cycling on a dodgy tire

"...a nod of mutual agreement about anything in-particular to the heavily built second-hand-dealing, and balding giant, who is a frequenter of Christchurch's garage sales..."

Yesterday I looked at the tire of my brother's bike. The back tire was looking a bit dodgy. the canvas was starting to show through, and the tube was bulging out a bit. Early this morning when I looked at the front tire, I saw that it, too was almost at the end of it's journey, so to speak.

...I drifted into semi-conciousness. automatically raising my wrist to infront of my face, where I could read my watch, I saw that it was 6:40am or thereabouts. Quickly pulling on my brother's pair of shorts, that are getting close to the length of a pair of 3/4's, but not quite. Pulling my jersey with the t-shirt still inside it from last night, over my head, I stood up. My 70's as, and very comfortable flowery orange mattress was on the floor. screwing up my duvet and large double sheet, which, when folded over does the job, and threw it between the large inset wardrobe, and the other clothes cupboard, - ontop of a box with some other clothes on it. My pillow followed suit. Folding the mattress in half with my foot, I was able to open the bedroom door and head for the bathroom. Just a few drops of cold water.

And dammit, I've got a sore throat. Drinking a couple of handfulls of the water doesn't help. Deciding that socks would be wise, I head back into my room and find a clean pair of sports socks that almost match. Ready for whatever the day might throw at me, I went down to the kitchen to unpack the dishwasher. Having got the dishwasher out of the way, it was time to check out the Garage Sales in the Buy-Sell. With a well laid out list of half a dozen or so promising looking Garage sales, I was just about ready to go. Back in my room again, I pulled on my Jeans, tightening the belt one notch more than I did usually. strapping my helmet over my NY cap, and having put the list I'd made, and the mapbook out of the car into my backpack, I walked to the front door.

Lifeless and heavy, sullen and all-enveloping, the mist hit me. With not even a look back at the closing wooden door behind me, I strode into the forboding environment. Almost blivious to the rain drenched seat, and briefly wiping some of the water off with my hand, I pulled the bike out of it's stand and jumped on. The sponge handle-bar covers were pleasently soaked. It was about 7:15 as I pulled out of our driveway. a few minutes later, as I pedalled furiously down Maidstone Road, (a straight and long road, heading towards where I was), I slowed my pace a bit. Putting my earphones in my ears, I then (fool-hardily) pulled out my iPod and stuck the 3 1/4 jack into it, - which made the screen light up. I think it was Ray Comfort who was speaking, but it was too early in the morning for evangalical motivation, so I switched to Poor Old Lu

First stop, 111 Maidstone Road. This garage sale was not a little bit a complete and utterly miserable failure, and so with little more than a nod of mutual agreement about anything in-particular to the heavily built second-hand-dealing, and balding giant, who is a frequenter of Christchurch's garage sales, I thanked my hosts and lost no time getting on my way...

Raxworthy Tune

Exclusive from the Raxfiles
and here by popular demand
we bring you the RaxTune

what are the raxfiles? what's all this about?

Darren Raxworthy here - whats the go?
Ask me lad - Yo - I'm in the know.
Yo - every chance you get you blow.
Take it nice and easy bro.
Come on kid, on with the show.
Don't go fast, you gotta go slow.

Raxworthy Yo!
Whats the go?
Keep it up bro
Make the show

Most of them say go with the flow
Ask the guys who earn their dough
They don't hang their jeans down low
All wear their fluro glasses though.
Come on kid, let's do this bro
We'll get the job done even so.

Raxworthy Yo!
Whatda go?
Keep up bro
Make da show

The Midas Touch

"...The very youngest, meanwhile, desperately hanging on to her daddy's back pockets..."

This afternoon, Mum and I crashed a 50th Wedding Anniversary, which, I am led to believe, is more commonly termed: "Golden Anniversary". Seeing as the celebration was over in Dallington Area (Breezes Road), I typed this up on the drive home. Mum helped me out with, you know, wording some of the more tricky parts of it... It was real funny, in the (church) hall, after the celebration, seeing the young children (not a few), darting round the crowded hall. In stark contrast to the majority of the population who appeared to be chronologically challenged...

violently repelling the milling throng of hunger-stricken pale faced children and toddlers, the elderly men formed perimeters around the heavily laden tables. Without pausing for any pleasentries and seemingly oblivious to the hopful, tear stained complexions of a generation beyond their venerable comprehension, the men set to their task.

In one corner of the modestly decorated, and well lighted room, 5 younglings between the ages of 10 and 2 sat obediently, their subdued impatience just showing through the older two's faces. The next two youngest of the group of children, ever looking up to their big brother and sister, also were looking expectantly at the several tables that the room boasted. The very youngest, meanwhile, desperately hanging on to her daddy's back pockets.

I happened a glance around the busy room, noticing one or two of the more adventurous women, who, still in the higher end of the age bracket, were venturing forward to the tables. Daddy glanced at his wife, and with almost imperceptible eye movement, the mutual agreement was concreted. With an equally low level of emotion showing, Daddy raised his head, signalling his prodgeny that they were at liberty to "tuck in".

Like so many racing hounds being released from their cages onto the track, the mangled half-corpse of a rabbit alluring them, exhorting them to greater efforts, the children sped to the tables...

the elusive character returns...

"...he shows just the slightest weakness; turning up the collar of his well weathered Rodd&Gunn jacket..."

An almost remorseful, longing look back at the door, then stoically turning his head and setting off into the blinding rain, the foul expanse of nothingness which lay before him. Oblivious to the violent storm, he shows just the slightest weakness; turning up the collar of his well weathered Rodd&Gunn jacket, enabling the biting particles of what is commonly called rain to impact with the back of his neck and almost unnoticably but systematically, collectively drench the back of his t-shirt. And you guessed it, because beneath his jacket, and beneath his brother's "neo-esque" "physically pin-striped" navy jersy, was the Santorini t-shirt, promoting, as always, the idea that consuming vast quantities of Ouzo was what kept the wearer going.

Two comments of arbitrary point and value were made to the Chinese man at the bus-stop, who did not deign to respond. Taking the unambiguous seat a few behind the driver, he settled down for the short trip, attempting the impossible: one or two moments of rest to make up for his troubled, horror-stricken night of sleeplessness.

A very poor bus-driver who should not have been given the job patted the accelerator and, when turning right at an intersection, would invariably turn into the right hand lane if it was empty. Only until a car, came down the right hand lane towards the bus would the driver wake from his reverie and pull into the correct lane on the left hand side of the road...

to be continued - if level of demand has an inversely proportional relationship to the enjoyment I would take from continuing...

to the days

1107 hours 06.04.06

"...at the un-just time of 715 hours, his accursed alarm shattered a blissful but meaningless dream..."

Deftly flicking the lid of his laptop up, the elusive character paused to think. The laptop, a Toshiba TE2100, showed that this man had taste, but not enough experience to be as elite as his exterior, his mannerisms and appearence would appear to mirror. (The TE2100 though having the coveted TOSHIBA badge, is not infact made by Toshiba - and is of cheaper design and manufacture, than, say, the Satelite or the all-powerful Qosimo)The fact that he was wearing his younger (but slightly taller and more solid) brother's ex-army jersy says a fair bit as well. The cuffs fair down over his wrists where they should probably have been tucked under. The black t-shirt advertising the Greek Resteraunt in Town is hidden by the jersy, so the people behind him don't realise that it's Ouzo this guy is running on. He's wearing a pair of jeans (size 32) (the belt helps), which, slightly flared, cover his Jandals ($9.99 at the Warehouse). This is without a shadow of doubt, a man of fashion - his finger's obviously on the pulse, two or three steps ahead of most of the other first year students in the room, (although they probably think he's quite behind them). We left this elusive and well-dressed man, pausing to think. Even as he pulls the USB wireless card out of his bag and carefully but directly reaches round the back of his laptop plugging it in (the result of many years of practice), the thought hits him - "why am I here?". Why is this man here? Because he woke up in the morning and came here.

At the un-just time of 715 hours, his accursed alarm shattered a blissful but meaningless dream. Roughly dragging his body accross the edge of his sleeping platform, he leaned over the side, hands on the floor, till he could reach the red cabinet. Silencing the vile noise, he pulled himself back under his duvet...

To the falsetto lyrics of a couple of Chris Martin's earlier and better songs, and concerned about the battery level in his mp3 player, the tired man shot off down the long and unforgiving Maidstone Road. As always, it was pedal to the metal and just the one goal in mind - the journey back to base. A quick stop at the best little bakery in New Zealand, this involves a painfully long wait for three women, obviously each striving to attain the stereotype of the middle-aged upper middle class woman, ordering and or waiting for their coffees.

With the four cheese and bacon knots securely stowed in his bag, the man was ready for anything the day might throw at him...

Anything, but the Management Science lecture!