Tricksy Tricksy

29 November – Brettski’s mum is still a little poorly so I was bridge boy again – the riding is good, although very windy over the bridge, but the work is sporadic.  Got a bit of quality at times but still quite a bit of sitting around – was waiting for ages on the city side with a STD (that’s standard, I don’t think I’m carrying and diseases at the moment, at least I hope I’m not) and eventually it just got far too late so I had to ride over, once I was pedalling up the highway on the north side I got a phone call from Butters who started it with ‘oh, you’re on the other side, aren’t you?’ - but, feeling a little bit sluggish from sitting around I volunteered to get rid of the one I had and burn back over for a P1 and then jump back north again – very sweaty work.  Afternoon got significantly better but annoyingly on my last trip back over the bridge a skateboarder got in my way on the pedestrian walkway and sent me into the fence bursting my front tyre and afterwards whilst trying to fix it the strange bent fork phenom meant that my front tyre was jamming up against the forks again, impossible to ride.  A lot of fiddly playing around got me mobile but I’m going to have to make some adjustments tonight, very irritating.  Also practising tricks in Martin Place afterwards sent me flying over handlebars – hope I didn’t break anything.  I would also advise any of my readers (whoever you are) to check out page 5 of today’s Telegraph (by the time this is actually posted most copies should be in the pulping press) for a very amusing image of Paragon Chris surfing the top tube with the headline of ‘rat bag’ - also, apparently Alan Jones called him a ‘mug laird’ (not sure what that is but Chris took it as a compliment).  Find it very strange how anyone could take this as an offensive image – sure, the Critical Mass annoyed quite a few (and the Telegraph has firmly placed themselves on the opposing camp) but it was a legal, police escorted protest, and he was just a cyclist doing a trick.  It must have been the straggly beard that made them scream ‘ratbag’.