I appreciate, dear readers, that it has been some time since I have availed you of a collection of words to peruse, bemuse and hopefully entertain.
I could give a myriad of excuses but, in honesty, life is a time thief and I have struggled to find the time of late to do the blog my own poor version of justice. Having caught up with some good friends recently I realised that I need to make more of an effort and hence here I am.
How is pub life? Well it changes very little which is not necessarily a bad thing. The fall out from crazy flu means that we struggle to find any justification for moving to earlier opening and later closing (what we used to call Summer hours) since there simply isn’t the trade at those times of day.
When asked how trade is my stock answer is that the Plough is very much like its current custodian, old and tired. The Plough want’s to remain a pub but she doesn’t want to be a raging success. When we have a good week we will have a poor weekend and vice versa. After 8 years I have learnt not to look at a cracking start to the week as anything more than a precursor to a slow weekend. The Plough will always do her bit but she is way to senior to be working hard.
About 5 years ago I decided that I needed to attend to a creeping damp problem in the Gents toilets and I have now completed that task. On the way I have completely gutted and rebuilt the Ladies toilets, cleared 650 tons of soil from site, built a new store room, new retaining walls and replaced the stage. But we now have fresh new Gent’s toilets.
As always the pub threw many challenges up during the latest part of that build not least the complete absence of any foundation /DPC over a 2m length of wall. For some reason, long since lost in time, a small section of old flint wall was retained and ‘encased’ in a cavity wall with adjacent foundations. Since the Plough lies mid way down a long hill the water table has a pesky habit of making itself known at this point.
Since there was no practical way of resolving the situation (even I have limits) I go forward with the a new found knowledge of why, just occasionally, I see a small river. I probably owe an apology to a few people who, over the years, have been scowled at for spilling drinks when in reality they were not to blame.
The architect was in last week for his regular head shaking session as we plan out the next stage of works for the Plough. I remain full committed to the policy that standing still is not an option the only way is forward so, as explained, my architects only escape is to retire.
I am often asked ‘do you still get out for a walk’ well, since you all know me, I think you can guess the answer. I normally walk three times a week, that is always the plan. I walk all weathers and enjoy both the dark soaking mud baths and the bright sun baked mornings. Because I am a little obsessive (maybe) I have a fixed route, with some extensions. This circular route includes steep ascents and descents (cumulative elevation of around 4000 ft), made paths, tracks and fields. Despite the route remaining the same the change in surfaces and elevations keeps me interested and challenged.
Now, you will have already guessed, the reason I have a fixed route is to measure progress. I walk with a weighted vest and every couple of weeks I increase the weight (currently 18kg) which slows my pace. Once my pace is recovered and my times are back I increase the weight and repeat the cycle. The next increase will see me max out at 20kg and once stabilised I will then up the distance. Current mileage is just under 22 miles but I can reasonably (time and logistics) extend to 30 miles. Obviously at 30 miles there is the 100 mile week challenge but that is some way off.
The obvious, apparently, question is why? Well in honesty, as much as the 3am alarm call rattles, it feels good to compete it and sets me up for the day. It seems to keep my blood pressure in check and obviously holds some weight gain at bay.
Ms Nature continues her campaign of harassment and I am currently sporting a stress fractured metatarsal. There is, of course, an argument for resting an injury and I respect all those who follow that path but it is not for me. I run a sort of self diagnostics about a mile in and repeat it every time something changes. So I identify the pain, what movement makes it worse and how critical that movement is. If I can reduce the frequency by, for example, higher steps then I do so. If the frequency cannot be reduced then I dial up the tolerance to ignore the pain. Sometimes my times are negatively impacted but as soon as I notice myself yielding I dial up the pace.
Heading out early means that, even at this time of year, I can get a good way without seeing anybody which suits me perfectly. As Summer kicks in I am starting to see the odd dog walker but by mid August I will be plagued by fair weather hikers and dog walkers at the latter end of my route. I find it quite entertaining watching people desperately trying to clear a little mud from their near perfect white trainers when three months ago I was ploughing through a quagmire half way up my shin in the same spot.
I read that hiking is good for the mind because it allows us to operate alone and without distraction. I am not sure how true that is but I do regularly find myself both amazed and incredibly grateful that I have such a wonderful playground on my doorstep.
This post has been in draft for over a week so I will end it now but I promise to, at least try, probably, to keep up a little better in future.