StreetCowboy

As you know, my buddy and I finish the first part of our bike rides, and after the cycling, solve the world's problems. To cut a long story short... What is the point of all those gears? For normal people, who are not honed athletes, and can cycle at varying cadence, why would you want 10 or 11 or 12 gears on the rear cog? On my two bikes, I have 2 x 11 and 2 x 8, and I really enjoy the wider range of the 2 x 8. The best thing I can say about the 2 x 11 is that I can easily shift two gears quickly. So why not have a 5 or 6 or 7 or 8 speed rear cog, with a narrow chain, and allow more space for a more symmetrical wheel? Why take up more space than the disc brakes? Remember 0 you heard it here first...

The comedian has no idea how funny is his joke. And if he had to explain it, he has failed. I will assume you are just being obtuse.

An old acquaintance from Soi Cowboy was back in town, and I was due a drink with Dr K (purely medicinal) so I took the opportunity to combine the two as a gentle bicycle ride. My buddy turned up as well, as he thought that he had domestic obligations that would preclude a Sunday ride. The Visitor coped with my road bike, despite me having adjusted the FD limit screws such that he could not access the big chain wheel, and Dr K performed admirably for a man that had not been on a bike since the days of The Wombles. I think the ride benefitted substantially from a misnavigation on my part, that saw us passing some graffiti murals, looping through the highway offices, and following familiar roads home. I may have overdone it on the final part of the ride, and was pleasantly relieved to find my bike downstairs in the car park beside the other bikes, with the saddle adjustment allan keys safely nestled in the helmet hanging in the saddle bar. All’s well that ends well, until it doesn’t.

Poor Captain Hook suffered terribly from a ticking clock - to be more precise, from the crocodile that swallowed it, along with his hand. A ticking clock is a clear indication of our gradual yet relentless journey towards our terminality, and to be able to listen to it in peace and tranquility, without fear, is a pleasure that was denied to Captain Hook.

To quote from a random internet post: Sometimes I use big words for which I don’t know the meaning, so that I sound more photosynthesis.

I am afraid of double negatives. I am also slightly concerned about protracted illness, extreme old age and dementia. SC

Back in the day, One evening, my landlord came round substantially the worse for wear to collect rent from the boys next door. We went to assist, and pulled our landlord away while he was futilely trying to lay into one of the boys, and assisted him back to his van, and he drove off. It was some days before I felt safe to cycle again. ”don’t worry, if he hasn’t sobered up by new he’ll have wrecked the van” ”Aye, but what if he’s bought another one?”

I had always interpreted that as a threat: "You had better do this or you will know the back of my hand". The last time that I was there, it was like a stranger to be, even the few acquaintances I met. People move on, places change, you forget things... You can never go back, and you can rarely go again without disappointment

Written in novel form, with a developing plot, that lures the reader into ever more sophistication, so that they decide either "I want to take classes", or "I know enough" so that they do not waste the time of others in classes. Back in the day, I twice tried to learn Mandarin, the first time with a very enthusiastic English teacher, whose standards I fell far short of, and the second time with a diligent Taiwanese lady whose patience knew no bounds. In any case, between the two, I achieved a level of competence to maintain simple conversations with Chinese hookers in Dubai, and when I went on business to France, I found it easier to forego the fancy menus of the French restaurants and go to a Chinese restaurant and order a Taiwan lunch. SC

I think the idea of writing a novel that is both an English tutorial and a Thai tutorial is particularly imaginative. Would it be aimed at speakers of both those languages (presumably, to learn the other - to improve their own would require exceptional scholarly abilities), or aimed at third-language speakers to learn one, or other, or both of those languages?

Nor mimes

We’re you going for world record gullibility? I only paid 500 USD for that, but it was a while back

You just better hope that the tree gives enough wood to build a shack. And bring some long spikes; it’s not yet time to live on a desert island with nothing for shelter but the shade of the tree that you cut down, and the timber boards that blew away in the first hurricane.

If I were an artist, I would forego still lifes for hasty conclusions, which seem much easier to draw

I’ve drawn only from my own experience, whether it be in education or the passive observation of life as it wends its turgid course towards the inevitable. If I were a wiser man would my fellows ask my advice, as a mediocre 80s pop star might sing. If I were to truly aspire to be like David Watts, I would have to work as hard as he, and to drink as little. Since that is not the case, then I can conclude that a I don’t wish I could be like David Watts. I don’t think Ray Davies did, either. Idle speculation is for the idle, and speculators, the latter seem to do better out of it.

As the late Ray French would have said, were he still alive “There’s no point speculating”

My brother would eat fish, were it not for the bones. “Aye, but it tastes like it’s got bones” Some of us are happy with our humdrum mundanity, some wonder if there could be something different, and perhaps too few take up arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing, end them. But if it’s done, then when it’s done, it’s as well that it’s done quickly.

If wishes were fishes, which would you find most delicious? I might go tomorrow, if I’m feeling in the pink To the Cricketers Arms, where they sell Cullen Skink

Mr Cheery has spoken ! If wishes were fishes there’d be a lot of fine wishbones

Everyone enjoys a bit of struggle, except those that have to. I don't remember 1543, but 1453 was a particularly momentous year, with the fall of Constantinople to the army of Mehmet II (not a spelling that I have seen recently - don't get me started on that), and the discovery of the world by the Chinese (strictly speaking, 1421 according to Menzies). Times change, people move on, things are not the same as they once were, then is not now. We can whinge if we want to, but that is our choice. SC

I imagine that 1943 was a year of soaring optimism for our parents and grandparents - maybe not others amongst us... 2022 has been a dreadful year, but brought about by harvesting the fruits of our own stupidity as much as the trials and tribulations that fate dealt us in the preceding years. I have no idea if 2022 is worse than 1943, and I am sure it pales into insignificance compared to the horrors of 1916 or 1919, but it is much fresher in the memory. My memory, at least.

If I didn't want to be here, I would have gone somewhere else.

You'll see a lot more of the country by bike, even if you ride it like it's stolen. An eye mask and stripey shirt might help you keep in character, and will be completely over the head (not culturally understood) by the eager plod on your trail. You might want to publish the journal of your escapades some days in arrears, in case there is a sleuth on your trail. In grateful anticipation S Cowboy

And you won't get the deposit back on the Skylane bike, even if you get arrested or turn up a few weeks later