Category: Photos

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Plain English

Looking back on the day as I sit here towards the end of the evening, my run this morning seems like an age ago.

I had sat looking at a business challenge from a fresh perspective (anything rather than run) whilst I tried to coax myself out of sleep with a couple of quadspressos.  Ironically the reason for my eventual departure was that I got so high on the fumes from the marker pen I was using, that I had to get some air!

Extending the fresh perspective into my route, I headed down to Worlds End and out along Rocky Lane to the viaduct.

Passing underneath I ran to the fish ponds, with it’s fishing men and deep run-off area…

… and then on to the London Road at Fairplace Hill before running out around the ring road.

It never fails to amaze me that the ring road wasn’t designed to have a pavement, particularly as there is a sports centre half way around.  I ran on the verge, where there was one and otherwise on the road, until the point where the local council has installed a cinder track in the field adjacent to the road.

At the point where the ring road joins the London Road again, I continued straight on, across the fields…

… to the Keymer Road and a short run home again.

7.85 miles in 1.18 gives a speed just over 6mph.

Today was a normal Sunday chore day (not all of which are really chores, of course) but this evening we went to the Fountain in Plumpton to watch an awesome new band called Plain English.  A random guy, standing listening in front of us by the entrance to the packed pub, summed up how good they were in a really most eloquent way: ‘Plain English, you say?  They’re the dogs b*****ks!’

And you can’t say it plainer than that!

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Aroma Sensation

Before I start, I’d just like to mention the beautiful aroma of honeysuckle and pinks in the garden at the moment.  In the evenings, when the air is still, it is simply magical to walk out there, as is sitting in the tea-house in the mornings.

I’ve had another one of those manic weekends.  You know the kind, where you seem to achieve a lot?  And this despite feeling so drained on Friday night that I did little but read and sleep.

Saturday I finished painting the outside of the house, putting a second coat on the upstairs back, the bit downstairs that I’d missed last weekend and a coat on the back of next door’s garage.  I’ve since realised that there are some silly window returns that could probably do with another coat, but to all intents & purposes, I have finished.

Then I trimmed the front hedge and cut the grass (Kim had already cut around all the edges) and painted a coat of white gloss on the garage door frame, before I started on…. the garage itself!

Clutter has gradually been building over the last few months, exacerbated by one or two DIY projects and the more recent arrival of Karen’s stuff while she’s away.

The beginning of the garage project started with my trying to find the white gloss paint amongst a hundred other pots… five deep and stacked three or four high on the bottom deck of the bench.  All whilst peering over the bags of stuff on the floor in front.

I speculatively eyed up the cabinets that sit on the bench and almost before I had a chance to think, the boxed contents were stacked on the floor and the tins of paint were being organised onto eye-level shelves.

The project paused last night, as we went to see Inception (Leonardo DiCaprio) – you can read about it via the link, but I have to report that it is truly excellent… a real mind-warper on a par with Vanilla Sky.

The combination of garage dust and widescreen cinema left me with really dry eyes this morning and I strained to be able to read as I sat in the tea-house with first one, then a second quadspresso.  The exertions of painting, hedge trimming etc also left me feeling stiff and I was sore tempted not to run… only the thought of an empty blog spurred me to action.

Intending to only run my normal short route, I left my water-bottle behind and set off, quickly finding myself at Ote Hall where people were emerging from the remnants of a wedding party.

At Slugwash Lane, after a brief chat to the Alpacas, I remembered seeing a modernist house (one of my passions) being constructed last year and so ran down past it to have a look, continuing on along a delightful wooded path which wove gradually back up the hill.

At the top there is a delightful place I have been before, or should I say, got lost at (at least) twice before.  Fortunately I now know which way to go!

And when I got back to the path I’d been on before I detoured, there was yet another pretty scene.

I dropped down into Wivelsfield and took the bridle path to Hundred Acre Lane that we raced up last week, then chose to continue on through the woods to Ditchling Common Industrial Estate.

Then it was back down the Magical Path & across the Common to home.

The convoluted circuit was 8.5 miles and I completed it in 1.22, a gentle speed of 6.2mph.

After breakfast and a snooze on the sun lounger, the garage task continued for much of the day.  I can now SEE my bench (well, the edge of it at any rate), whilst all my painting, tiling, plastering stuff is hidden away behind closed doors.  I’ll need some plastic boxes to neaten up the new contents of the lower level, but it’s okay.

I also mixed up some PVA & water to try to better seal the concrete floor, starting under the bench… thank goodness for those new painting pads on long sticks which are very effective.

Now I’m off to bed, but not before wandering back out into the garden for another aroma-sensation!

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Wivelsfield Woodland Wobble, part d’ugh

Somehow (don’t ask!), after a round of toast, a shower and another quadspresso, and with the weather now remarkably cloudy and cool, I found myself back in Wivelsfield on the start line of the 4.5-mile Wivelsfield Woodland Wobble.

The cooler turn of weather had been one of the reasons for me changing my mind, but as I stood waiting for the off, so the sun came back out and the temperature and humidity notched back up a gear.  Also, as I looked around me, there was a sea of different AC shirts… this was not going to be a walk in the park on any front.

The whistle sounded and we were off… in fact, about half the field just disappeared in a cloud of dust.  I settled into a more enjoyable pace, doing my best to shake loose of a girl listening to her iPlayer who clearly didn’t realise just, er, how shall we say this delicately… how laboured her breathing sounded.

Once clear I found an ideal carrot to follow – for those of you not in the Men’s Sussex Fitness League, this is generally a female bottom (or in the case of the paradoxical women members, a male one), although in my case a simple ponytail is a much better lure.

This particular Steyning Runners ponytail was perfect insofar that her pace was just faster than I wanted to go… I hung on as best I could, but she eventually got the better of me around the 4-mile mark.

In the dim and distant past, when I was younger and fitter, I would count down 3.5 minutes from the last mile marker and then start sprinting.  Being now more circumspect, older and definitely not as fit, I counted down two minutes from the last half-mile marker and then started merely to stretch my stride out a little.  With my long legs, this tactic enabled me to catch and pass the Steyning ponytail as she legged it down the final straight… sorry!

Even without a flat-out sprint I kind of just wanted to retch, but looking around at the gentile ensemble with their children milling around, I was persuaded that this was probably not a great idea.  Instead I spied a man with enough brains to sit on a covered bench, out of the now hot sun and I staggered across to join him.

Colin, it turned out, had only taken up running a couple of months ago having turned 50 and after a shoulder operation.  The fact that he had already taken up residence on the bench indicated that this injured newbie, four years my senior, had just beaten me round the course… curses!  But I forgave him on account of him turning out to be a bally nice chap!

It also turned out that he had joined the Burgess Hill Runners, which made me think that maybe I should cramp Kim’s style by joining up too.

So results to follow, but 4.5 miles in around 38 minutes… say 7mph.  Not fast, but not bad for my second wobble of the day!

Just one final mention in case you’re thinking that age or infirmity is some kind of barrier to getting out in the fresh air.  As I started my final charge to the line, so I left behind a guy from Haywards Heath Harriers who had pretty effortlessly kept up with me to that point.  I’ve run with him before (I think his name is Mark, but I’m not certain) and he is blind.  He was running with his own ponytail guide who was verbalising the course, which is largely off-road, as she went.  All I can say is Bravo!

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Wivelsfield Woodland Wobble, part one

After a slightly more intense (not to mention hot, as their air conditioning had broken down) than normal 9-hour immersion session with a new client on Friday, followed by an almost 2-hour return rail journey, I did very little yesterday other than read, relax and, um, sleep.  And very restful it was too, laying on the recliner in the heat of the afternoon, imagining I could hear the swish of the waves gently lapping at the beach.

Until about 6pm when the heat dropped sufficiently for action-Foster to dash a second coat on most of the back wall of the house.

This morning, despite rising relatively early, I was captivated by my new book (Robin Dunbar is right when he says that we are fascinated by people and behaviour… this book is about the behaviour of the small number of people who drove the recent financial meltdown and it is riviting) and didn’t emerge to run until 7.40am, by which time it was already hot.  My intentions had been grandiose, but I soon realised, having run in the open as far as Ote Hall, that I needed to find some tree-cover lest I melt.

Thus I found myself running through Wivelsfield as the Burgess Hill Runners were setting up the course for this morning’s Wivelsfield Woodland Wobble.  It was a shame I didn’t know it was on as I might have run it, but starting at 11am it would surely be a scorcher and I was already feeling somewhat humid.

I headed for home through the cool shelter of the Magical Path, covering 6.2 miles in 1 hour exactly.

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Good & Early

I was due to help a neighbour move a concrete shower tray (double-size) at 8.40am this morning so I got out good and early for a short run.  I’ve not run for two weeks and I think that a combination of heat over that time and no exercise has been leading to a little unusual lethargy first thing in the morning… and also  to my eyes starting to shut around 9.30pm.

It was almost not a good start, as I managed to switch off my alarm without waking up and it was fortunate that Kim nudged me awake at 6.30am.  I sat and woke up with the usual quadspresso and the current book, which is about evolution and language… it’s not as dry as you might think and I was so engrossed that I almost ran out of time, only making it out the door at 7.20am.

I took my favourite little circuit (Royal Oak, Wivelsfield, West Wood, Magical Path) and it was a truly beautiful morning to be out and about, especially as it was still cool enough to run.  Nothing of any import occurred, although I did manage to get 47 minutes of good random thinking time over the 5.2 miles… not that I can now remember particularly what was going through my head, but it was very pleasant.

Having showered and helped move the (heavy!) tray, I set about putting a first coat of paint on the penultimate house wall… I had completed the previous wall on Saturday before we went out to a brilliant party in Hartfield.  With the wall drying, the brushes washed and the sun high and hot in the sky, I sat down to read in the tea-house… alas, not for long.

Somehow, Kim drew my attention to a blue trellis on the big final wall and I set about removing it with gusto… after which it was an easy step to get the paint back out.  I’ve no idea how long it took me to put the first coat on, but somewhere in the region of four hours and rather than a restful and relaxed afternoon I had planned, I spent it pumped up, basted and lightly grilled on gas mark 8.  Still, at least it’s a step closer to the end and it’s going to look great!

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Twenty years

Life is seldom dull and this week was no exception, especially as it ended with a performance of Midsummer Night’s Dream performed in the open air near Wivelsfield for the benefit of St Peter & St James Hospice.  It plays until the 26th June and I highly recommend it, although if you go, I hope for the sake of the players, that it doesn’t rain.  The clouds were gathering as we arrived and the heavens opened mid way through the first half.  We were sitting in comfortable chairs in covered marquees, but the players got doused, not that it affected their smiles and good nature in the least.

Today is the London to Brighton Bike ride, which once again falls on Fathers Day and makes it difficult for me to visit mine!  Happy Fathers Day Dad!

I like to try to get to the top of Ditchling Beacon to share some of their pain (and delight), so I was up early to give me a chance to get there before it got too hot.  The day dawned beautiful but I confess shock when I got outside in my shorts to find that it wasn’t really all that warm!

I ran down to Ditchling via Oldlands Mill and saw my first lone cyclist, who laughed when I asked if he was a front runner… it was 8.30am and the fast guys had been through an hour earlier!

I ran up onto the Beacon… it must have been a while as it was hard work, but I stuck with it and managed to get there without needing to stop.

After some banter with the marshals, who were running around trying to fix the PA system to give encouragement to people as they cycled, or walked up the hill, I headed back via Sporting Cars of Brighton, East End Lane and the path that goes to Ditchling Common Industrial Estate.

I was looking forward to running down the Magical Path, but by the time I got there the clouds had rolled in and it was cold, dark and miserable.  I guess everyone is entitled to their off days!

So 10.75 miles in 1.51.  6mph on the way there (which is pretty good as it includes the Ditchling Beacon climb) but only 5.66mph on the return which reflects how little I have been running lately… also suggested by my need for a nap on the sofa when I returned!

That would be that, but I am reminded that it is twenty years since I actually rode in the London to Brighton bike ride and I thought I would reflect briefly on what has changed in my life, since that time.

I had just bought my first house in June 1990, with the help of my sister. It was a first rung on the housing ladder which I intended to keep for three years.

I valiantly defended my two handkerchiefs of grass from my green-fingered father: one at the front with two small shrubs and one at the back with a shed. Not for me all these plants and stuff: give me grass any day of the week! There were two runs of concrete on which to park my red company Ford Escort and once inside the thin porch, the dominant colour was professionally applied magnolia with expensive curtains, one benefit of buying the house from an ambitious young banker.

I had a lodger, Dawn, who initially slept on the floor, as did I, the only furniture in the house being a sofa that came from my best friend and a wooden coffee table from an antique shop. The latter supported the Rega turntable that half my music revolved around, the other half involving my twelve-string guitar.

I sold Commercial Finance for NWS, which entailed me visiting the myriad small & medium sized businesses across West Sussex and providing the finance for them to buy cars, vans, machinery.  Even then I had a greater interest in what these companies actually did (which often made my work frustrating), something that I had picked up from both my father and from another Mr Foster, Ken, who had employed me in his art gallery a couple of years earlier. Ken had been the FD of a well known travel company and had eventually negotiated its distressed sale for one pound Sterling… a startling and fascinating concept for someone like me, who knew little of business at the time.

Each week I borrowed a lawn mower from my very kind neighbour, Pam (who I went to visit only this week) to cut my grass, me not being able to afford to buy one. I often also cut the grass of the attached house on the other side as it was generally unkempt due to being sporadically rented out. My skills with any other tools, garden or otherwise, left much to be desired.

What has changed since then?  Life in the intervening years has certainly been interesting and there have been both high and low points, the latter including losing three really very good friends, one to Cancer, one sadly to suicide and another to his own avarice.

I sold my first house after 15 years (remember, I had intended to stay there for three), although I also bought, lived in for four years and sold a London flat during that time, enabling me to study for an Executive MBA at London Business School. I have now lived in my current house for five years (with my girlfriend of ten years!).

My father patiently (oh so patiently!) taught me to garden which, aside from considerably enhancing my surroundings at both houses, has instilled a much valued patience in me too. My treasured hi-fi has been sold and replaced with the kind of micro system (now itself old-fashioned) that I would have laughed at before. And I have stuff, lots of stuff, which for someone who is a minimalist at heart is fascinating. I wonder if we are hard wired to accumulate things until we have filled every nook & cranny.

I now work with the type of companies I visited twenty years ago, getting to ask those more searching questions and adding value by helping them to overcome their challenges or develop differentiated business strategies. My own current business is young and I earn even less than I did back then but my life is evolving, just as Charles Handy suggested it would in his book the Elephant and the Flea, into a portfolio of interests. Each of which I’m really passionate about in a driven way.

My Porsche of eight years sits on the driveway that I designed, while I sit and read (and once again today, type) in the tea-house that I also designed and patiently made.  I have time to read and to think, which is how I perceive I add the greatest value to my clients.  It’s the kind of lifestyle I might have only dreamed about twenty years ago. Not perfect, by any stretch of the imagination, but I’m very happy with it.

Though I really wonder what life will be like for me in another twenty years time?

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Picture this

Picture me, if you will, sitting peacefully in the tea-house, lap-top on lap, cup of Earl Grey to… er, hang on just a minute.  As I was saying, picture me in the tea-house with a cup of Earl Grey to hand, penning this very line and appreciating the fruits of yesterday’s labour: The big hedge which I gently manicured (with the aid of a hedge-trimmer), the clear roof of the tea-house, which I washed and hosed down, and the tall bamboo panels in the corner ahead of me as I sit, which I removed and replaced straight as they had been knocked sideways by my neighbours replacing their own garden fence.

I did one or two other things and the general combination sent me to sleep on the sofa around 8.30pm… from this point, aside from getting up and going to bed, I slept for 11.5 hours straight and woke this morning in a slightly groggy frame of body.

Nevertheless, after a banana, a good strong coffee and an hour spent reading the Economist, I sallied forth in my liveried running kit.  Cliff had been unable to run this morning and while I briefly flirted with the idea of driving to Jack & Jill, it was simpler to run straight from the house.  Mindful that my last two runs were short ones around the same circuit, I determined to go a different way and for slightly longer.

I ran out past Ote Hall and to the small hamlet around Wivelsfield Church, where even the public footpaths are well kept.

I then ran past the quizzical Alpacas (although I always think of them as Debbs Pyjamas, so convinced was I that this American friend of Darens was hallucinating about what she had seen on a walk around the local countryside!)

As I ran to Wivelsfield itself and out the other side, I reflected how beautiful the countryside around here really is.

I ran most of the way down Hundred Acre Lane before cutting across to the industrial estate and on down the Magical Path.

From here it was only a short way home across the common.

Overall it was a very pleasant run indeed and though I was alone (as you can be with dog-walkers, cyclists and other runners on a warm June day), it was gratifyingly less like the target-driven training runs that typified the first four months of the year!  This was reflected in the 1.13 that it took me to cover 7.45 beautiful miles (a slumberous 6.12mph).

Tea finished, I must away and find a chore or two to do, lest I can’t get to sleep on the sofa this evening.

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Flora & sauna

Cliff had thrown down a gauntlet of sorts yesterday by suggesting that I could (in part) redeem my relay-absence by running the Seaford half-marathon, scheduled to start at 9am this morning.

So 8.45am found me ready for the off for the first time in a month.  Alas, I was nowhere near Seaford at all!

Instead, I ran my lovely little short circuit and was glad… glad that I hadn’t run in the heat of yesterday and glad that I hadn’t been so stupid as to rise to Cliff’s gauntlet.  Why?  Because, despite the comparative coolness of the morning, it was super humid out there after the torrential rain last night.

I was also glad to be back in the lush greenness of the UK!

5.2 miles in 44 minutes, despite the humidity and the lack of practice… not a bad first outing, but I fear that I’m going to have to come up with some better excuses if I’m going to skive off any more big races!

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Home via the North-West passage

Observant readers will have realised that the East coast to which I have referred in the last few posts is not in the UK.  Geographically it is probably closer to the Eastbourne that Captain Daren has sailed off so comprehensively.

As I boomeranged back to the UK from my time away, I managed to catch up with Kim in Dubai for a few days where, again, I engaged in no running at all.  This time the reason was more practical than sheer laziness… it was 85 degrees outside.

If that doesn’t sound too bad, then I should point out that this was the temperature at night… the days were around 101.  We managed one two-mile evening walk along the beach and one daytime walk of a similar distance where we periodically dived into any buildings with aircon (on both occasions we ended up in need of wringing out) and I kid you not… this is no place to run!

That’s not strictly true.  Christine, one of my LBS buddies who lives there, runs quite frequently… at 4.30 in the morning!  We did see one or two other runners, one of whom was risking more than sunstroke by running in the midday sun in what looked like a tennis dress.  Dubai is positively relaxed for an Arab state, but the showing of knees and shoulders by ladies is still not encouraged and this tennis skirt was skimpier still.

Russell, our excellent host was… well, a truly excellent host.  Where we had discovered the heat, the construction and the ubiquitous sand for ourselves, he showed us the cool, the finished and the green.

Of course, wafting us around in the leathered luxury of his air-conditioned Discovery was always going to frame the city in a different way to our earlier oven-mark-9 bipeding!

So, having not run for around a month, it was purely by chance that I returned to the UK too late to join with the guys in running a relay race along the South Downs yesterday… sorry guys!  To be fair, I did think of them periodically as I dodged the heat of the afternoon sun, although moral wasn’t the support that they apparently had in mind!

I watered the garden in the hope that the the semi-concrete surface would soften sufficiently to soak up some of the rain that had been forecast for last night… if I had known how torrential the rain was going to be I probably wouldn’t have bothered but the fickle weather is just one of the reasons that I’m glad to be home!