green Public Transport Chief, you've driven me off the trains onto a private motorised vehicle. Well done you.

A couple of weeks ago, I must've ridden through a patch of broken glass on the way to work, because since then I've had five punctures, two on the same day.  After fixing each one I've dug yet more fragments of glass out of the tyres, and I finally decided that enough was enough and that I would buy some new ones.  These have been on the bike for at least a year anyway.

Now, my office is in Oldham.  It is, unquestionably, the armpit of the universe, with no redeeming features whatsoever.  A sullen little town full of narrow-minded cliques of outrageous stupidity and worldview that should be burnt to the ground to make the world that tiny bit nicer.  We have our office there because it is cheap, no other reason.

As you'd expect, it also contains an enormous branch of Halfords to keep the inbred chavs that live there supplied with expensive hatchback trinkets.  Ugh.  But they also have a bike shop attached.  So I went into the shop, found the tyre I needed, and asked for another one.  After ten minutes of the assistant searching in the back room, he was forced to admit that they didn't have any more in stock.  In fact, they didn't have more than one of any tyre in stock (and there were about twenty different varieties on the rack).  Apparently, people don't usually buy more than one tyre at a time.

I went and looked in a couple more bike shops, only to be told the same.  What the hell is wrong with these people?!  Surely both tyres on a bike degrade at a similar rate?  After all, they spread the weight of the rider equally between them, so surely it is logical that if one has worn out, the other one will have as well, and therefore both will need replacing at the same bloody time.  Good grief.  And none of the shops stocked proper bells either, just those crappy flick-hammer ones that no-one can hear.

So, new tyres will have to wait until Friday, when I'll get the time to go to the shop near the house which does stock more than just entire bikes for idiots that fall apart after six months.  And if they tell me that my rear assembly is worn down again, I'm going to get cross, because it isn't.

EDIT: The foolish spellchecker on LJ thinks I've spelt "tyre" wrongly.  Isn't there a UK English setting on this thing?  :P

Welp, the students are back in Manchester.  You can tell because the idiot content of the roads in the mornings just trebled.  Every time I got turned left on this morning it was by some just-passed-test teenaged gink in a bought-by-parents Punto.  And because the roads are full all the bus drivers are more sulky than normal too.  And add in the chaos caused by the fat political love-in at the GMex that's just ended, and you have a wonderful cycle in each morning.

Please car drivers, just bear this one simple fact in mind:

THERE MAY BE A CYCLIST ON YOUR LEFT, YOU FUCKWITS!
IS IT TOO MUCH TO ASK FOR YOU TO USE YOUR SODDING EYES?!

These are the type of people running your local bus service.

For your own sake, for the sake of us all, buy yourself a bike and let these deviant chancers and their ilk pine away from lack of money, and other vital fluids.

Thank you for your attention.