2 years of New Hoon, 9 years of biking

On valentines day this year, I will have had my Hornet for two years. Before you ask, I didn't buy myself a bike on valentines, but I did pick it up that day. At the time I lived at the other end of the country from my other half, so she and I weren't able to spend the actual day together and it didn't interrupt anything.

Two years have seen new hoon and me do a lot, running from one end of the country to the other. We've blitzed the lakes and the penine moors, we've run around parts of the countryside I never new existed and generally had a bloody good time together.
But it has made me reflect back on my time as a biker, and I realised I've now been biking for 8 years. Which given that I am only just 30, is pretty stunning. I know, I know, you've all been driving since you were 17, but I didn't bother. I went round Europe instead with the money I would've used. And besides, for as long as I can remember as a child (still am), I've only ever had biking in my soul.

So at 21ish, out of uni and into my first job, I finally got the chance. Did my CBT in the summer of 2004 and, with the grace of my parents, obtained my first ride. Unlike many who did CBTs I didn't want anything other than a geared motorbike (no scooters for me). So I looked around, and eventually found a brand new Kymco CK 125.

They're basically knock off Honda CG125's, but was a clear £800 cheaper and ran brilliantly. Of course, I loved being a biker, even though my trusty steed maxed out around 50mph and looked like a child's trike underneath me at times. I was proud to be a biker and drove it everywhere, which very nearly did for me, very quickly.

Two weeks into having the bike I drive it to scouts (I was a leader, before you ask) and a blue Mercedes pulled out of a side road in front of me without looking, and before I knew it I was on the floor. My memory of the event is fragmented because it did knock me out briefly as my noggin played with the tarmac, but I remember two things:

My worst fear, lying there, was that I knew full well that my father (with whom I should have got a lift, but I was stupid) was driving along the same route any minute and would find me lying there. He did, as the ambulance was picking me up.

The second thing I remember was a pair of feet appearing in front of me as I'm lying on the ground and me asking who in the hell just pulled out on me. The feet answered:

'Erm... That was us. Sorry.'

To be fair, the pair that were in the car were mortified (the guy didn't know what to say is all). His wife was driving and apparently she was so upset she had to be helped out of the car.

For my part, other than a lot of bruising on my legs (I had somehow ended up under the bike) I was largely fine. Now and even back then I bear no ill will towards the couple in the car, largely because it was a simple accident and they did everything possible to ensure I was ok and any damage settled. So the bike was repaired (not that there was much damage), I got a small amount of money (we only ever asked for a small amount because I couldn't work. I never wanted to extort money like people do now) and my biking went on.

Madly, I went about on that motorbike for about 2 and a half years. I remember once even driving it as far as Salisbury (and on a geared 125 that took a LONG time), but eventually all knock off technologies fail and when I moved to Preston in 2007, the bike swiftly let go of 2nd gear selection. Rather than get a costly fix for a now unsuitable bike, I did my DAS and upgraded.

Originally I wanted a Fazer. Loved those bikes, and was pretty set on one. But as I went into the Honda garage, I came across this thing sat in the corner, and my heart was set.

Now this was proper biking. I remember with vivid recall the first time I overtook a lorry on a full size bike. It was a tanker lorry on a country lane, clear skies, a brilliant view, and my instructors voice in my radio saying 'GO GO GO!'.

I never really stopped after that.

Its amazing the difference that it makes being on a full bike. You can go on motorways, you can carry passengers. You can, if you're very lucky, even look cool occasionally. But it's the way you feel that makes the difference. The bike is more responsive than any car. The movement of the bike is the movement of your own body and vice versa. The difference between stationary and 70 is a flick of the wrist. And whilst it is often a somewhat lonely experience on long journeys, it is worth it for the thrill of being able to run the roads the way bikers can.

One of the odd elements of it that car drivers don't get to experience is the amount you get to see. Bikers aren't restricted by bulkheads in their view of the passing world, and you'd be surprised what a difference this makes when you are arcing down a country lane towards a vibrant sunset, or over a ridgeline towards a verdant valley.

So I was sold on it. And the Hoon was my only mode of transport for the next few years. At one point I moved to Manchester and commuted to Preston with a car, but the Hoon was still my secret love.

Until October 2009, when she was stolen. The people that took her destroyed her lock, lifted her, all 150kg of her, over a garden wall, dragged her away and tried to start her. Failing, they did what all such people do. They trashed her. So when the bike was found a day and a half later, the handlebars were twisted, the ignition destroyed, the fuel tank wrecked where they'd tried to set her on fire.

I subsisted with a car from then on until early 2011, when thanks in part to my now other half coming with me to see some bikes on a whim whilst shopping, I got the bug and went and found New Hoon.

I'd always coveted the 900 Hornet even whilst on the Old Hoon, because of the extra power and the beautiful exhaust profile, so I deliberately looked for another hornet at that point, and found my little gem. I've been running on her ever since, having part-exed my car in order to do so. Sitting on that bike in the shop was like coming home. It was like Sheldon and his Spot.

Yes, we are far more vulnerable on bikes, but it is worth it. And it's not as dangerous as you think if you run sensibly. For all of the near misses I have had over the years (which aren't that vast in number), I have had some utterly amazing experiences whilst biking, and don't intend on giving it up any time soon.

Personally, I run on a set of rules that I keep to with rigid attention, and they've pretty much kept me alive.

1. Never overtake unless you can see all of the road ahead sufficient to cleanly overtake. Don't go squeezing down stupid gaps and don't try sliding round on blind corners on the central line. Always use the lanes properly.
2. Never filter along traffic at a total velocity of more 10mph greater than the general flow. And never filter once the flow is above 50mph (e.g. you can filter on a motorway at 50, but only if the flow is doing 40.)
3. When changing lanes, always check your blind spots. Preferably multiple times.
4. Wheelies, endos and other tricks are for idiots. The first, best and only achievement of biking is to get there alive and intact.
5. Expect drivers to be idiots. Most of the time you will be pleasantly surprised, but on the bad times you won't be surprised at all.

Of course, there have been a few near misses:

But they're more than made up for by the wonderful experiences I've had, the wonderful places and experiences the bikes have taken me, and the ones I will have to come.

I will continue to be a biker as long as I am able.

A theme on your variation

Well this was meant to be a post about motorcycling, but things have changed this week due to a different variation in my life.

Having had a wonderful birthday and wonderful valentines day, I have now been able to use my birthday present properly. You see, for my birthday my beloved other half had got me a piano fund. It was made up of everything she could put aside at various times in terms of spare cash-in-your-pocket, and came out to a frankly amazing amount. So, after a lot of searching and some decisions over the path I wanted to take with it...

I have a piano.

Its a pretty, dark wood upright piano; simple, straightforward and effective. It's a straight strung Paul Gerard model that works great. I was able to get it from a music teacher who was moving house and needed the space to allow for a rapidly expanding family amongst other things.

After an amazingly straightforward move, thanks to a local (awesome) company and the help of a friend, it's here and sat in my dining room. It's not tuned yet, so her voice is a little off from what she'll be, but she has such potential, and more than anything will allow me to see what potential I have.

It's this variation upon which I will find and play my theme.

Fun for every day.

Go on. One more food post before moving to something else for the next one, but this one has actually been requested.

So I have been trying to do batch meals in an attempt to save money, lose weight and oddly experiment more. So my experiment for sunday was a Moroccan roast chicken.

This is a bit of a misnomer, as the Moroccans themselves would be far more likely to grill the chicken than to roast, but I hoped that the introduction of a few new flavours would do something impressive to an old recipe.

So. A chicken. Take it whole (albeit without the internals), with the skin on preferably. In a blender, mix four cloves of garlic, about a tablespoon of coriander leaves (finely chopped) and some saffron (for the saffron, it should be about half a teaspoon of saffron that has been soaked in 2 tablespoons of hot water first). Once it is a coarse paste, simply put, take this mixture and rub it into the chicken under the skin. Drop some inside the chicken, rub it, caress it, whatever, but this mix should go on the meat.

Next take a mixture of 1 tablespoon paprika, half a teaspoon of cumin, a pinch of cayenne, half a teaspoon of black pepper and a pinch of ground ginger. Mix those spices together (by hand is fine) and then coat everything. The meat, the skin (especially the skin), the cat, everything (except your eyes, possibly).

Now whack it in the oven as normal to cook. You should really cover it at first, but (and I didn't get this bit quite right this time, which is why I'm keen you should get it right) make sure you take off the foil/covering for long enough that you can get the skin a little crispy.

Serve with what you feel like, we actually had the usual potatoes, parsnips, peas, carrots. But the extra flavours in the chicken make it seriously tasty.

But the main part about this is what to do for the rest of the time. Now there were only two of us eating the evening meal, but since then I've managed to get a good few meals out of the old bird. All with that lovely Moroccan flavour. First, and most bleeding obvious, chicken mayo sandwiches. Add the chicken, add some mayo, always add some black pepper, whack on some salad and you're done. Simple, but the Moroccan flavours mix with the mayo to create something a little more special.

The other obvious one is leftovers. Chicken is awesome, and this stuff is delicious on its own, even reheated. So mine was with some sautéed new potatoes (just to give them some nice crunch) and plentiful veg.

The last and distinctly more unusual (gifted to me largely by my beloved, in that she reminded me what day it was and insisted on having pancakes) was to use them in pancakes. Now what I actually did was create a savoury pancake on my raclette with the chicken, chili, cheese and ham. What I would have done (had I not run out of serviceable ingredient) would have been to have chorizo in there instead.

So. As batch meals go, that's a pretty good one. And if you're prepared to do so, you can go further into the boiling and soup making territory, but for me that will do for this week.

Oh, and obligatory pancake photo.

Variations on a theme, and making a variation upon which to play your theme

This isn't just a food blog. Though at times that might seem like my priority, its just a side effect of the fact that I cook every day, and try to make even the humdrum batch meals interesting.

So yesterday, in pursuit of a dish that could last a few days (which gives me measured protions that I can make up quickly each night after the gym) I tried something new as a variation on an old theme. Roast Chicken. Moroccan Roast Chicken, to be exact and therein lies the twist.

Having found myself the requisite bird, I added to it a blend of moroccan style spices and herbs to be able to up the flavour. Garlic, coriander, pepper, saffron, cumin, salt, paprika and cayenne. The result was pretty pleasing in the end, especially since it was an invention. I'll now use the chicken over the next few days in whatever way my tiny brain can concoct, and I'll post the results later in the week, but here's a taster:

The other part of my week, and the second part of my drive in this post is the hunt for a piano. I have finally decided firmly that the piano fund gifted to me by my beloved will go to getting me a true, functional acoustic upright piano. It may not be the best in the world, but then neither am I. I just have the utmost hankering to be able to head home of an evening and play at whim, to be able to serenade the universe as I see fit. Whether it likes it or not.

I know full well that I have missed one iron clad bargain, but that and having seen a couple of other pianos has convinced me that the piano for me is out there, waiting for me to snaffle it. And however long it takes, that is a very, very good feeling.

My kind of cooking

I've always liked to cook.

Like many people though, I only really started doing it when I went to university. My meals there were simple and straightforward, but generally good and well above the basic beans on toast standard of so many students.

When I really started doing it properly was about 3 years ago. Living on my own for the first time (rather than with a partner or flatmate), I started to go through some more complicated dishes and elaborate on my skills a bit more. But when I came back down to my hometown to live in September 2011 was when it really all kicked off a lot.

Through the support of my loved ones (especially my other half and family) I received some excellent cooking equipment, some literature and the chance to really experiment properly with my cooking. Since then I've tried cooking dishes from countless origins and using as many different ingredients as possible.

Since then I have managed to produce some pretty good meals, some that actually look worthy of the recipes (Click on pics to zoom):

My inspirations in cooking have been numerous, but my main like is for people like Nigel Slater. He cooks with a completely unpretentious style. He doesn't claim to be a chef, just a man who likes to cooks good, simple, satisfying food and happens to like writing about it.

That, fundamentally, is how I exist within cooking. I don't consider myself anything other than a man who likes to cook, and sometimes likes to share it with others. My taste in food generally stays with relatively simple (albeit often esoteric) food that is satisfying and enjoyable. I don't go in for anything pretentious, I just like to be able to create something that I and others will enjoy.

So, with that in mind, and given that I was on my own for dinner tonight, I felt like sharing one of my favourite simple, satisfying, comforting foods.

Ravioli per l'anima
(Ravioli for the Soul)

So, for this recipe, I use some filled ravioli (beef and chianti in this case), and cook it in a tomato, chorizo and sausage ragu.

So, to start, take your sausages of choice (I actually used Cumberland here rather than Italian because I like the peppery flavour) and cut them into pieces so that they are approximately cubed as so:

Then slice some thin chorizo and have it ready to go. Whilst you're preparing, also get a pan of water on the go for the pasta, and you can have a pan ready for the sauce if you like. You can actually do the sausage and chorizo in the same pan that you'll eventually do the sauce in, but I happened to have my trusty skillet ready this time.

Cook the sausages so that they are very nearly done, preferably making them a little crispy on the skins. Once you've got to this stage, whack the chorizo into the same pan to cook off. You only need to cook the chorizo so that the oils start to come out, which will probably only be a minute or so at a decent heat. Once these are done, place them in the saucepan for your sauce.

I always base my tomato sauces on passata, simply because I do not like the texture of real tomatoes very much, but you can use chopped tomatoes if you prefer. Add the passata into the saucepan with the sausage and chorizo (important to do this from the beginning as it adds the flavour of the meat properly) and begin to simmer the sauce. Add plenty of black pepper and oregano, and simmer the sauce until it begins to thicken.

Whilst this is going on, boil your water and put in your ravioli. Fresh pasta, even filled, will only take three minutes or so to cook in boiling water, so don't overdo it too much. The best way to tell is always to taste the pasta.

Once the ravioli is done, drain it (doesn't need to be completely drained) and then add it in to the sauce. Stir thoroughly to make sure everything is combined and hot, and then serve into your choice of dish. Sprinkle some cheese atop the dish and there you go.

It isn't a sophisticated dish. It can look a bit of a mess and it is hardly health food. But I'll tell you this; it's comforting, it's simple and more than anything...

It is delicious.

That's my kind of cooking.

Balance through distraction and experimentation

Another day where, due to the horrors of politics, I have little to do and little sign of change in the three weeks left in my current post. (It could be worse, by rights it should have been 3 months) Thoughts of the new job fountain up occasionally only to be obscured by what seems like an intolerable and ever extending wait for March to arrive.

Still, I've been able to find some balance, at least for today, by indulging in a few background tasks to make things decidedly more interesting.

Firstly, I actually may have found a piano. I've been looking for a week or two now, but started with little clue of what I actually wanted in the scheme of things, so I'm half playing catch up. Indeed, I seem to have missed one particular opportunity that would have been utterly perfect for me. But c'est la vie. Last night though I went and saw a piano that, whilst not perfect and in need of a tune, had a voice and a form that I very much liked. I'm going to have to ponder hard on this one before I decide whether its right, but at present I'm rather liking the idea, and I would love to be able to put my piano fund to good and proper use, given the loving way it was bestowed. So stay tuned on that one, I may well put up some pics soon.

The second element today is that in an effort to curb my own waste and waistline, I'm planning out some meals for the next little while, which will allow me to indulge in some brand new (and healthy) recipes. Cooking is something I just can't get enough of, and half the fun is in the planning and anticipation.

So there we are, an otherwise shoddy day made better by piano, the anticipation of good food, and the ability to prattle on about it all on a blog. You can expect some pics, some recipes and a much happier man now that the weekend is here.

Days where it doesn't just come in threes...

Well, they do say that bad news / trouble comes in sets of threes. My family appears to be on number four at the moment, so here I am drawn to looking through some of my favourite pics for nostalgia and for cheer. So here's one.

Being 'de-mob happy'.

Talking to some of the people here yesterday about my impending change in work, I had someone make the observation that I seemd 'de-mob happy'.

Now this phrase is nothing insulting or actually mob related, its just a phrase meant to imply that you have a relxed attitude knowing that you will soon be departing this particular bastion of industry.

But there's very little about this active period of demob that makes me in any way happy. Obviously there is the anticipation of the new job (which will be AWESOME), because this particular demob also comes in the wake of a project 'deferral' that arrived in the height of our activities, I'm left distinctly demotivated rather than anything else.

One of the endemic problems in this industry is its capacity to allow politics to curtail peoples work without warning, without anything other than an abrupt removal of everything you've tried to achieve.

So no, I'm not demob happy. I'd far rather have gone out of this place having achieved pur goals and made something of it all, rather than spending the next few weeks caretaking paperwork. As it gets closer, I probably will get to demob happy as the implications of the new job sink in, but as of right now, there are a number of people here very demob unhappy

Because I can, and to see how well it works on here, here's one of my favourite skyscape shots. Of which I have a lot...

Well, here I am.

Well, here I am.

This isn't the first time I've tried to run a blog. Most of the time I've started and simply ended up realising I have very little to say that doesn't sound ridiculously bombastic or self important.

This time, well, it's a little different. I just turned 30, and whilst it's a cliché to say so, its the first age at wish I really feel like I'm properly, well... Me. And the first age where I feel grown up enough to simply talk about the things I want to talk about whilst not worrying about what others think of it or sounding too much like an ass.

So, yes. I will be talking a lot on here.

About my cooking, which draws me to try everything I possibly can from all over the world. Moroccan, Japanese, Thai, American, Mexican, British, Italian, French; anything that takes my fancy and piques my curiosity.

About my travels within the world of piano. And yes, that one will come as a surprise to any of those who know me and read this since no-one knows that I can actually play (other than my family).

About my geographical travels, about my final escape from an industry I cannot abide by anymore, about my cats, about my home, about the random thoughts that come from my former physicist mind, about the martial arts I love and miss.

About my time with my beloved other half and family. About my friends, near and far.

About anything I damn well please.

But I'm a realist. I am not special. I am just a man who feels the need to document what looks to be his best decade yet, to share some thoughts, spin a few yarns and generally be able to cast out a few thoughts and feelings about life to the amorphous outside electronic world.

If you like them, stick around and chat. Otherwise, much love and good luck to you.

But here I am.