February 2006

[marathondan]

As for matters stylii and vinyl, isn't this the sort of thing that eBay was invented for? I've not looked, but I'd suspect there's a large market for both these things there. Take a look.

I just happened to be in the vicinity of eBay, and recalled your quest: try this.

[Sweder]

Cool, thanks Dan

I didn't reply to Andy's original post; one of the attractions of seeking out old vinyl, to me at least, is spending an hour or two rummaging through stacks of old sleeves to see what comes up.

However, when you absolutely have to have Black & White, E-Bay is indeed the dogs' cajones

[marathondan]

Yes, I did suspect that a man of your many talents would be able to type a couple of words into eBay - the recollection just popped into my head and I thought "just how rare is that album?" (Not all that, as it turns out.)

As well as denying one the pleasure of a good rummage, eBay does make it all too easy to spend £5,000,000,000 on stuff that you don't need, without leaving your desk (let alone interacting with another human).

[Sweder]

I've decided to enter the ConocoPhillips Rodeo Run in Houston on Saturday.
It's a 10k 'fun' run (although I've no doubt there will be many 'serious' runners involved). It's all for local charities and it'll keep me out of the pubs for a few hours at least.

Should be fun.
http://www.conocophillipsrodeorun.com/index.htm

[El Gordo]

Oh yes, now I remember you mentioning him last year. Is he the first star player to come out of Scotland? Pardon my ignorance...

No worries, I'm certainly even more ignorant of tennis. We've had plenty of great Scottish sportsmen and women (particularly footballers, though few in recent years, and of course golfers) but I can't think of any Scottish tennis players at all.

To be honest, I thought the Murray thing was largely hype, but to beat Roddick and Hewitt at the age of 18, well, you have to sit up and listen now....

[Sweder]

Unable to feed my habit this morning.
I've a 9.30 engagement in The Smoke with the good people from Wrigley's to discuss moving large quantities of gum to various parts of the globe.

Will try to slip in an evening road run. Traveling tomorrow and a 10k on Saturday (work on Sunday) this looks like being the worst week of the year so far. Or it could be just the rest I need at this stage . . .

[Nigel]

Nice work in Brighton, Sweder. You got me by 6 seconds now.

Have a grand trip to Houston - looks like a blast in that Rodeo Run.

[Sweder]

Yeah, the Rodeo Run looks like a fun event.
I went along to sign up at Luke's Locker on West Gray this evening. Lots of bubbly young Texan Gals in Rodeo Run T-shirts to help me find my way to the self-sign-up desks. Clutching my goodie bag (including tent-like XL shirt) I took time to peruse Luke's Locker; oh dear God, I've discovered running shoppers' Nirvana.

The store was closing but I will have to return after the race - they're open Saturday and Sunday, natch. I had no idea there were so many running gizmos on offer! 78 types of refreshment carrier (including head-mounted), all improbably flavours of sports gels, a myriad of nipple protection devices not to mention acres of the latest trail shoes, vests, running suits . . . I could (and will) go on.

For now it's a new version of beat the clock for me - try and stay awake beyond 9.30pm so I don't wake up before 5 am. I've always managed no problem travelling west-bound; however, I usually enlist the aid of a lively bar. With the ConocoPhillips Rodeo Run kicking off early doors tomorrow that's not on the agenda.

The forecast, for those avid followers of the weather, is . . .


. . . wet. A-gain. Boring!
BUT it is not going to be cold (allegedly) . . . hooray for humidity.
Should be, as Nigel says, a blast.
You'll hear it here first.

[Sweder]

I will write a full report of this most excellent event in the next few days.
The race through Downtown Houston is the prelude to a full-on parade to start the Houston Rodeo, a three week equine extravaganza. If the aftermath of yesterdays' rain-lashed festivities is anything to go by, rose-growers in the State of Texas will have a field day; I have never seen so much horseshit in my life, and that includes watching The Premiership last season.

A swift summary for now.
Rain, and lots of it. Wind, too. What's rain without howling wind to drive it into your face? Fairly warm though, around 55 degrees (OK MLCMan, temperature is relative; it's been foul in the UK recently).

Superbly organised event; 6,400 participants in a combined 10k race, 5 k race/ walk.

Finished in 48:07.
Happy enough with that but the full story needs to be told, and will be as soon as I get a chance. For now it's hi-ho, hi-ho, and off to work I go . . .

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

Fairly warm though, around 55 degrees (OK MLCMan, temperature is relative; it's been foul in the UK recently).

MLC Man shakes his head in disbelief...

... good time though Mr.Sweder ...

... especially in such cold weather

[El Gordo]

Well done for managing the run in such inhospitably roasting temperatures, Sweder. Hope you've recovered from such a life-threatening, furnace-like experience.

I'm just back from the pub, after watching Man Utd stroll to a 4-0 win against Wigan in the Carling Cup Final. As a relative neutral, I was disappointed. I wanted to see a close match, drama, red cards, disputed penalties, the lot, but didn't get it. You'll be pleased though...

[Sweder]

Oddly not as pleased as you might suppose.
I had the good fortune to listen in to the 5Live commentary via the internet. The Texan installation crew were left bemused by the tinny garbling of messrs Green, Ingham and Lawrensen, more so by my muted celebrations as the goals flew in.

But as I'd said before the match, strange though it sounds I'd have liked Wigan to have won. Sounds like treachery, perhaps, or even disrespect for what was once the Fizzy Cup; it's neither, more a desire to see the underdog have his day, and to know that it is still possible for one of the 'lesser' (in terms of finance) teams to walk off with some silverware. It appears as though those days are truly gone, and bodes ill for the FA Cup which seems destined to be faught over by Liverpool and Chelski.

I must admit to having a wry smile over the non-performance of Jason Roberts though. Wigan moved heaven and earth (and premiership fixtures) to ensure Roberts' recent ban expired before the final. Nice touch with the tribute to 'Smudger'. There's a decent team spirit at United, albeit not shared currently by Horse Van Nistelrooy. Saha deserved his place, having scored in every round. That didn't soften the blow for the Dutch master; you could almost hear the taunts from the Wigan fans:
'Hey Ruud - why the long face?'

I really will write that 10k report soon . . . it's just that I can hear this distant voice calling me away to margaritaville . . .

[Sweder]

. . . oh, alright then, let's call a spade a spade - hangover.

I love Houston and Houston loves me. It’s just that reliving my life of 20 years ago (when I arrived here wide-eyed and green around the gills) even on a less-committed scale, is taking it’s toll. Throw in the occasional bout of actual work and there’s little time left for writing.

Yesterday I had several hours of free time allocated to compiling my report. Instead I went to Fire Station number Three on West Alabama and Westleyan to hang out with my old pal Lisa and her firefighting buddies. I'll never complain about hard work again. Lisa's a paramedic firefighter - they have a funky system where paramedics are assigned to each emergency service. On a 24 hour shift the two on-duty crews received 22 shouts between them. Lisa’s crew, having responded to the first call at 05:20 got back to Fire Station Three at just shy of 6pm.

As an overseas visitor I was privileged to hang out in the rec room as the crew wolfed down fried shrimps and oysters collected en route from the Ragin Cajinfast food store. What a sight tat must have been – they crew a full-sized multiple axle Fire Engine - that's some drive-thru. The last few congealed fries were barely stowed when the automated alarm system announced another call. Still discussing where they were going to stash a large portion of catfish (for the olfactory benefit of C shift, due on tomorrow morning) they calmly donned their gear and headed for the Engine. Once aboard a sort of super-SatNav feeds them instructions on the nature and location of the emergency. On this occasion a local resident’s kitchen alarm had detected a pan fire, the fully automated system linking through to the Firestation HQ.

I stood in the dining area of the rec room watching the swing door rock to a close and it dawned on me that I was the only person there (Crew #2 were at Hermann Hospital dropping off a smoke inhalation victim). Blimey.
Then the phone rang.
I froze; do I answer it? I did.

‘Er, Fire Station Three . . .’ please, please, let this be trivial.
‘Hello? Is Lisa there?’
I recognised the voice; phew! Bill, Lisa’s impossibly handsome Fire Captain and significant other of the past several years, calling on a domestic matter.
‘Hello Bill’ – relieved – ‘It’s Ash. They’re out on a shout. I’m, err, it.’
‘Well – you’re in charge of the (TV) remote then.’

I left the empty Firehouse to take up my duties as designated driver for the ITM show management team, my clients here. After three hours at a private function at Sambuca, Houston’s trendy and excellent Jazz café, where exotic shots mingled effortlessly with superb live Rythmn & Blues as we danced like crazed loons, I loaded three rather lovely young English Roses, all considerably the worse for wear, and took them on a classic rock-fuelled tour of my second home. By 1 am they had all fallen in love with a variety of local characters and bars, making me promise that we can do it all again tonight. As we rolled along the deserted downtown streets in my car-come-boat, the ladies chomping on their compulsory Whataburgers, the inevitable happened; Bohemian Rhapsody on the radio.

‘Heeey!’ the girls squealed in unison. ‘Turn it UP!!!’
We were perilously close to the hotel by now, so I did the honourable thing and drove laps around the city blocks as the ladies obliterated the lyrics with some enthused caterwauling followed by committed head-banging in a Wayne’s World stylee. And yes, I did think to myself as we drove past slack-jawed late-night party-goers strolling back to their hotels in our gently rocking ship of fools, life is great.

We’re planning a night out tonight where my worlds here will collide.
A de-mob happy Firecrew D will meet up with foot-weary exhibition organisers and trip the light fantastic around the bars and ice-houses of this great city. We'll be taking Taxis.

Today is Fat Tuesday, more commonly known in this Gulf Coast region as Mardi Gras.
Don’t expect you’ll be seeing that race report any time soon . . .