Wednesday, May 30, 2012

With Royal Approval




Next week our noble Queen celebrates 60 years of reign and all across the United Kingdom and Commonwealth communities will be joining together in combined celebration. Already houses are  being festooned with bunting and union jacks, leaving bright spring blooms pushed aside by red, white, and blue fabric.
People are noticeably more courteous and smiling at one another. Discussions centre on 'The Event' rather than the weather or at the very least the weather that might be expected at 'The Event'.

Most people will celebrate in some appropriate way with friends and family, assembled together in street or  garden parties. Needless to say there will be plenty of baking and the over use of cucumbers in crustless sandwiches. Toasts will be made to Queen and Country and some national pride may filter into our lives

Sadly there will also be many who have no interest in the Queen or tradition. For them the two extra days holiday will merely be seen as an additional opportunity for disgrace.
After years of evolution they have been able to extend the capacity of their leg movements to walk to  supermarkets, although lifting their knuckles from the ground still remains a challenge.

Once at their chosen destination and with the use of  monosyllabic posturings they have sadly discovered the booze aisle, where they unashamedly spend their child benefit money.
On their return their gait becomes more of a strut.
A well oiled movement, bare chested, with boxes of canned 'wife beater' gripped loosely under their tattooed arms.
Sometimes they stop to lighten their load through consumption or spillage, drinking themselves more stupid than they already are.
As darkness descends so do their inhibitions as they randomly abuse each other or anyone within their blurred sight.

When HRH first came to the throne we were a country under threat from rumblings in Europe.
An  island of seafarers, proud, stubborn and resolute, we united together to fight and halt the dreams of the mustachioed fascist from Germany.
Now a number of generations on, those values are seemingly forgotten, along with the sacrifice of our grandfathers.
Apart from our troops in Afghanistan and Iraq a lot of our younger generation believe that sacrifice is a tangible thing. Like going without a curry after drinking 15 pints of lager.
Sadly as a nation we are more associated with drunken yobbos than we are with that old bulldog spirit.

This is no more evident than with our national sport 'soccer' on winning trophies the players initial celebrations reflect all that is anti-social.
They sing songs which consist of one mispronounced word repeated over and over again.
Champ-e-o-nes!!!! Champ-e-o-nes!!!! whilst gesturing with their arms that they are going to drink and drink and drink.

My own celebrations will be more subtle.
I will be riding my bike and wearing red, white, and blue and will ensure that my I Pod is loaded with patriotic songs. My route will be chosen on 'variety' to take in Wold, Moor, Plain and Coast in celebration of 'this fair and pastured land. 
I will toast the Queen.
I will be also be thinking about other sportsmen and women who will also be wearing red white and blue and trying to put the 'Great' back into Britain in our Olympic and Coronation Year.
For all of them representing the country 'this is their year'.
I wish them all luck.

My blogposts have been less frequent recently because in order to write about cycling you have to cycle! After an appalling start to the year May has been glorious!
So rather than Pedal.... pedal .....Blog .......Pedal ......pedal ......blog.
Its just been all pedal with no blog but I do have 900 miles in the bag for the month so blogging can now catch up.

May also provided The Anglo Mules with their own royal visitor in the shape of 'La Patron' Paddy from America who was leaner, stronger, fitter and faster than I have ever seen him.
Previously on his visits to the UK we have taken him over to Brantingham and Trundlegate to watch the 'Plainsman' suffer. But clearly in his newly acquired condition this was never going to work.

There was only one thing for it. The High Wolds around Thixendale.
In our attempts to make him suffer (Its what cyclists do) he rose to the challenge ensuring that if he was going to suffer on the Hills, that we would too, on the rare flat sections.
On these stretches he pushed us all into our respective 'Red Zones' and certainly taught me a few things about cycling with a purpose.
After the ride we were all treated to our first BBQ of the Year courtesy of Simon and Karen.
As well as our bikes my Camera got an outing.......see for yourself.











1 comment:

jeff said...

I've always had a soft spot for Great Britain. My Grandfather emigrated to America at 16 years old. and during WWII my father spent time there. While waiting with his truck for an officer to return from a meeting he was invited in for tea. When he informed the gentlewoman that he could not leave his truck, she brought the table, napkins, biscuits, and tea...to him. Long live the Queen!