Slogan reads "We're bringing Oil to American Shores"

I don’t often climb on to a soap box so I hope regular viewers of this Blog will tolerate this exception, especially those in the US, for whom this has been written.

The oil leak from a BP installation in the deep waters of the Gulf of Mexico has been world news and justifiably so because it does constitute a major event and it has already been very disruptive, for example of deep water fishing off the Gulf Coast of the USA, which has been banned over large areas.

I was on vacation in Florida as this incident started so I had the opportunity to see how it was handled by the US media and by the US politicians and the BP executives who found themselves having to answer challenging questions.

I am as disappointed as anyone that this incident occurred at all and also that sufficiently reliable contingency arrangements had not been made to prevent significant leakage even if, as BP have explained, it needed a combination of seven failures (of safety devices or systems) to allow leakage to become uncontrolled in the way it did.

But a very large leak of oil and gas there has been and despite the use of vast quantities of dispersant chemicals, some pollution from the well is getting ashore and there is quite a lot of it on the surface around the well area, some of which has now end up coming ashore as oil or oil derivatives.

The US media were very quick to start calling it a disaster and the US politicians, and especially the Senator from one of the States which was at risk of pollution, took a very strident and anti-British line from the outset.  BP was responsible for the oil exploration and BP is a British Company and that was enough; let’s blame those foreigners for messing up America’s back yard; this would never have happened if Americans were in charge!

But the first BP executives to be interviewed on TV, the people who had been in charge of BP’s Gulf operation, were American Nationals and it has emerged that the owners of the Oil Rig which caught fire was a Company (contracted to BP to do the drilling etc) which until two years ago, when it moved its HQ to Switzerland, was an American Company.  Oil exploration in the Gulf is of course regulated by the US Government, and regulation extends to detail specification of approval of all sorts of things, including for example the particular chemicals which were to be used as a dispersant in the event of an oil spill.

It quickly became clear that BP started pulling all the stops out to deal with the problem very quickly indeed and their global Chief Executive took responsibility for media communication as well as accepting on behalf of the Company responsibility for dealing with the problem.  Not once did he try to blame anyone else or make any excuses; he just made it very clear that BP was going to pull out all the stops to fix the problem and repair the damage.  It was equally clear early on that the American Authorities had nothing useful to contribute; they even admitted they were entirely dependent on BP’s technology and BP’s engineers to fix things and they had no relevant skills or resources at their disposal.

The US Authorities still seem to me to be doing little more than demand more information and more action from BP and I’ve seen no evidence of any constructive input at all.   The Regulatory Authority which had previously (and quite specifically) approved the dispersant chemical which BP had on standby as a contingency, announced shortly after the start of the problem that (in response to media pressure) it was withdrawing its approval of this chemical, which BP was by then deploying in very large quantities in an attempt to prevent or at least minimise the oil which got ashore.  This was because concerns had been expressed about its environmental safety and there might be better alternatives.  They wanted BP,  in the midst of everything else it was trying to do to staunch the leak and organise containment and cleanup of the spill, to switch to using another chemical because of these environmental concerns.

On the day I returned to UK there were pictures in the newspapers of an American citizen trampling on a Union Jack on the steps of his City Hall.  he looked quite pleased with himself for the gesture he was making.   Since then we’ve had reports of the US President demanding that BP suspend any idea of paying dividends to its shareholders and lodge with the US large sums of money to facilitate the payment of compensation claims, in addition to the huge sums of money which it’s already been spending.

It would clearly be desirable for this oil leak to have been prevented and likewise the loss of life which resulted from the Oil Rig Fire.  But it has happened, presumably because of some failures in design or in the operation of safety systems.  This will hopefully lead to lessons being learned, to the benefit of deep water oil exploration all over the world.  I admire the way the BP executives have handled themselves and the way they committed their Company to accepting its responsibilities and doing everything possible, as quickly as possible, to deal with the leak.  They must have known very quickly that they were in deep trouble and they haven’t tried to run away from their responsibility or to pass the buck in any way.

But I haven’t been at all impressed by the American Media or the US politicians, including President Obama, in their handling of this problem.  And I really didn’t like seeing an American trampling on our National Flag to show his disapproval.  I appreciate that he probably doesn’t represent anything much more than an ignorant and emotional individual response in front of the cameras but nevertheless he would find it grossly offensive if I trampled on his national flag and he should understand that’s what he is doing to ours.  We British don’t take as much trouble to fly our Flag or treating it with such elaborate care when we take it down and fold it up as Americans do, but that doesn’t mean we’re not proud of it and proud of our Country – and proud of our troops who are fighting and dying alongside Americans in Afghanistan and did so in Iraq.  When bad things happen, such as blue-on-blue strikes by American forces on their Allies, we aren’t happy about it and we expect real efforts to be made to avoid further repetition, but we don’t over react.  Nor should Americans and nor should the American Media; the guy in Louisiana who stood on our Flag might be an ignorant fool but professional journalists are educated people and they should know better than foster and publicise behaviour like this.

In the week or two before this Oil Rig caught fire the US media were full of stories about the need for America to become self-sufficient in oil so that it could no longer be held to ransom by foreign oil producers.  Oil exploration in the Gulf was being lauded as a way of achieving this, hence the T Shirt slogan which BP’s American arm producew to trumpet it’s contribution.  America wants to have cheap gasoline and home-grown production too and no one was complaining about oil production in the Gulf before the problems developed.  America was happy that oil was to being produced in the Gulf and it shouldn’t expect to have the benefits, including taxation and other revenues from BP’s Gulf activities,  without also accepting that there are risks.

Drilling for oil in waters which are a mile deep sounds like a pretty risky activity to me and if it was happening around UK, I would hope and expect that my Government’s Regulators were properly on the case.  We regulate nuclear power station pretty tightly even though it costs a lot to do so and adds to the cost of the electricity they produce; it presumably needs to be the same with deep water oil extraction and the Government should be on the case.  I would expect our Government to kept an eye of the way they were going about it and to make sure it couldn’t cause big problems and presumably the US people expect their Government to exercise similar responsibilities.

Whatever mistakes BP or its contractor companies may have made, the disaster in the Gulf is, ultimately, the result of  a failure of Regulation by the US Authorities.  Deep water oil exploration was being conducted under the direction and regulation of American Nationals in waters which are off the American shore.  Although BP is  registered as a British Company it’s a multinational giant and there are almost as many US shareholders in BP as there are British.

So I would be grateful, American citizens and politicians, if you would resist the temptation to attack my Country and especially trample on my Country’s Flag, just because there’s a big problem on your patch and on your President’s watch which needs fixing and which you suddenly find yourselves ill equipped to deal with.  I’m not so blind that I can’t see when our politicians are trying to pass the buck when they find themselves scandalously ill-prepared and I suggest that you shouldn’t be either.

It's like Morris Dancing without the sticks and bells

Far be it from me to claim anything other than inspiration from the late great Alistair Cooke by adapting the title of his famous BBC radio reports from New York but I did used to enjoy his broadcasts when I was a lad and I am temporarily resident (or at least on vacation) in Florida, so it seems appropriate to send my Blog viewers something to read while I’m away from the UK GoldWing scene.

Management (as she’s known in our household) and I have been privileged to be staying with genuine Floridians (or rather one real-deal Southerner and his fully assimilated and acclimatised Yankee wife) and it’s been great to get off the tourist trail and spend time with the real people.

Out Host for our first three nights in Florida was Randy Rodriguez and his wife Cat.  We met them several years ago when I first saw a Drill Team in action, since when Randy has become the Captain and his Drill Team, the Central Florida Motorcycle Drill Team are still reigning World Champions.  And of course Randy brought three other riders over to UK in 2008 to display to the GoldWing Light Parade in Blackpool, so plenty of UK Wingers have met him too.

Randy and I have stayed in contact with each other ever since then and luckily for me we have become friends and I’ve got to know quite a few of the Team since then too.  They’re a great bunch and now include two female fully qualified Team Riders, both of whom are therefore skilled, not to say courageous – and not to say a little barmy to be pursuing this unusual hobby.

On our second day we watched a Shuttle Launch and on the third, a Saturday, tinkered with his GL1800 in his garage while our ladies did some shopping and then we strolled along the surf line on Playalynda Beach, flew a kite in the Atlantic breeze and finished the day with a huge steak, marinaded to our Host’s own recipe and cooked on his BBQ in his back yard.

Jerry's Magnificent Yamaha Royal Star - according to Randy it's a real challenge to ride for drill team purposes

The previous day, after watching the Shuttle Launch, about which more in a moment, we had eaten Gator (alligator tail, not a whole one of course, you have to work your way up to that) at a riverside eatery called the Lone Cabbage, for which “dilapidated shack” springs to mind as a first impression but “friendly and really relaxed ” is much closer to the mark once you’ve acclimatised.  It was quite a day.

Call me an anorak but I really enjoy discovering the ways in which our common language has diverged.  My latest addition to a collection of oddities emerged because Florida has just had an unusually cold winter, so cold in fact that that our Hostess, Cat Rodriguez, had to scrape frost of her car on at least two occasions which, for Florida, was something approaching outrageous.   Mind you she does start work at Cape Kennedy before 7am each day, so setting off before dawn and having to defrost her car is perhaps a bit much.   The Rodriguez family is normal by our standards in that only the GoldWing and its trailer live in the garage; their cars are on the drive outside. The trailer transports the Team’s PA system rather than camping equipment so randy and I are compatible in that respect too – and others for Randy is fond of  emphasising that he keeps in shape, adding after a brief pause that round is a shape.

Click on the image for a full size view. At this point they all need to be confident that everyone knows which way to turn next

Anyway, Florida suffered sustained temperatures in the twenties (Fahrenheit of course) so well below freezing, during December and January and the relatively coarse grass they use over here for lawns, so it can tolerate the heat, turns out to be so vulnerable to frost that they are having to get the lawn re-laid.  My wife and I already knew that turf is called “sod” in America; we had seen turf supply companies name themselves Such&such Sod Inc and the like, and we once saw a special offer as we drove past one inviting people to “Sod Today!”, which tickled us a bit.  But now we learned that in the American version of our language the act of laying turf is known as “throwing sod”.  It’s another world.

Nice place to watch a Shuttle Launch from

On Sunday morning most weekends the Team gathers for Practice on a huge Parking Lot in Orange City  – and that’s another difference between the two English languages: Americans don’t understand the term “Car Park” and when I used it I had to translate.

They rope off a remote part of it (about the size of two football pitches) which no one seems to mind. Some years ago they vaguely got permission from the then store manager to use a chunk of the parking lot outside for their practices, since when they have become accepted as part of the street furniture and no one really knows who owns the part they use anyway.  The parking lot is so big that an area the size of two football pitches can be roped off for the Teams use without inconveniencing anyone else one little bit; one thing they’re not short of in America is spacious parking lots.

Central Florida is a big place and many of the Team ride quite a distance to get to Practice – Randy for example rides for an hour and a half.  They have two Riders who live near Tampa.

By the way you probably know that distance is measured in time in America but maybe you didn’t know that the reverse is also true.  As we were driving on to Merritt Island to watch the Shuttle Launch the traffic built up and Cat announced that it would take ages to get there because it was another five miles; Randy corrected her to say it was only two miles.  Ah, she said, but it will be further in this traffic.  Men are always wrong, no exceptions.

However, back to Drill Team Practice where the Guys (a term which which includes the Gals in the Team of course) were walking one of the Routines as we arrived to join them, as shown in the picture which leads this Article.  This strange tribal ritual, or at least that’s what it looks like to the naive observer, is part of both training and practice sequences.  It’s like the Morris Dancing we have in quaint parts of England but without the sticks and bells . Actually Morris Dancing has spread widely in America – or at least according to Wikipedia it has – and there are two active groups in Florida, one in Gainsville and another in St Augustine.  The Special Relationship which our politicians value so highly is safe after all; England has its cultural fifth column securely in place.

Oddly enough it occurred to me that adding both bells and sticks could enhance the training and the spectator value of the Drill Team’s walking routines.  I’m not sure that Floridians (or at least the Southern Gentlemen among this Drill Team) could handle wearing flower- bedecked hats or garlands of bells round their legs, but maybe clashing sticks together to emphasise things at critical points, as Morris Dancers do, would do to start with.

Experience has taught the Drill Team that the sequence of turns you have to make and knowledge of which other rider you are supposed to formate upon at each stage of a Routine, and which side of each other rider you should be passing when it comes to close quarter turns requires certainty rather than ad hoc speculation.  Getting everything reliably inside your head before you try doing it on the bikes is more than just desirable.  One Team Rider currently carries the nickname T Ball, which is apparently not very flattering and refers to his special instructional needs; sometimes Team Humour has a purposeful edge to it.

Randy on the Dock with Misty Dog and Human Cat

They freeze the walking of a Routine every so often while so that the Leader can illustrate, by the displacement which had developed, what’s going wrong.  This also make the whole thing look to a spectator like a video replay which keeps getting stuck.   As I said, it’s quite like Morris Dancing and potentially completely baffling to watch unless you know what’s supposed to be happening, which only the other Team Members do.  So if you’re standing next to one watching things he will suddenly comment, perhaps with some irritation, that such-a-body is out of position or too early or too late with some manoeuvre.  I suppose Morris Dancers do the same sort of thing if they’re spectating.

Practice lasts from 9am to 12.30pm or even 1pm, by which time they’re all rather hot, especially the Harley’s motors (engines) which have to be given time out every so often; otherwise they sulk and leak oil more than usual.  The Team, if they were merely human, would probably be fairly tired by then as well as hungry.  The hunger they acknowledge and Liz and I were delighted to be invited to join them for lunch.  Lots of banter and leg pulling went on, as with any group of bikers.  And there was good food and good value; Mickey Finn’s in Orange City it is not your typical tourist eatery.

The Team has long incorporated solo routines in their displays as well as formation riding and the recruitment of ladies into the Team as Riders has opened up new possibilities.  Those of you who were lucky enough to see the Display in Blackpool will probably remember Smitty’s nifty trick of halting briefly alongside a lady standing in the centre of the Arena so she could hop on to the bike, side-saddle fashion, without him needing to put a foot down.  Well that Routine’s now been developed quite a bit. Since I couldn’t organise myself to video it you’ll have to settle for my description of it, as follows:

Meanwhile just across the Lake, Atlantis climbs silently skywards. The noise comes considerably later.

With the lady passenger (actually another Team Rider called Trudi) having hopped up on board, Smitty starts showing off as usual with a  few very tight, footpeg-scraping turns.  Then he also goes side saddle on the bike, opposite side to her.  He then slides backwards to join her on the rear seat.  At this point the couple are holding one handlebar grip each; nevertheless the bike continues to make smooth progress around the arena.

Trudi then moves forward onto the rider’s seat and takes over both grips leaving Smitty, spurned in the role of would-be suitor, isolated on the rear seat.  Trudi then shows that she can ride turns just as tightly and scrape Smitty’s footpegs just as noisily as he can.

Finally they swap seats again and Trudi ends up facing backwards on the rear seat, at which point the pair stand up simultaneously, leaning back to back and hold their arms out sideways as the Wing still continues effortlessly around the arena.  They still finish with the bit where another bike comes alongside and Trudi escapes on that rather than have to put up with Smitty any longer, but then that’s Smitty and women all over; he just can’t hang on to them at all.

Let’s hope we can get the Team back over to Blackpool soon to let us all see it.  Their next display is at Americade, in New York State, which is America’s biggest touring bike rally of the year and therefore the biggest in the world.  It’s held in the Adirondack National Park which is huge and riddled with lovely biking roads.  Interestingly the rally was originally called Aspencade, after a festival to celebrate the changing colours of the aspen (birch) trees.  This was way before Honda used the name for a GoldWing model.

Randy has a day job too of course, as do almost all the Team; he edits a Community Newspaper (and website) called Happenings which is distributed to the 11,000 homes in his local community, Port St John near Cocoa on the Space Coast.  This makes him quite well known in the local area, not least because he’s also a Realtor.  Realtors don’t appear to be held in quite the same low esteem as UK Estate Agents, even though their commission rates are quite a lot higher.  Maybe that’s because Americans have expensive lawyers (and doctors) to regard less favourably.

Cassie and Misty

Anyway Randy has lots of friends on the Space Coast including Chris and Sherri, a couple who both work “on the Cape” (i.e. at Kennedy Space Centre)  and just happen to own a lakeside home on Merritt Island (which also contains KSC) which has a dock (a jetty platform with seats) in their back yard (in their lakeside back garden) which provides an excellent vantage point for Shuttle Launches twenty miles or so to the North.  These good people very kindly allowed Randy and Cat to take us there to watch the Launch.

So instead of being boxed in with the huge crowds gathered on the shoreline we were sipping soda and chatting as Atlantis appeared (silently) above the tree line on the opposite side of the lake – and much closer than we could otherwise have got too.

Fortunately we were vaguely watching the clock while chatting and someone was facing the right way and noticed Atlantis rising majestically into the sky.  It takes a surprisingly a long time for the noise of the rocket motors to arrive.  Only two more Shuttle Launches are scheduled so if you’ve never seen one there not much more opportunity to do so.

As Mrs Beeton would have said, first shoot your Wild Turkey, then set up your outdoor Turkey Fryer (as seen on offer in a Great Outdoors Store)

The traffic along and away from the Space Coast after a Launch stays busy (and largely clogged up) for several hours so having the option to dally by the lakeside and alongside their pool where you have been invited to stay while sipping drinks and getting to know yet more really nice people was a real privilege.  Work and school starts early in the day in Florida and it doesn’t pause just for Shuttle Launches, so both Chris and Sherri had gone in very early to work that day so they could put the hours in and leave early to get back home before the Launch (and the traffic jams) and their daughter Cassie (at Grade School) somehow got back in time to see it too.  Stephanie, their elder daughter who is at High School had to stay on and arrived home later.

As the picture shows if you have your own pool you set your own rules,  so the family dog Misty is accustomed to enjoying a swim with however goes into the pool but isn’t allowed in on her own – and she knows it.  Fortunately both Cassie and Stephanie wanted to cool off in the pool after school so Misty got two swims that day.  In case you’re ever lucky enough to be in a similar situation, a Labrador which shakes as it gets out of a pool makes a great deal of spray but it’s a nice fine spray and by no means unpleasant when the air temperature is over 90, as it was that afternoon.

As I finish this Article Liz and I are back in our more familiar role as tourists, having checked into our Timeshare in Orlando. And there’s been a heavy thunderstorm here this afternoon, as often happens in may and beyond, so we’ve been sheltering indoors and I’ve had time to write this.  There has just been a news item on TV about a roundabout (they call them Traffic Circles over here and there are very few of them) which has just been built; the Authorities have felt it necessary to distribute leaflets to drivers to explain how to negotiate this novel road feature to reduce the risk of accidents.  Same language, different world.  I’ve been watch a Baseball Game on TV and trying to work out what’s supposed to be happening, so I know just how those drivers are going to feel when they get to that roundabout.

Picture taken from the BBC website - hope they don't mind!

Sorry the Blog has been a bit quiet lately. This is partly because I got involved in a charity collection for the victims of the Cumbria Floods.

The public have been extremely generous, recognising that this particular disaster is on home territory, a flooded home is a real tragedy to have to deal with and that it could easily have been our home which had been struck.

In the first weekend of collecting at a Garden Centre north of Preston over £5,000 was given. I think this is a really great testimony to the British people’s innate generosity towards others.

We were also collecting in the Centre of Preston and it was clear to see that the generosity went right across the community, all ages and ethnic groups were being generous. We were even getting £20 notes put in the buckets and there were lots of £5 notes.  At least three times as much was going into the buckets as might be expected from an average charity collection.

I was particularly touched when a boy of about ten or eleven, out in Town with his mate on a Sunday morning spotted the “Cumbria Floods Coolection” on my bucket, stopped, dug out the £1.50 or so in his pocket and put in a decent part of it. What a cracking young man; no parents to prompt him, he did it entirely off his own bat.

If your GoldWing or other Bike Club is into charity collections this is a very good opportunity. To make a collection on the streets you need a licence from the local Council but on private land – such as a Shopping Centre or Supermarket all you need is the landowner’s permission. Use sealed collecting cans or buckets if you can get hold of them and display your Club’s name as well as what you are collecting for so the public know you are not working a fiddle.

The money you raise can be sent to the Cumbria Community Foundation Fund.   This Fund was set up during the Foot and Mouth outbreak to support recovery and they have continued to support communities since then, including during the Carlisle floods a few years ago.  They are a very well managed organisation which works closely with communities and businesses in Cumbria and they have an excellent reputation for getting money to those in need quickly and efficiently without huge amounts of red tape.   Instructions for making donations are given on their website.  There are also facilities for individuals to make donations directly on line.

Postscript:  The collection I referred to in this Article has now raised over £10,000 after its second weekend, which is a tremendous testemony to the generosity of the public of the Preston area.  Over £6,000 of this money has already been sent to Cumbria and the rest will follow as quickly as practicable.

My worn out hip, the cartilage space between ball and socket has gone; bone on bone contact is what hurts when you walk. The extra nobbly bits around the ball are extra bone growth - trying to be helpful but actually limiting movement.

This Article may be of limited interest to bikers, even to those GoldWing riders who might be approaching the age when arthritis creeps up on you.

But I’ve just had a hip replacement, so I can’t do any biking to write about at the moment, and this topic might at least be of interest to some of you.

Normal hip, you can see a gap between ball and socket where the cartilage keeps the bones apart and provides a smooth sliding surface for joint movement

The techniques and technology of modern surgery are pretty awesome stuff.  Infection control is especially important in orthopaedic surgery because if any infection gets going in bones it can be extremely difficult to deal with, even with antibiotics, so they operate inside a sterile tent.

The method of a hip replacement are also very impressive, although in some respects it still pretty brutal stuff.  It is major surgery, it cannot be done bloodlessly, so recovery from hip surgery does involve giving the body time to muster its repair process and deal with the aftermath.

Recovery does therefore take a number of weeks and it does involve a bit of effort on your own part – including the patience not to overdo it, especially during the first two weeks or so, when your skin and muscles are repairing the damage which, of necessity, the operation did.  Too much too soon can aggravate this damage.

Thereafter it’s a question of no pain no gain, so exercises as taught and an effort to mobilise yourself rather than settle for being a couch potato – although fortunately there isn’t much pain really, it’s more a question of putting in the work to overcome stiffness and discomfort, to get yourself going again and to rebuild rebuild the strength in your thigh and buttock muscles to give you the stability and confidence in your new hip that you will achieve.

You are encouraged to resume a fully active life, excepting only such activities as involve risks of high speed falls (like skiing) because a fracture near an artificial joint can be very difficult to deal with.  And, fairly obviously, things like bungee jumping.  The leaflet I was given advises that normal sex can be resumed “with caution” after three weeks, which begs the question of what is normal and presumably depends on what you were capable of before the operation!

No driving (or riding) is allowed until you can reliably perform an emergency stop using the foot brake, which is around six weeks.  There certain hip movements you are supposed to avoid, in order not to risk dislocating the artificial joint, so for example no extreme internal or external rotation and no flexion beyond 90 degrees – so no lifting your knee above the horizontal  when standing.  I asked about getting my leg over (the bike) and my surgeon wasn’t particularly concerned about that sort of manoeuvre as a way of dislocating the new hip.    With a heavy bike like a GoldWing, which has a high fixed top box (trunk) and rear seat back,  I will however be proceeding with care when the time comes.  A few practice mounts and dismounts with the bike safely on its centre stand on level ground will be my approach.  A friend who has a GL1800 told me he found it surprisingly easy to get back to riding, so hopefully it won’t be too bad.

The hip joint is, as most people will know, a ball and socket joint, the ball being on the bent-over upper end of the thigh bone.  The bone is angled to allow an upright walking gait and to allow enough room around the joint for it to cope with the incredible range of movement which you see ballerinas and gymnasts engage in.  Coping with this wide range of movement without the ball popping out of the socket is only possible because there is an elaborate combination of muscles and ligaments around the joint, supporting and holding it in place.  There is even a ligament which is attached the end of the ball and the inside of the socket.

Walking practice at home - wearing shorts makes it easier to hitch up the Nora Batties

The stability of a replacement joint depends on retaining as many of these attachments and supports as possible, so the surgeon’s job is to get the old joint out and the new one in with the minimum damage.  He can’t just open things up wide and then stitch them up afterwards, it has to be much more of a shoehorning-in approaching.  The technique for achieving this has been improved and refined over the forty years or so that hip replacements have been done.  Controlling the risk of complications of hip surgery (mainly infection and blood clots) has also been improved so that although it is still major surgery, hip replacement is now a very reliable and low-risk process.

During the past two years my hip had been giving more and more trouble and for the past year I have been limping painfully and the distance I could walk was getting more and more restricted.  I had been hoping that an X Ray would show only mild changes and I would be thereby galvanised into losing weight, taking more exercise and recovering my lost youth.  No chance, the X Ray confirmed that my hip was well and truly knackered.  I could either continue to put up with the pain and the handicap or face up to needing a hip replacement.

One of the perks of private health insurance is that you can pick and choose a bit.  So the date for my operation was set some months ago, timed to allow me to get the best out of the biking season and, hopefully, to get mobile again for Christmas.  The surgeon put me in his operating diary and the insurance company agreed to pick up the tab, so it was more or less just a question of turning up on the day.  I met the anaesthetist before the operation and was relieved to discover that he was a personable chap.  He explained what would happen very clearly and I gained even more confidence that I would be in good hands.

At the appointed time, more or less to the minute, I walked (or rather limped, hopefully for the last time) from my hospital room along the corridor into the anaesthetic room, wearing one of those fetching  backless gowns, fortunately with my own dressing gown on top of it.  As an added indignity I was also wearing one white, full length, elasticated stocking, on my “good” side, heralding the hosiery I would have to get used to wearing 24 hours a day for the next few weeks, to reduce the risk of deep vein thrombosis.

I sat on the edge of a trolley as instructed to have the spinal anaesthetic injection then lay down as my toes first of all started tingling and then went numb, as gradually did everything else south of my navel.    I did surreptitiously check down below that everything was still present and correct but I felt a completely different man, as it were, a most odd experience.  I was still wide awake so I could see, although not feel, the Anaesthetist sticking more local anaesthetic into my groin, this time to block the femoral nerve.  I remember it being explained to me what was happening as a group of people slid me across from the trolley on to the operating table and then the next I knew was waking up and being group-slid again, this time back on to my bed, which had been brought into theatre for the purpose.

I felt like I had enjoyed a really nice nap, no grogginess at all.  I still couldn’t feel my feet and was surprised when I looked down to see they were spread apart when in my head they were still ankles-together, where I had left them.  I couldn’t move them of course and I felt absolutely no discomfort of any kind, just this feeling that I had had a nice nap, which I suppose I had.

The aim of anaesthetics is to control pain as well as consciousness and while once upon a time one anaesthetic gas (originally chloroform) did both jobs, the gas putting you so deeply asleep you don’t feel any pain either.  But you have to be very deeply asleep in order not to feel pain such as major surgery can cause, so high levels of anaesthetic gas sloshing around inside you and lingering for many hours afterwards are necessary and not without after-effects.  Much better to control pain separately, so you can be put to sleep lightly and wake up without after effects, as I did.

The spinal block (or epidural as it is also known) provides very effective pain control pain by switching off the nerve supply to the lower half of your body.  In the case of hip surgery, to make pain control even more certain, a femoral nerve block (the injection near the groin) is added to supplement the spinal block.  Happily there was no way I was going to feel anything of what the surgeon was going to do to my bones.

In theory I suppose I could therefore have stayed awake but it didn’t appeal much. And with hip surgery they need to fix your pelvis in a stable position quite firmly so they can drill straight and  in the right direction, so it was best to put me to sleep as well – and I certainly didn’t argue.  They used the same stuff that finished Michael Jackson off, but in my case only one dose was necessary and of course I hadn’t been given the bucketful of other sleeping drugs which poor Michael had previously resorted to beforehand.  It worked a treat, I woke up feeling rested and refreshed and completely unaware of whatever had been done to me.

The mechanics of the operation are quite interesting if you are a practical sort of biker. In essence the surgeon cuts the skin and then works his way in towards the joint by pushing things aside as far as practical rather than cutting through them, in order to preserve as much as possible of the supporting muscles and ligaments around the joint.

Once he has access to the upper end of the thigh bone he cuts off the ball end, pulls it free and then discards it.  With the ball cut away the surgeon can get access to the socket, into which he pushes a special cutting device, like a cup-shaped rotary file.

This is used to enlarge the socket to the correct size to take the new metal one, which is then tapped into place using a mandril and a hammer. In my case he used a 57mm cutter to pave the way for a 56mm socket.

The thigh bone is then trimmed back a bit and hollowed out (with a thing like a reamer) to create space for the metal shaft which carries the new ball to be tapped into place, again with a hammer.  The new ball is located into the new socket and the surgeon then works his way back out, tidying up and stitching up as he leaves.

The surgical part of the proceedings takes about 40 minutes and together with the time you spend in the anaesthetics room and being observed in recovery afterwards, it’s about 2 hours before you’re back in your room.

I didn’t sleep at all that first night, largely I suspect because of the artificially induced afternoon nap I had had, but I was also required to stay flat on my back with my legs separated by a wedge-shaped cushion, the idea being to prevent me from turning over and crossing my legs, which at this early stage of settling in could easily dislocate my new hip joint.  I found it very difficult to get the hang of sleeping on my back although I did eventually manage it.

My son had undergone back surgery  a few months earlier and he told me that his hospital existence had involved sleeping at funny times and being awake watching TV at funny times too, so I didn’t get too bothered about not sleeping overnight and instead watched TV in the small hours and napped from time to time during the day.

I was on intravenous fluids (i.e. a drip) and it was fascinating to see containers of fluid flowing into one tube in my arm and coming out of another tube further down.  My kidneys certainly weren’t taking time out and it was clearly useful to be plumbed in;  it would have been quite a challenge keeping up with that rate of production using those papier-mâché bottles they supply as the alternative.  I wasn’t exactly feeling like getting up to go to the loo in the middle of the night either of course so one way and another the plumbing felt quite useful.   It occurred to me that there might be advantages to a biker in such a system because I can only manage about half the mileage my GL1800 fuel tank is capable of these days before a toilet stop.

So at this stage, although I struggled to sleep on my back and was a bit uncomfortable and restricted in being able to prop myself up to eat, it really wasn’t too bad.  I would have depended entirely on other people for help if the hospital had caught fire because the bed wasn’t drivable, but it had powered everything else and pressing all the buttons to see what effect they had was really quite fun. The daily routine in hospital involves getting you to stand up and, remarkably quickly, walk with a frame (very slow) then crutches (much better and much easier than you expect) and within a day or two you are able, with care, to get up and go to the toilet without help and to stand under a shower.  I was able to walk with two crutches and get up and down stairs on the fourth day after the operation, prior to being discharged from hospital on the fifth, which is par for the course.  Incredible really, but it happens.

I’m now two and a half weeks post-operation and walking really quite easily using one crutch.  The swelling and bruising in my operated-on leg has more or less gone.  I was stiff and awkward for a while, especially the first couple of days after leaving hospital,  which is not surprising; the surgeon did after all have to do quite a bit of digging and poking a round in there.  Pain wasn’t a problem at any stage;  such pain and discomfort as I suffered was far less than I expected and easily controlled with the medication I was given; I was much more concerned about getting constipated!

A worrying and dangerous episode did happen on the day after my discharge from hospital but it wasn’t anything to do with my hip surgery at all.   I went back to hospital with my friend Bill because he needed a last-minute specialist eye check to get clearance to go on his holidays the following day.  (I was his chaperone, to make sure he talked sense to the doctors, which would otherwise have been uncertain.)  We were dropped off at the entrance by our wives and we commandeered a wheel chair, so I wouldn’t have to do the long walk through the hospital to the eye clinic on my crutches, which I was only just beginning to get the hang of.  So far so good, this was becoming a bit of an adventure.

Hospital wheel chairs do however have rear wheel steering and it would be fair to say that Bill didn’t immediately take to this.  We weaved at high speed (Bill has never been one to dally) along the corridors.   Bill didn’t seem notice either my pleas to slow down a bit nor the people who were scattering in our path as we tore along.  Fortunately we got to the eye clinic in one piece and we had only hit the walls a couple of times and no one had actually been injured.  Terrorised maybe but not physically injured.  Bill had his eye check and was eventually pronounced fit to go on holiday, which of course he was greatly relieved about, ecstatic even.

Those of you who have had specialist eye examinations will be aware that they involve using eye drops to dilate your pupils, to help the specialist get a good view of  the inside of your eyes.  These make your eyesight distinctly blurred and you are advised not to drive for a few hours.

So as we set on our journey back through the hospital we had the additional complication of Bill’s blurred vision.  This didn’t slow him down at all, he was clearly keen top get back to our wives with the good news and he set off with gusto.  The eye drops must have affected his hearing too because he didn’t hear my screams, nor the sounds of collision and chaos we left in our wake as patients and visitors scattered from our path.  We got lost too, because the corridors were really quite confusing and Bill wouldn’t slow down to let me read the signs, convinced that he knew the way back.

Somehow we made it back to the main entrance where we abandoned the wheelchair as quickly as possible, in case Security were already hunting for us.  We made as casual, but hasty an exit as my limited mobility would allow.

Suddenly, as we emerged into bright sunshine, Bill got his comeupance and our roles were reveresed.  His dilated pupils couldn’t shut out the sunlight and he couldn’t see a thing; he had no option but to close his eyes altogether.  The only way he could find his way back to the car in the sunshine was to hold on to me like a blind man.  What we looked like to the motorists who stopped at the zebra crossing as I shuffled across on crutches and Bill followed, hand on my shoulder with eyes closed, I can hardly imagine. Like something out of Last of the Summer Wine I suppose.

So there are far more dangerous things in life than hip surgery, for example letting your biker mate drive you around in a hospital wheelchair.

Waiting for a second lease of life - Steve';s GL1000

I recently was watching TV with the family, in fact it was the film Charlie’s Angel’s to be honest and I was trying to compare it to the original series in the 70’s (That’s my excuse anyway!).  As it turned out it was a good film, the kids loved it and it had some excellent songs on the soundtrack too.

But what grabbed my attention was a song playing in the background during the restaurant scene.  I had heard it so many times but never knew who sung it.  All I knew was it was sung in Japanese and the tune had been playing over in my mind again and again for years.  It eventually got to the stage in the film where I was eagerly reading down the credits to find out the song title, but it was not there!

Anyhow a few days later I was on line and I thought I would check out the soundtrack through Amazon (being a bit of a computer nerd) and to my dismay the song was not listed on the movie soundtrack CD.   I played the 25 second previews of each track and began to get really frustrated.

So the next step was to Google it and eventually 2 hours later I had found the song I’d been searching for.  Amazing what you find with a little perseverance and patience.  It is called “Ue O Muite Aruko”, or in English “I look up when I walk” and was originally released under the name “Sukiyaki” in the USA in 1963, the year I was born.  I was ecstatic .

The singer was a young Japanese heart throb at the time called Kyn Sakamoto.  But he was unfortunate enough to have been killed in a plane crash in 1985.  So even though he is now no longer with us his song is still here to make people like me happy and think of those times way back in the seventies.

In fact it was in 1975 I can remember as a 12 year old seeing for the first time my first Honda GL1000 K1 in red.  I was taken aback by its size and style and I still think to this day it is a fantastic GoldWing.  Due to this memory I decided to buy one back in 1983 at the age of 20.  I rode it every day I could until 1990 then I had to consider a young growing family and was forced to put the bike in the garage and drive cars instead.

Well,  last year I could not hold out anymore and bought my present bike, my pride and joy “Heavenly Louise” and yes  I have kept that little K1 to this very day hoping one day to bring her back to life.

So there you have it 2 great things to come out of Japan, firstly a beautiful song in 1963 and the Honda GL1000 Goldwing 1975, the start of all we have today in our world of GoldWings.

And I am sure when I am long gone my bikes will make someone else happy too, just like Kyn Sakamoto’s song does today.  Click on it to listen.

Wingless in Limone

As soon as the dust had settled after the Blackpool Light Parade my wife and I set off on holiday, as indeed did three other couples who had been in the Organising Team.  The Event had gone as well as we could have hoped given the weather and a few other problems, and we had enjoyed ourselves but we were also ready for a break.

One couple flew to Florida, carrying with them, as a present from his Light Parade friends, a plastic inflatable sheep.  This was for Smitty, our incurably bachelor Motorcycle Drill Team solo rider of last year’s BLP, in case his seemingly inexhaustible supply of lady companions ever runs out.  Two more couples rode off to Italy on their GoldWings to spend a week based in Limone on Lake Garda.

My terminally arthritic hip restricted my wife and I to four wheel touring for this holiday, so we also set off hoping for some Italian sunshine but in our motorhome, leaving the bike and its trailer at home for a change.  This holiday was planned some time ago to give my hip a last (gentle) outing before it gets traded in for a “metal on metal” replacement in a few days time.  My wife and I did of course have slightly different aims.  Management, as she is respectfully referred to in our household, planned to stimulate the Italian economy by buying lots of colourful ceramics as family Christmas presents (she likes to get well ahead with these things) while my aim was to spend as much time a possible sitting in the sunshine, reflecting idly on this and that and watching the world go by while reading a book or two.

On a clear day you can see for ever......

Hence the Blog has been a bit quiet for the past three weeks, although I did manage the occasional tweek from afar by visiting internet cafes.  So my apologies for neglecting the Blog somewhat, which I will try to make up for over the next few weeks, when I should have plenty of time to tap at the keyboard between spells of physiotherapy.

We had no definite destination in mind and other than booking a Eurotunnel return crossing, we had made no commitments.  I fancied the Mosel Valley in Germany and Management fancied Italy, so of course we ended up in Italy, although we did go there via the Mosel, spending one night on the banks of the river and another night near Lake Constance en route, so I did get my ration of gulaschsuppe.

The “Stellplatz” (a designated overnight motorhome parking place) we found on the banks of the Mosel was in a lovely spot and would have been tempting as a place tostay for a day or three and watch the world go by but the weather was turning cloudy and showery so we decided to move on, hoping better weather would materialise.

... with private parking closeby

Both France and Germany (but especially Germany) provide extremely well for motorhomes on tour.  There are lots of these designated overnight parking areas for motorhomes, many of them also providing facilities for dumping tanks and filling up with fresh water.  They are either free or very cheap, so although all the schools were back in session and the high tourist season was over, there were plenty of older couples touring in motorhomes and using these for extended stays as a cheaper alternative to proper camping sites.  Although they were being well used, there was at least usually room for us when we wanted it.  It is also permitted, and usually quite safe, to park overnight on one of the many roadside lay-bys which are scattered across rural France and Germany so we spent our second night in one of those.

By this time we had been tipped off by some Brits we met about an annual directory of Stellplatz called the Reisemobil Bord Atlas (available on the internet, 2009 edition was 19€, 2010 edition due in November 2009,  http://www.vicarious-shop.co.uk) and we managed to buy a copy from a motorhome dealer’s shop.  It’s written in German but it contains a map and also the addresses, postcodes and even the latitude and longitude of the parking places and even pictures of them, so the language barrier was not really a problem.  So our third night was spent on a Stellptatz listed in this Directory just outside a Campsite by Lake Constance, which was an area we had never been to.

Translates as "Not suitable for bikes in winter"

The Stellplatz was perfectly OK and for 12€ we had level parking and access to the campsite’s facilities too if we wanted them. But the campsite was, perhaps typically of many Continental campsites, something of a shanty town of closely packed caravans on tiny plots, many of them semi-permanently sited, even though they were touring-type caravans.  And the Lake itself, on the day we were there, was misty and grey with a barren, pebbly beach which didn’t appeal much, so maybe we need to explore a different part of that area to give it a proper go.

In the prevailing cloudy and occasionally drizzly conditions, we preferred to move on; a peculiar type of weather system was hovering over Southern Germany, Austria and Northern Italy imposing sustained cloudy and damp weather but it couldn’t be helped.  We might as well keep moving in the hope that it wouldn’t last for ever and when the weather did improve, we would be where we wanted to be to enjoy it.

Austria is a lovely Country for a motorhomer, as of course for a biker, and apart from fabulous scenery and good roads, one of its attractions is cheaper fuel than its neighbours, roughly 10% below the prices in either Germany or Italy, so when you are visiting or passing through it makes economic sense to top up before leaving, which we did.  A less attractive feature of Austria for motorhoming is however a somewhat cumbersome system of paying for motorway travel which, in the case of a motorhome which exceeds 3.5 tons, as ours does, means pre-paying  a mileage charge by obtaining an electronic blue box which you have to carry on board – so you have to collect one of these on entry and, presumably, hand it in again as you leave the Country.  Crossing from Germany into Italy via Austria is however possible via non-motorway roads, which we found perfectly adequate, so I didn’t bother with Austrian motorways at all.  Incidentally for vehicles under 3.5 tons, including bikes, the system is much simpler and merely requires buying a permit (called a vignette) for which a modest daily fee is payable.

Hazardous area for credit cards

Driving from Southern Germany into Northern Italy is however easily achievable in a day so I have yet to experience an overnight stay in Austria simply because it is easier (and cheaper) to drive straight through.  No doubt we have been missing something doing it this way and the two couples who rode their Wings to Lake Garda spent two nights in Innsbruck and described it as a lovely city which you really must visit at least once before you die.

When you get to my age you start to count your blessings for the years you’ve had, the places you’ve been and the grandchildren you’ve accumulated and my ambitions to visit all the world’s attractive places has shrunk somewhat, but I really do like the Alpine Countries so I suppose I’ll have to try to squeeze Innsbruck into a biking tour somehow.  Maybe I’ll have to prioritise and give motorcycling tours to Africa and the Indian sub-continent a miss.  I can’t really see myself doing a Macgregor/Borman thing anyway; I’d rather stick to tarmac roads and a GoldWing than have to ride one of those BMW things.

So, we crossed the border into Italy using the Resia Pass, which is an easy and scenic route suitable for motorhomes or bikes, to stay for a couple of days at Mals (Italian name Malles Venosta) on a stunningly beautiful campsite which enjoys all round spectacular mountain scenery as well as excellent facilities – even including WiFi at reasonable cost.

Gulash Soup - German recipe but sold all over the Alps

The Venosta Valley is part of a self-governing region of Italy called South Tyrol, which is largely German in culture and language and indeed until the First World War was part of Austria. It was taken over by Italy as a reward for picking the right side, the advantage to Italy being that the mountain passes provided much more easily defendable national borders than previously.  Moving the border has had no impact on the architecture or culture or even the language, so it is a very Alpine place, German is the first language and the restaurants offer conspicuously Austrian/German dishes like my favourite, Goulash Soup.

South Tyrol is also a very tidy, well ordered place – not that the rest of Italy isn’t reasonably tidy, but you do notice a difference.  As a base for a motorcycling (or walking, or mountain biking) holiday, Mals has a great deal to offer, including of course the famous Stelvio Pass, which is something of a Mecca for bikers.  It is the third highest in Europe and has a spectacular, and challenging, array of tight hairpin bends – between forty and fifty of them on either side.

The Stelvio Pass - unsuitable for motorhomes!

On my last holiday in this Area two years ago, also in motorhome but with the Wing in a trailer,  my ambitions to ride this Pass had been frustrated because we were too early (late May) and it was still closed to traffic and reported to be under a meter of snow on the top.   It’s usually only open from mid June to mid September and I had failed to check.

On this visit the Pass was still open but of course I had no bike with me – but I discovered that buses run to and from the top of the Stelvio from Mals, so I could at least experience the Pass as a passenger which might come in very useful before trying to ride it myself next time.   So the following morning, September 14^th,  we were up nice and early and down at the Bus Station in plenty of time for the 9.05am departure only to find, as we walked up to the relevant bus stop, a member of staff changing over the timetable to the winter version, which took effect that very day.  The buses to Stelvio were no longer running, or at least the ones we could make use of weren’t.  So my efforts to ride the Stelvio, even as a bus passenger, were frustrated yet again. As Arnie or rather one of his characters, is often quoted as saying: “I’ll be back”.

Onward then into Italy, aiming to spend some time near Lake Garda and in some sunshine, which unfortunately was still nowhere to be seen. But as we drove does the Venosta Valley towards Lake Garda there were lots of apples to be seen, literally millions of them, mostly growing on low shrub-like trees supported on frames, much like vines are.  The number and size and variety of apples to be seen on these little trees was simply staggering.  And when we did get around to buying some they were absolutely delicious too.  They put our UK supermarket apples to shame; I really cannot remember eating such crisp, juicy and delicious apples since scrumping for apples in Cornwall in childhood, in the days when apples were still a seasonal fruit in UK.

Early morning in Malcesine

Using our out of date Caravan Club site directory we found a likely Site close to a picturesque tourist town called Malcesine on the East bank of the Lake.  The attraction for us, and especially for my hip, was that this Site was said to be urban while most campsites around Lake Garda are a mile or so out of town.  What followed could have turned into one of those satnav disasters when large vehicles get stuck in narrow and unsuitable roads but fortunately, as we turned off the main road into what I (and the satnav) thought was the approach to the Site, a helpful Senora came rushing out of her Fruit & Veg Shop waving her arms to stop us going any further.  Since I had also spotted some permanent-looking concrete bollards a few meters ahead, I wasn’t planning to argue.

Happily the Site did still exist and we were fairly close to it, so with the Senora’s help we found the entrance.  It was difficult to spot from the direction which we had approached and it was down an unlikely-looking and steeply-sloping narrow roadway alongside the Senora’s Shop.  Down we went, gingerly, to find ourselves in a different world; it was a campsite, there were terraced hard-standing pitches, the proprietor was welcoming and spoke English as advertised in the directory.  In no time at all we were tucked into a small but adequate pitch which even had a partial view of the Lake.  We plugged into the electricity, the kettle on and the tea was brewed. The sun wasn’t shining yet but the location of this Site was very promising; it was a pleasant location and would allow my dodgy hip to take me into the town.  So we relaxed, enjoyed an evening meal and a glass or two of wine in the motorhome and looked forward to a few days in Malcesine.

Special provision made for tourists

At 3am we were woken by wind and heavy rain and the fruit on the tree we were parked under, strange-looking green things, possibly unripe nectarines, bounced energetically up and down on the roof.  Very heavy rain continued without interruption until early evening.  Management spent the day indoors reading, breaking her silence occasionally to mutter something about the unseasonable sunny weather the UK was having being grossly unfair, and I ventured out wearing a pair of Crocs and carrying an umbrella to encounter deserted streets along which veritable rivers of storm water were flowing.  It really did seem to very unlucky to have driven over 1,000 miles to find ourselves enduring typical Lancashire weather in Italy while back home in Lancashire, we were being told, the sun was “cracking the flags”.  This was also the day on which the GoldWing quartet were supposed to be riding from Innsbruck down to Limone, their holiday destination on the other side of the Lake, so we assumed, correctly as we subsequently learned, that they were getting quite a soaking.

Happily this spell of heavy rain cleared things up and apart from to odd spot or two which really didn’t matter, we subsequently enjoyed good weather for the rest of the holiday and mostly warm sunshine too.  And we made several rendezvous with our proper biker friends, both on their side of the Lake and on ours, saw several passing GoldWings, including one with Finnish number plates, which was a first for me, and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.

Finish Wing spotted in Malcesine

Both Malcesine and Limone are attractive holiday destinations.  During our time there we enjoyed a cable car ride to the top of Monte Baldo where we saw paragliders launching themselves boldly from the top, a hydrofoil boat ride along most of the length of the Lake to Sirmione, another lovely little place, and I even managed a bit of sitting in the sun doing nothing very much at all.  And as a bonus, Management changed her mind about buying up Malcesine’s stock of colourful pots, so as we set off again Northwards and homewards, I was sad to be leaving but happy that we had enjoyed a really nice time there and the motorhome was loaded up with wine rather than crockery.

Mettlach, Villeroy & Boch Outlet across the car park

Of course I counted my chickens about the pottery thing far too early, when we happened to choose a German Stellplatz close to the Luxembourg Border.  I realised I was in trouble as soon as Management spotted that there was an Outlet Store for the Villeroy & Boch Factory, which happens to be in this Town.  The following morning her invasion of these premises started immediately after breakfast, although it did suffer a short delay until the place actually opened up for business.  Why did they have full sized shopping trolleys for a crockery shop I wondered?

The nice things about this shop were the Cafe and, an important attraction for the wandering motorhomer, a really nice toilet.  So while Management wandered round and round the shop, I took myself off for a coffee and a pastry, then enjoyed a leisurely call of nature, then another coffee and, I’m afraid, another pastry.  Management joined me for the second coffee and at that stage her trolley was reassuringly lightly loaded – so things were going surprisingly well.  There was too much choice; she couldn’t decide.

Visitors mounting up to ride back to Limone

But her little grey cells were clearly still churning over the options and suddenly, within a space of only a few more minutes the trolley was piled high.  The credit card took a serious pasting.

However my biggest  mistake was accepting her offer to wheel the trolley back across the car park to reclaim the Euro coin.  It was no more than 200 yards but she disappeared from sight and finally reappeared, carrying yet more Villeroy & Boch bags, some 30 minutes later.  So if you are ever  tempted to stop in a pretty little riverside German town called Mettlach,  just outside Luxemburg, don’t believe for a moment that the Stellplatz only costs 5€, it costs a great deal more than that.

Italian Umpah Band - colourful and entertaining

Fortunately fuel is even cheaper in Luxembourg than in Austria, so by scraping the barrel for our remaining Euros we could still afford to drive back to Calais to make our return  to UK via Eurotunnel, the ticket for which was pre-paid. And as we drove from the Tunnel along the M25 towards our daughter’s home in Surrey we got a text message to say that our latest granddaughter had been born at 5am that morning.  Mother and baby were well.  A few hours later, as I cradled the little bundle in my arms, the Villeroy & Boch experience was completely forgotten.

Oh dear, hit a tree

In a previous Article on this Blog I wrote about my adventures using a motorhome as a base for GoldWing touring, towing the bike in a trailer in order to enjoy exploring the Alps or some other distant motorcycling area with the advantage of sleeping in your own bed every night.

Unfortunately my motorhome, a Hymer, suffered minor damage a while ago and I had to get it fixed.  The firm who did the repair, Motorhomes UK Ltd,  did such a good job at such a reasonable price that I thought they deserved a bit of public praise.

My “van” has a fibreglass moulding across the top rear and, not uncommonly with production mouldings, must have had an air bubble under the gel coat on the corner, where the underlying woven rovings had not been pressed firmly into contact when it was being constructed.  The result was a very thin and fragile gel coat skin over a hole which was prone to damage.  From feint witness marks near the hole it was probably contact with a tree branch which broke the gel coat “roof” of this hole.  Whatever it was it needed repairing.

Beautifully repaired

I took it to the Hymer Dealer and they quoted £282 but explained that they would probably not repair it themselves; they passed “small” repairs like this to a “specialist” outside firm.

I also rang another Hymer specialist, who had done a repair on our last motorhome, when the stump of a tree branch dug a groove in the side of the van as I turned too tight.  He filled and textured the repair to match the dimpled surface very cleverly indeed.  It had been an expensive repair (over £1,000) but the alternative had been to replace the whole side of the motorhome with a new skin, so I was more than happy.  This time,  without seeing the damage, he estimated £450.  Even allowing for the fact that he hadn’t seen the damage and might therefore be rounding things up a bit, this seemed expensive.

Proprietor Andy outside his workshop

My ever-useful friend Bill reminded me about MotorhomesUK Ltd, which specialises in repairing accident damage motorhomes and caravans, although they also do other bodywork and interior modifications and repairs.  Quite a lot of their work is done for the motorhome and caravan trade but their expert sprayers are pretty versatile and they painted my trailer to match my motorhome and Bill even trusted them to re-spray his bike.

Skilled contouring in progress

They operate from a large unit on an industrial estate in Bamber Bridge, near Preston, so only a few miles form my home.  Their quote was also less than half the Hymer Dealer’s, for whom it turned out they did quite a lot of body repairs.

I don’t know why I didn’t go the them in the first place – oh yes I do, it was the vague prospect of getting the repair done under guarantee by Hymer because it was a collapsed air bubble, which of course tunred out not to be covered. Guarantees aleways seem to turn out to be riddled with exclusions these days, although in this case there were marks suggesting physical impact, so I couldn’t really complain.

Behind the caravan is the huge spray booth and "cooker"

As you will see from the pictures Motorhomes UK did an excellent job.  You really cannot see where the hole was, nor any trace of the edges of where they re-sprayed with matching paint.  It looks just as good six months later.

Big workshop, plenty going on

Once upon a time oil-based paints were used for autorepairs but not these days, all paints are water based.  This makes them much safer to apply but they require “cooking” to cure, so specialist spray booths are needed.  There can also be problems matching colours but Motorhomes UK achieved a perfect match.

Premises in Bamber Bridge

The specialist nature of getting a good and durable colour match explained why the Hymer Dealer would have passed the repair on anyway rather than attempt it themselves; only specialist bodyshops have these facilities to do a proper job these days.

So, if you are unlucky enough to suffer damage to a motorhome or caravan, it will pay to shop around rather than accept the first quote and also to look around for a specialist repairer, like Motorhomes UK Ltd.  I was extremely pleased with the repair which Andy Degnen and his Team did on my Hymer.  It would be worth talking to them, even if you live some way away.

The quality of their spray painting work is first class.

Andy’s number is 01772 626908.

Kevin Crawford, currently detained in one of HM Prisons

Kevin and Betty Crawford, of Childwall, Liverpool, owners of a GL1500SE and described in Court as active Members of a GoldWing Club, were sentenced to imprisonment earlier this week when they were both convicted of Benefits Fraud.  Between them they had fraudulently claimed nearly £50,000 over the past three years.  They started claiming benefits 17 years ago.

But Fraud Investigators were reported to have spotted them on their Club’s website enjoying a biking lifestyle and this triggered suspicion.  They were subsequently observed riding their bike together and camping at a biking event.  Kevin was also seen working up a ladder fitting windows; he has been running his own business as well as claiming benefits for some years.

Kevin was supposed to be barely able to walk because of a damaged knee cap and Elizabeth, as she was referred to in Court, claimed to be unable to walk or climb stairs or even to go to the toilet without assistance because of arthritis.  Yet they attended a series of biking events, some of which they were said to have helped organise.

Kevin was sentenced to 18 months in jail, Betty got a suspended sentence of 6 months.

The story of their Court appearance made all the national newspapers, pictures of them on their bike were made widely published and much was made of their privledged biking lifestyle.  There are pictures on YouTube as well.  Google “kevin crawford goldwing” if you would like to see the reports and images.  The Daily Mail website provides facilities for the public to comment and there have been lots of comments.

This couple were condemned as cheats by the Judge and they have also been condemned on biker’s forums since the story broke.

Betty Crawford, who received a suspended prison sentence

Who in the UK GoldWing Community will have any sympathy for them? Maybe their friends in their Club will feel sorry that they have been so greedy, and of course so stupid as to do this thinking they would continue getting away with it while rding around on a GoldWing.

Most Wingers work long and hard to earn the money to buy their bikes and they pay taxes on their earnings, same as everyone else.  There can be little doubt that this couple have done the reputation of Wingers among bikers and in the Community as a whole no good at all.  Nor of course have they done anything for the standing of their Club, which was named in Court, nor its camping events.

The Crawfords face further legal proceedings to recover what they have fraudulently claimed in July, so their £10,000 savings will be at risk.  Maybe their GL1500SE will be confiscated or have to be sold off too.  Maybe they will be forced to sell their house at a time when they will get a low price for it as well.

And Kevin will miss most of the 2009 biking season, even if he serves only a third of his sentence, which is apparently the norm for jail terms under four years.  Of course he might get released even earlier because of the current shortage of prison places, lots of prisoners are.

Kevin & Betty enjoying happier times

In another recent news item it was revealed that prisoners who are released early are paid £168 per week to compensate them for the value of the free board and lodgings they are losing by being released early.  This compares with Job Seekers Allowance of £60.50 if you’re over 25, otherwise £47.95, which you get providing you’ve paid the qualifying contributions.

Of course the Benefits Agency (or whatever it’s called nowadays) will only be able to claim back the benefits they can prove were obtained fraudulently, so presumably they won’t be going for the seventeen years worth of benefits Kevin has had, just the last three, while they’ve been watching him.   Kevin was presumably still unable to walk much when he started his window business six years ago, so he’ll get to keep the benefits he claimed then, even if he could work up ladders by the time the Fraud Investigators started taking an interest in him.

So it’s a tough life being a caught-out benefit fraudster, even if he does also have human rights.  For the time being Kevin is in jail.

Is anyone going to be rushing to help this couple put their tent up if they turn up at another GoldWing camping event when Kevin gets out?  Maybe not.

With a 5-lb potato bag in each hand, extend your arms straight out from your sides and hold them there as long as you can. Try to reach a full minute, and then relax.

Each day you’ll find that you can hold this position for just a bit longer. After a couple of weeks, move up to 10-lb potato bags.

Then try 50-lb potato bags and then eventually try to get to where you can lift a 100-lb potato bag in each hand and hold your arms straight for more than a full minute. (I’m at this level.)

After you feel confident at that level, put a potato in each bag.