The holy children of the sacred combine harvesters came to our rescue once again(Hugh, Lee and Patrick Schneider); the 4 Dobermans took to me like a plastic duck to a pool of boiling water, but we had a gas fired barbecue, bacon, sausages, marinated chicken, pasta, fosters and a luminous blue shower. Obviously it rained, but we are used to sods, Murphy's , or whoever's bloody law it is we seem to abide by.
Ed was awoken many times in the night by Teeta's coughing, the cockerel and screeching owls(not necessarily in that order) and I slept straight through.
The final London stretch to London included,
1. A drive-through MacDonald's (we ordered 2 cokes to share between 11)
2. A stop-off at Lords (my sister has a majority share in a cricket bat)
3. BBC 1 Extra exploitation
4. Picadilly circus (nearly dying)
5. Match funding fishing (basically lassoing any Deloitte employees and tying them to the bike using dental floss).
It was lovely to be home - I tucked Miss CoBi up in bed and I took the floor (she is playing very hard to get, even after entering me).
Friday, 20 August 2010
Thursday, 19 August 2010
CoBi Offensive
The Barcelo Hotel very kindly put us up the night before, and they let us park Miss CoBi in the foyer, which caused quite a stir among the coach touring guests. The 84 year old Walter was quick to jump into the saddle for a photograph, and went on to tell us of his cycling days since passed (as a boy he would cycle 100 miles a day down the deserted war-time lanes, shooting rabbits for supper).
In the morning a large crowd of about 30 gathered outside the hotel, which must count as our biggest send-off yet; they sang a short refrain of 'we'll meet again' as we pedalled with all our might towards Hemel Hempstead.
We had a really rather racy relay team, so there was lots of swapping on and off which kept the pace up nice and high. The girls screamed louder than a lobster in boiling water as we came down a few of the hills, and Chris (Teeta) lost his trainer in frenzied roundabout pedalling. I accidentally got us onto another dodgy dual carriageway into Milton Keynes ; talk about out of the frying pan into the fire ... more like out of the coffin into the crematorium.
We passed by IKEA, which I mooted as the perfect location for Miss CoBi's next challenge (although we might need more than one month to complete a full entrance to exit Ikea ride).
In Leighton Buzzard we picked up the hugely talented Spring Offensive - a very up and almost coming band based in Oxford. I think the image of us riding a seven seater bike at about 30mph down a main road carrying a 4-man band playing their greatest hits thus far will have to go down as a highlight of my life. However so lost were we in the music that we spent an hour going round in one big circle, ending up in, yes you guessed it, Leighton Buzzard (we stupidly took directions from a 'Police Community Support Officer').
Eventually we rolled into Hemel , where we were met by Ed's granddad, Edward Guinness, who was actually at the meeting where the Guinness Book of Records was created .... SPEECHLESS.
OR IF YOU WANT A DIFFERENT, SLIGHTLY BETTER PERSPECTIVE THEN PLEASE SEE BELOW
My Day On A Seven Seater (Single Geared) Conference Bike , by David Sheffield
After a car journey, a brief train ride to Long Buckby (no, I’d never heard of it either) and a lift in the van (which was in the exact state I expected it to be in after almost 3 weeks of things being bundled in and out) I arrived at the Barceló Daventry Hotel (4*). Immediately I was warmly welcomed into the CoBi family by fellow riders, Sarah and Harry. This was a pleasant surprise as I had come fully equipped to camp.
Dinner was delayed due to the fascination of the coach tour that were seduced by the seven seat bike sitting in the foyer, one of whom was 84 year old Walter, a former Cancer Research scientist and avid cyclist. He didn’t need much encouragement to climb aboard for a photo.
Three more cyclists joined us before bedtime and we spend the final hour of the day debating whether or not crocodiles make good pets* and was CoBi a fitness or social thing – the second pint of San Miguel confirmed it was more likely the latter.
After a cosy night sleep (6 beds, 9 people) and a hearty breakfast, we set off, not before wrestling the bike from the members of the coach tour who were threatening to abandon their previous days transportation for Miss CoBi.
On the bike to begin with were Ed (Can I tell you a story?), Amy (Scream if you want to go slower), Laura (the extra weight of that hoodie will slow us down), Martin (I enjoy a good poke), Harry (it’s all about the lycra), Stewart (I could start my own business but I’d rather ride a single gear seven seater bike) and myself (I don’t want this to be too easy), while in the van were Sarah (get your butts up this hill now), Jack (Whatever stories Ed told you, they’re completely made up) and Ian (I think I’ve cracked this driving lark now).
Our first stop came after only 1.5 miles when we were stopped by the man from BBC Radio Northampton for an interview. Over the next few hours we seemed to pick up people at every turn. Paul (I’m going to build my own conference bike) joined us at Towcester after driving 5 hours from Essex that morning, Chris (who needs shoes anyway) and Emily (from Norway) joined at Milton Keynes.
We made good time, completing a marathon distance in under 3 and a half hours, and we were delighted to see an actual buzzard hovering over Leighton Buzzard. There a real life rock band (Spring Offensive) joined the journey taking the total number of riders for the day to 16. They entertained us by playing most of their back catalogue both on the way out of Leighton Buzzard and back into it again. The 40 minute detour was a slight set back but once back on the road it was time to cruise into Hemel just after 7PM, our final destination.
An amazing and motivating day with really interesting people who'd joined in for all kinds of reasons, taking part in something both bonkers and worthy and as I laid my head on my pillow I could still feel my legs spinning round top speed.
If you see this big purple machine in your area in the next week, give them a honk or a cheerful wave and please give generously!
* we decided not as it might eat the cat.
In the morning a large crowd of about 30 gathered outside the hotel, which must count as our biggest send-off yet; they sang a short refrain of 'we'll meet again' as we pedalled with all our might towards Hemel Hempstead.
We had a really rather racy relay team, so there was lots of swapping on and off which kept the pace up nice and high. The girls screamed louder than a lobster in boiling water as we came down a few of the hills, and Chris (Teeta) lost his trainer in frenzied roundabout pedalling. I accidentally got us onto another dodgy dual carriageway into Milton Keynes ; talk about out of the frying pan into the fire ... more like out of the coffin into the crematorium.
We passed by IKEA, which I mooted as the perfect location for Miss CoBi's next challenge (although we might need more than one month to complete a full entrance to exit Ikea ride).
In Leighton Buzzard we picked up the hugely talented Spring Offensive - a very up and almost coming band based in Oxford. I think the image of us riding a seven seater bike at about 30mph down a main road carrying a 4-man band playing their greatest hits thus far will have to go down as a highlight of my life. However so lost were we in the music that we spent an hour going round in one big circle, ending up in, yes you guessed it, Leighton Buzzard (we stupidly took directions from a 'Police Community Support Officer').
Eventually we rolled into Hemel , where we were met by Ed's granddad, Edward Guinness, who was actually at the meeting where the Guinness Book of Records was created .... SPEECHLESS.
OR IF YOU WANT A DIFFERENT, SLIGHTLY BETTER PERSPECTIVE THEN PLEASE SEE BELOW
My Day On A Seven Seater (Single Geared) Conference Bike , by David Sheffield
After a car journey, a brief train ride to Long Buckby (no, I’d never heard of it either) and a lift in the van (which was in the exact state I expected it to be in after almost 3 weeks of things being bundled in and out) I arrived at the Barceló Daventry Hotel (4*). Immediately I was warmly welcomed into the CoBi family by fellow riders, Sarah and Harry. This was a pleasant surprise as I had come fully equipped to camp.
Dinner was delayed due to the fascination of the coach tour that were seduced by the seven seat bike sitting in the foyer, one of whom was 84 year old Walter, a former Cancer Research scientist and avid cyclist. He didn’t need much encouragement to climb aboard for a photo.
Three more cyclists joined us before bedtime and we spend the final hour of the day debating whether or not crocodiles make good pets* and was CoBi a fitness or social thing – the second pint of San Miguel confirmed it was more likely the latter.
After a cosy night sleep (6 beds, 9 people) and a hearty breakfast, we set off, not before wrestling the bike from the members of the coach tour who were threatening to abandon their previous days transportation for Miss CoBi.
On the bike to begin with were Ed (Can I tell you a story?), Amy (Scream if you want to go slower), Laura (the extra weight of that hoodie will slow us down), Martin (I enjoy a good poke), Harry (it’s all about the lycra), Stewart (I could start my own business but I’d rather ride a single gear seven seater bike) and myself (I don’t want this to be too easy), while in the van were Sarah (get your butts up this hill now), Jack (Whatever stories Ed told you, they’re completely made up) and Ian (I think I’ve cracked this driving lark now).
Our first stop came after only 1.5 miles when we were stopped by the man from BBC Radio Northampton for an interview. Over the next few hours we seemed to pick up people at every turn. Paul (I’m going to build my own conference bike) joined us at Towcester after driving 5 hours from Essex that morning, Chris (who needs shoes anyway) and Emily (from Norway) joined at Milton Keynes.
We made good time, completing a marathon distance in under 3 and a half hours, and we were delighted to see an actual buzzard hovering over Leighton Buzzard. There a real life rock band (Spring Offensive) joined the journey taking the total number of riders for the day to 16. They entertained us by playing most of their back catalogue both on the way out of Leighton Buzzard and back into it again. The 40 minute detour was a slight set back but once back on the road it was time to cruise into Hemel just after 7PM, our final destination.
An amazing and motivating day with really interesting people who'd joined in for all kinds of reasons, taking part in something both bonkers and worthy and as I laid my head on my pillow I could still feel my legs spinning round top speed.
If you see this big purple machine in your area in the next week, give them a honk or a cheerful wave and please give generously!
* we decided not as it might eat the cat.
Wednesday, 18 August 2010
Biking for boobs
Wednesday was a very happy day aboard the good ship Cobi, fuelled by more home baking than Delia’s kitchen sees in a year and accompanied by three giant boobs. Yes folks, three giant boobs – and that wasn’t just the new recruits. I’ll tell you about the boobs later.
Joining the bike at the Bull Ring was the Warwick university contingent of Gethin, Olly and Rach, Colin the cyclist and Jason the funny man. With four ladies at the pedals it was perhaps the girliest day of the expedition yet . There was the Rachel who I’ve already mentioned and who made us all laugh out loud when, as we groaned our way up a cheeky hill, exclaimed ‘Oh! I thought that because I was going backwards I had to pedal backwards too…’. No Rach, no. I had rejoined the team for a few days, eager for more conferencing after my yomping up and over the Lammiemuir Hills last week. Then there were the lovely twins, Kristin and Maren Hallenga, the bringer of tasty baking and giant boobs. ‘And why the boobs?’ I hear you say. Well, we took it turn to strap the boobs to our backs, much to the amusement and bemusement of passersby. And the boobs were brought along because our favourite twins are on a mission to encourage the men and women of Great Britain to be boob aware and to raise awareness of breast cancer, particularly in young women. A noble crusade for sure, and all the more impressive when I tell you that Kris is a Cancer Warrior. She is 24. Diagnosed with stage IV breast cancer last year, following two misdiagnoses, Kris is on a mission to make sure that the same thing doesn’t happen to other young women. So, if you haven’t ‘copped a feel’ for a little while, then get to it and spread the word. Check out Coppafeel! At www.coppafeel.org for more information on being boob aware.
Joining the bike at the Bull Ring was the Warwick university contingent of Gethin, Olly and Rach, Colin the cyclist and Jason the funny man. With four ladies at the pedals it was perhaps the girliest day of the expedition yet . There was the Rachel who I’ve already mentioned and who made us all laugh out loud when, as we groaned our way up a cheeky hill, exclaimed ‘Oh! I thought that because I was going backwards I had to pedal backwards too…’. No Rach, no. I had rejoined the team for a few days, eager for more conferencing after my yomping up and over the Lammiemuir Hills last week. Then there were the lovely twins, Kristin and Maren Hallenga, the bringer of tasty baking and giant boobs. ‘And why the boobs?’ I hear you say. Well, we took it turn to strap the boobs to our backs, much to the amusement and bemusement of passersby. And the boobs were brought along because our favourite twins are on a mission to encourage the men and women of Great Britain to be boob aware and to raise awareness of breast cancer, particularly in young women. A noble crusade for sure, and all the more impressive when I tell you that Kris is a Cancer Warrior. She is 24. Diagnosed with stage IV breast cancer last year, following two misdiagnoses, Kris is on a mission to make sure that the same thing doesn’t happen to other young women. So, if you haven’t ‘copped a feel’ for a little while, then get to it and spread the word. Check out Coppafeel! At www.coppafeel.org for more information on being boob aware.
Tuesday, 17 August 2010
Psychic Cycling
It was sad to say goodbye to Stoke, I felt like I could have spent another good 5 minutes there seeing all the sites, but we didn't have 5 minutes to spare.
There were as many hills leaving as there had been arriving, Stoke really was in a big, big hole - hypothetically it would be quite easy to flood this hole and turn Stoke into a salmon farm.
We hit Stafford (we literally hit it with a big pole, it seemed the most sensible thing to do at the time) and Ed dived into Jessops to enquire about a new camera. This seemed like a good opportunity to charge his phone (remember this piece of information, it will be important later). After 20 minutes of expertise raping (I couldn't think of any other way to put this) Ed new the camera he wanted to left Jessops to buy it on EBay. Now you know what they say about Karma, not only is it a cracking curry, but it comes around as fast as it goes around (much like my bum sores).... yes you guessed it my intrepid readers, Ed left his phone in Jessops .... happily charging itself into pointless oblivion; as far as we know it is still there.
Pubs, pubs, glorious pubs, there is nothing quite like them for opening tubs? Feeding chubs? Good back rubs? If you can think of a better ending to that rhythm please email us (don't phone Ed he hasn't got a phone, it is in Jessops). We witnessed the great pub price war..... curry night; a curry, a pint and a packet of pork scratchings for £4.99, no, £4.95, hang on a minute £4.92 .... but the winner is £4.91.... it is great to see capitalism at work.
In tandem with curry night was psychic night, which is ironic because most of the pubs we saw had closed down ... they obviously didn't see it coming. Maybe the local psychics had a short sighted second sight .... They could predict when the chips for table 4 would arrive but not the bankruptcy of the landlord (this has led me to design psychic glasses, for short sighted psychics).
We stopped on a little hill overlooking Birmingham; it was covered in hypodermic needles (sometimes hypodermic needles are like London buses, you wait for one and 200 come along at once).
I helped a little old lady cross the road, and she disappeared into a wood with her rather heavy granny bag (for a split second I felt as though I was aiding and abetting a murderess .....)
Birmingham welcomed us with open legs!
we had a quick turnaround before heading to our Cancer Research tour – Ed will fill you in on what we learnt , but suffice to say we are becoming little cancer experts. We extracted DNA from a strawberry using washing up liquid, salt and ethanol, and we used some pretty hardcore pipettes to find protein markers.
We ate about 2 pizza’s each and then scooted to Sophie’s mum’s house where we helped her do a few odd jobs around the house – like painting the ceiling with our toes (ha-ha odd jobs).
There were as many hills leaving as there had been arriving, Stoke really was in a big, big hole - hypothetically it would be quite easy to flood this hole and turn Stoke into a salmon farm.
We hit Stafford (we literally hit it with a big pole, it seemed the most sensible thing to do at the time) and Ed dived into Jessops to enquire about a new camera. This seemed like a good opportunity to charge his phone (remember this piece of information, it will be important later). After 20 minutes of expertise raping (I couldn't think of any other way to put this) Ed new the camera he wanted to left Jessops to buy it on EBay. Now you know what they say about Karma, not only is it a cracking curry, but it comes around as fast as it goes around (much like my bum sores).... yes you guessed it my intrepid readers, Ed left his phone in Jessops .... happily charging itself into pointless oblivion; as far as we know it is still there.
Pubs, pubs, glorious pubs, there is nothing quite like them for opening tubs? Feeding chubs? Good back rubs? If you can think of a better ending to that rhythm please email us (don't phone Ed he hasn't got a phone, it is in Jessops). We witnessed the great pub price war..... curry night; a curry, a pint and a packet of pork scratchings for £4.99, no, £4.95, hang on a minute £4.92 .... but the winner is £4.91.... it is great to see capitalism at work.
In tandem with curry night was psychic night, which is ironic because most of the pubs we saw had closed down ... they obviously didn't see it coming. Maybe the local psychics had a short sighted second sight .... They could predict when the chips for table 4 would arrive but not the bankruptcy of the landlord (this has led me to design psychic glasses, for short sighted psychics).
We stopped on a little hill overlooking Birmingham; it was covered in hypodermic needles (sometimes hypodermic needles are like London buses, you wait for one and 200 come along at once).
I helped a little old lady cross the road, and she disappeared into a wood with her rather heavy granny bag (for a split second I felt as though I was aiding and abetting a murderess .....)
Birmingham welcomed us with open legs!
we had a quick turnaround before heading to our Cancer Research tour – Ed will fill you in on what we learnt , but suffice to say we are becoming little cancer experts. We extracted DNA from a strawberry using washing up liquid, salt and ethanol, and we used some pretty hardcore pipettes to find protein markers.
We ate about 2 pizza’s each and then scooted to Sophie’s mum’s house where we helped her do a few odd jobs around the house – like painting the ceiling with our toes (ha-ha odd jobs).
Monday, 16 August 2010
Which way to Biddulph?
It was one of those mornings, where the sun was out and you know it’s going to stay out. I think we all lost about an armful of sweat; my bum became a gushing river (which reminded me of the strong laxatives I had to take for my colonoscopy). We all kept it light (our urine that is) by drinking lots of Juice Doctor and we ate plenty of milk chocolate (if it was good enough for Scott of the Antarctic then it is good enough for me…. Uh-oh)
Today was the day of the tail-backs, and we had some longer than Tony Blair’s nose. Kim said we should see the queues of car more like a carnival parade, and this made us all feel much better. But we still decided to get off the main roads and do a bit of windy country lane scenic cycling. I saw a sign for Congleton, it was 5 miles away. Over the next hour I saw another 7 or 8 signs for Congleton, all hovering between the 4 1/2 and 6 mileage – it seemed like we were going round in ever decreasing circles so we got back onto the main drag (but at least we got to go on a footballer’s wife safari).
It was a Spice Girls/Dolly Parton themed ride, which I know Elliot just adored (he really belted out ‘I will always love you ‘). The musical accompaniment was vital to our hill climbing, which was lucky because the hills came thicker and faster than we would have liked, and they even took us through a town called Burnage, which left a bitter taste of irony in our mouths.
At around 3.40pm we entered the seemingly innocent sounding Biddulph, which later became the Biddulph triangle – a scary place where nothing is as it seems. Biddulph is a virus town, which appeared to eat every other populous in it’s path …… ‘Welcome to Biddulph’ …. ‘Welcome to Biddulph’ ….. ‘WELCOME TO BIDDULPH’ ….. you could arrive but never leave.
Eventually however (after 45 minutes) we did leave by following Mick Kent’s driving instructor car …. We even gave him a quick phone call to check it really was Mick, and he gave us a wave.
If we thought Biddulph was bad, it was small-fry compared to Stoke; Stoke is not one place, it is a collection of 6 interconnected towns …. Like the Crystal Maze, but without mumsy. Stoke also appeared to go up and down, both geographically and socially …. We encountered quite the brawl outside a bike shop which elicited a 5 police car response. We kept our heads down and tried to look as inconspicuous as possible, letting out a united chorus of ‘Hey up Duckie’ to appear local.
We decided to beg for lawn space at the Premier Inn behind the Britannia Stadium, and they graciously answered our cries for help. There was something quite soothing about going to sleep to the sound of the rattling Stoke ring road.
Today was the day of the tail-backs, and we had some longer than Tony Blair’s nose. Kim said we should see the queues of car more like a carnival parade, and this made us all feel much better. But we still decided to get off the main roads and do a bit of windy country lane scenic cycling. I saw a sign for Congleton, it was 5 miles away. Over the next hour I saw another 7 or 8 signs for Congleton, all hovering between the 4 1/2 and 6 mileage – it seemed like we were going round in ever decreasing circles so we got back onto the main drag (but at least we got to go on a footballer’s wife safari).
It was a Spice Girls/Dolly Parton themed ride, which I know Elliot just adored (he really belted out ‘I will always love you ‘). The musical accompaniment was vital to our hill climbing, which was lucky because the hills came thicker and faster than we would have liked, and they even took us through a town called Burnage, which left a bitter taste of irony in our mouths.
At around 3.40pm we entered the seemingly innocent sounding Biddulph, which later became the Biddulph triangle – a scary place where nothing is as it seems. Biddulph is a virus town, which appeared to eat every other populous in it’s path …… ‘Welcome to Biddulph’ …. ‘Welcome to Biddulph’ ….. ‘WELCOME TO BIDDULPH’ ….. you could arrive but never leave.
Eventually however (after 45 minutes) we did leave by following Mick Kent’s driving instructor car …. We even gave him a quick phone call to check it really was Mick, and he gave us a wave.
If we thought Biddulph was bad, it was small-fry compared to Stoke; Stoke is not one place, it is a collection of 6 interconnected towns …. Like the Crystal Maze, but without mumsy. Stoke also appeared to go up and down, both geographically and socially …. We encountered quite the brawl outside a bike shop which elicited a 5 police car response. We kept our heads down and tried to look as inconspicuous as possible, letting out a united chorus of ‘Hey up Duckie’ to appear local.
We decided to beg for lawn space at the Premier Inn behind the Britannia Stadium, and they graciously answered our cries for help. There was something quite soothing about going to sleep to the sound of the rattling Stoke ring road.
Sunday, 15 August 2010
The E-Manc-ipation of Miss CoBi
Sleeping past 6.30 was more of a struggle than a luxury, but somehow we managed to stay in bed until 8.30. The night before we had been indulged with a luxury sports massage; a cocktail of pure pleasure and pain potent enough to make the Marquis De Sade blush. The masseur, who went by the unassuming name of Terence, was anything but unassuming, especially with his pummelling fisting on my quads. I writhed, I screamed, I begged for mercy and cried for my mum but after ½ an hour the ordeal ended, the room came back into focus and I felt 100% better.
This morning however my legs pulsed like a supernova and wobbled more than Amy Whinehouse. Terence had foretold this ‘healing process’ so I popped a couple of Coedine and soldiered on.
Breakfast was delicious; I had eggs Benedict, 2 chocolate croissants, fresh orange juice and coffee. It hit the notoriously difficult to find culinary g-spot made so famous by Deep Throats 1 and 2. This was all thanks to the utterly gorgeous Abode Hotel, who were putting us up for two nights free of charge.
We had an 11 o’clock appointment at the Paterson Institute for Cancer Research Centre next door to the Christie Hospital. We were greeted by James, who explained that the Institute conducts all levels of research, from basic research (Which looks at the causes of cancer and the way it works), to transitional research (Looking at how these findings can be applied to specific cancers) and finally clinical research (How this can be developed into treatments and used most effectively). The Institute has a number of leading specialists, in fields such as imaging (Building microscopes) meaning all the resources necessary are on hand and researchers travel from far and wide to work there and use the facilities. James then took us up to the labs where we were given an awesome demonstration by the awesomely enthusiastic Marisa. She took us through an explanation of the work undertaken by Paul Nurse, Leland Hartwell and Tim Hunt that won them the Nobel Prize in 2001. They were looking at the regulation of cell division in yeast, which is used for genetic studies because of its speedy reproduction and simple genetic structure. The explanation culminated in a demonstration using apples and onions, which represented different gene types, with mutations and without. A copy of the presentation will be available to download from the blog soon.
We were then taken further upstairs by Bill, who showed us an outline of the work he does on his whiteboard (Next to a rosette he’d won for some particularly good research). This included his six step plan for eliminating cancer which was:
1.Identify (something that works)
2.Test in vitro
3.Test in vivo
4.Clinical Trials
5.Cure cancer
6.Go Home
His task is at the identification stage, where his team will seek to specifically knock out or over express a cell’s function in order to stop it acting or becoming cancerous. A compound that can replicate this effect is then created by the drug development team and this can then be used in trials, firstly in the lab and then if this works in a clinical environment. We then looked at some of the tissue samples that he’s working with. The cancer cells are immortalised, so some of them have been around for many years. We looked at the cells of a Japanese boy who had had leukaemia in 1983 but there are some tissue cultures that have been around since the 1950s. We finished up with lunch in the director’s office overlooking the new clinical trials wing of the Christie which will be the largest of its kind in Europe. Having it so close to the Institute where the research is being done has huge benefits and it was excellent to have effectively seen all stages of the research process.
After taking the researchers for a quick spin on Miss CoBi, we attempted to storm the world famous Manchester Caribbean festival, but the burly security guard drew our attention to a notice on the entrance gate which read ‘No bikes’ – we could have made quite a convincing argument refuting Miss CoBi’s bike status but it didn’t really seem worth the bloodshed.
We focused on three main areas of Manchester – The Printworks (Italian tourists and shopaholics) Piccadilly Gardens (tramps and families) and Canal Street (homosexuals and disorientated Russians). It was lovely to have such a heady mix of people. There is something quite draining about drunk people but on the plus side they are incredibly generous so we couldn’t really complain, and it was wonderful to have real queens who could actually pull off the royal wave which had eluded us so far.
Our 2 days in Manchester were nearly over, and they would not have been so glorious, indeed the whole ride might not have happened, had it not been for our project manager Sophie. She fed us both nights, and her boyfriend made two beautiful puddings, we really do owe her a massive thank you.
This morning however my legs pulsed like a supernova and wobbled more than Amy Whinehouse. Terence had foretold this ‘healing process’ so I popped a couple of Coedine and soldiered on.
Breakfast was delicious; I had eggs Benedict, 2 chocolate croissants, fresh orange juice and coffee. It hit the notoriously difficult to find culinary g-spot made so famous by Deep Throats 1 and 2. This was all thanks to the utterly gorgeous Abode Hotel, who were putting us up for two nights free of charge.
We had an 11 o’clock appointment at the Paterson Institute for Cancer Research Centre next door to the Christie Hospital. We were greeted by James, who explained that the Institute conducts all levels of research, from basic research (Which looks at the causes of cancer and the way it works), to transitional research (Looking at how these findings can be applied to specific cancers) and finally clinical research (How this can be developed into treatments and used most effectively). The Institute has a number of leading specialists, in fields such as imaging (Building microscopes) meaning all the resources necessary are on hand and researchers travel from far and wide to work there and use the facilities. James then took us up to the labs where we were given an awesome demonstration by the awesomely enthusiastic Marisa. She took us through an explanation of the work undertaken by Paul Nurse, Leland Hartwell and Tim Hunt that won them the Nobel Prize in 2001. They were looking at the regulation of cell division in yeast, which is used for genetic studies because of its speedy reproduction and simple genetic structure. The explanation culminated in a demonstration using apples and onions, which represented different gene types, with mutations and without. A copy of the presentation will be available to download from the blog soon.
We were then taken further upstairs by Bill, who showed us an outline of the work he does on his whiteboard (Next to a rosette he’d won for some particularly good research). This included his six step plan for eliminating cancer which was:
1.Identify (something that works)
2.Test in vitro
3.Test in vivo
4.Clinical Trials
5.Cure cancer
6.Go Home
His task is at the identification stage, where his team will seek to specifically knock out or over express a cell’s function in order to stop it acting or becoming cancerous. A compound that can replicate this effect is then created by the drug development team and this can then be used in trials, firstly in the lab and then if this works in a clinical environment. We then looked at some of the tissue samples that he’s working with. The cancer cells are immortalised, so some of them have been around for many years. We looked at the cells of a Japanese boy who had had leukaemia in 1983 but there are some tissue cultures that have been around since the 1950s. We finished up with lunch in the director’s office overlooking the new clinical trials wing of the Christie which will be the largest of its kind in Europe. Having it so close to the Institute where the research is being done has huge benefits and it was excellent to have effectively seen all stages of the research process.
After taking the researchers for a quick spin on Miss CoBi, we attempted to storm the world famous Manchester Caribbean festival, but the burly security guard drew our attention to a notice on the entrance gate which read ‘No bikes’ – we could have made quite a convincing argument refuting Miss CoBi’s bike status but it didn’t really seem worth the bloodshed.
We focused on three main areas of Manchester – The Printworks (Italian tourists and shopaholics) Piccadilly Gardens (tramps and families) and Canal Street (homosexuals and disorientated Russians). It was lovely to have such a heady mix of people. There is something quite draining about drunk people but on the plus side they are incredibly generous so we couldn’t really complain, and it was wonderful to have real queens who could actually pull off the royal wave which had eluded us so far.
Our 2 days in Manchester were nearly over, and they would not have been so glorious, indeed the whole ride might not have happened, had it not been for our project manager Sophie. She fed us both nights, and her boyfriend made two beautiful puddings, we really do owe her a massive thank you.
Saturday, 14 August 2010
Sticking it to the Manchester
We felt fresh as fresh as Daisy the pantomime cow; Ed, Kate, Phil and I left Paris sleeping (we didn’t want to wake her) and hop scotched over to Leeds station, led by Ian, who takes a laid back approach to his cycling on his recumbent bike. Today was an unofficial and slightly impromptu fancy dress affair, with Andy Fallon dressed as Darth Vader and Matt Senior wearing a massive afro wig. Not to be outdone Kate Brown donned her star spangled leggings, I slipped into my Timmy Mallet shell-suit jacket and Ed wore a codpiece (either that or his bum was sorer than we thought).
Hester was our birthday girl, so Miss CoBi gave her a little present between the thighs and we sang the more conventional happy birthday. We followed this with about 17 verses of ‘Ilkley Moor Bar Tat’ and attempted ‘Pop Goes The Weasel’, but we got stuck somewhere in the treacle.
Not that we were tiring of the conversation, but we took a vote and unanimously agreed that a radio would be a useful addition to the bike… I think everyone had visions of us zooming up hills listening to ‘Eye of the Tiger’. Argos was kind enough to donate a little shower radio, but the thing about little shower radios is that they are little and belong in showers… If we stopped the bike and cocked our ears we could make out what was either lady Gaga or ET making a phone call home. More often than not it just provided shower sound effects.
I can’t say Huddersfield was beautiful but leaving it was, and as we climbed out of the valley, we entered a landscape littered with skeletons of our recent industrial history. Dark satanic mills towered over the hills, criss-crossed with canals and patchworks of railway lines knotted about ominous houses made for Heathcliff and Kathy.
Coming down from Sadleworth Moor Ed and I made a slight error – we both take full responsibility but I blame Ed entirely. Somehow the brakes were left locked on as we speedily descended and the result was;
a) We slowed down considerably on the flat
b) Several riders commented on the strange smell of burning
c) I saw smoke
d) I realised the brakes were on fire
e) We stopped
f) We poured water on the breaks and they sizzled for 5 minutes
There is only one way to get over such a disaster, and that is to visit the village of Uppermill on Yanks Day. Basically the whole village goes back in time to the 1940’s and pretend they are in war-time England. Literally everyone dresses the part, and most of the men have a replica rifle slung over their shoulders, while the women drape foxes round their necks. Little army jeeps zoomed down the street, and pubs spilled out with jiving and jazz. The only downside was the two men who had opted for SS uniforms… It’s good they’re supporting the tourism industry by holidaying in Greater Manchester but Harry and William really should know better.
As we rolled into Manchester a strange phenomena occurred; the sun came out. This is most unusual for Manchester which like Mordor of Lord of the Rings fame, it is most often enveloped by dark swirling clouds of doom. It seems as we approach our half-way point, someone, somewhere, is smiling down on us.
Hester was our birthday girl, so Miss CoBi gave her a little present between the thighs and we sang the more conventional happy birthday. We followed this with about 17 verses of ‘Ilkley Moor Bar Tat’ and attempted ‘Pop Goes The Weasel’, but we got stuck somewhere in the treacle.
Not that we were tiring of the conversation, but we took a vote and unanimously agreed that a radio would be a useful addition to the bike… I think everyone had visions of us zooming up hills listening to ‘Eye of the Tiger’. Argos was kind enough to donate a little shower radio, but the thing about little shower radios is that they are little and belong in showers… If we stopped the bike and cocked our ears we could make out what was either lady Gaga or ET making a phone call home. More often than not it just provided shower sound effects.
I can’t say Huddersfield was beautiful but leaving it was, and as we climbed out of the valley, we entered a landscape littered with skeletons of our recent industrial history. Dark satanic mills towered over the hills, criss-crossed with canals and patchworks of railway lines knotted about ominous houses made for Heathcliff and Kathy.
Coming down from Sadleworth Moor Ed and I made a slight error – we both take full responsibility but I blame Ed entirely. Somehow the brakes were left locked on as we speedily descended and the result was;
a) We slowed down considerably on the flat
b) Several riders commented on the strange smell of burning
c) I saw smoke
d) I realised the brakes were on fire
e) We stopped
f) We poured water on the breaks and they sizzled for 5 minutes
There is only one way to get over such a disaster, and that is to visit the village of Uppermill on Yanks Day. Basically the whole village goes back in time to the 1940’s and pretend they are in war-time England. Literally everyone dresses the part, and most of the men have a replica rifle slung over their shoulders, while the women drape foxes round their necks. Little army jeeps zoomed down the street, and pubs spilled out with jiving and jazz. The only downside was the two men who had opted for SS uniforms… It’s good they’re supporting the tourism industry by holidaying in Greater Manchester but Harry and William really should know better.
As we rolled into Manchester a strange phenomena occurred; the sun came out. This is most unusual for Manchester which like Mordor of Lord of the Rings fame, it is most often enveloped by dark swirling clouds of doom. It seems as we approach our half-way point, someone, somewhere, is smiling down on us.
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