The Sport of Kings

To clear up some confusion from my last post, the point of the elf joke is that it isn't supposed to make sense. I actually thought it was quite funny, but I accept I'm in the minority.

So far as I can tell, an increasingly largish number of people are starting to read my blog. Good for you. I would mention who they are, but most of them don't have nicknames yet. 

On the subject of nicknames, Ames and Midgie asked me specifically to change their names to (respectively) Sharona and Brandine. I really don't want to have to go back and change their names in every single one of the posts I've done so far. Therefore, here is:

The Leslie M. Harper Quick & Easy Guide To Name Changes

(current as of October 2010)

Ames = Sharona

Midgie = Brandine

Or, alternatively:

Midgie = Brandine

Ames = Sharona

That should clear it up for everyone. If you still have trouble remembering these name changes, just sit back and pretend none of it ever happened. This works extremely well for me in Physics. That is to say, I don't do very well in the subject. But it does mean my brain isn't full of useless Physics knowledge. It's obvious I'm the winner in this situation.

As I believe all of you are aware (I doubt anyone not from my school would find this remotely interesting, or in any way related to real life) it is currently fourth term. We've been working fairly solidly all year. The exams are coming up in a couple of weeks. And do we get a break now?

Frankly, no.

That's not entirely fair, actually. There are just one or two things that ruin it for the rest. Maths, for example. To celebrate the spring weather and rapid approach of the end of the year, we're learning about polynomials. Wonderful. I can't tell you what they are because I've forgotten. However, hard as they are, the really nasty thing about them is that to divide them (as our Maths teacher told us cheerfully), you have to know long division.

In primary school, I'm certain I learnt how to do long division. I can readily imagine myself sitting down and doing . . . the things you do in long division. I just have no memory of it. Which is not the best situation to be in when studying polynomials.

Luckily for me (well, kind of luckily) my Maths teacher was prepared for this, and spent a whole lesson teaching everyone the methods you need to know to do things involving polynomials (I'm a little hazy on the specifics). I was relieved to realise I wasn't the only one in the class who couldn't do it. We courageously struggled on until the end of the lesson - at which point somebody asked Mr G what we'd be doing next lesson. 'We'll be learning how to divide polynomials without having to do all of this,' he said, to a complete silence in the room. Still, I can now divide at length, which is something.

I believe I've written about my PE lessons in this blog before, most specifically in relation to lacrosse and cycling. I've ranted on at some length as to my inability to pick up a lacrosse ball, the way I once got the handlebars on my bike the wrong way around and nearly fell over (which Vyvyan still hasn't forgotten), and the time I hit myself in the shins with my own crosse (I don't think I've written about that yet, but it was fairly painful and not a little embarrassing. By which I mean quite a lot embarrassing). 

In fact, my PE class went for a bike ride today. I was hampered only by the fact that I'd forgotten to bring my PE gear in with me. I was forced to borrow Peanut's. Thank you, incidentally, Peanut, you basically saved my life (or saved me from a detention, anyway, which isn't exactly the same thing), and I hate to criticise. After all, the bike ride (given my level of ability) was never going to be exactly magical. However, if anything is worse than a regular bicycle ride, then it's when you go on a bike ride wearing shoes several times too small.

The ride itself was fairly interesting. I was somewhere near the back of the class, but there were still people behind me: Sharona (AMES), Brandine (MIDGIE), Indie and Cat. I was unlikely to forget that they were behind me, given that they screamed whenever we went up a hill. Or down a hill. Or on a flat bit of road.

Anyway, this is basically what happened on our ride:

1. PE class collect bike helmets. I get my fingers stuck in the buckle while trying to adjust the strap. A fine beginning.

2. PE class head up hill to bike shed. I begin to experience first feelings of resentment for Peanut's shoes.

3. Bikes are chosen. Mine is too big. Attempt to remedy this by lowering the seat.

4. Get fingers stuck in seat-lowering device. Enlist Beartrap's help. Manage to get out unscathed.

5. Start ride.

6. Sharona, Cat and Brandine decide they need a distress signal after Cat is nearly run over by a car.

7. They decide ideal distress signal is making quacking noises very loudly as opposed to something like, say, shouting for help.

8. Passers-by get confused as groups of quacking students pass them. Decide something needs to be done to raise the reputation of the school. Ames suggests we should greet pedestrians in a friendly manner (bear in mind that throughout this we were riding the bikes, so when it says 'suggests' it really means 'yells').

8. Vyvyan decides an ordinary 'Hello' is too boring and goes for 'Bonjour' instead. I go for a more conventional 'Guten tag'. Somebody behinds me goes for 'Top of the morning'. Everybody we pass is greeted in a number of culturally interesting ways. Not sure if this raised the reputation of the school at all, but it was fun.

9. Chain falls off the gear wheel on my bike. Klaus (previously unmentioned) suggests extra assistance is needed. Beartrap puts it back on again.

10. My bike now makes interesting clicking noises whenever it's in a certain gear. Decide to ignore it.

11. Stop at playground. Get off bike, nearly fall over. Blame Peanut's shoes, which are by this point quite uncomfortable. PE class enjoy playground in a manner unfit for people of our age.

12. Sharona and Indie look for ducks.

13. Sharona and Indie find some ducks.

14. Sharona and Indie are chased by ducks.

15. PE teacher recommends Sharona and Indie stay away from ducks.

16. Start ride back home again.

17. Pedals stop turning on my bike. Discover it is because chain is wedged awkwardly. Beartrap unwedges it.

18. Chain slips off gear wheel and becomes wedged simultaneously. Give up on bike. Beartrap fixes it. Suggest that Beartrap has his own show, similar to 'Jim'll Fix It' but with bikes. Beartrap declines.

19. Make it back to school. By this point, am really beginning to hate Peanut's shoes.

20. Try to ride up hill to bike shed. Give up. Get off bike and walk up hill to bike shed.

21. Leave bike, leave helmet, go back to change rooms and remove Peanut's shoes.

22. Vow never to repeat experience. Until next PE lesson, anyway.

There you have it. An account of my cycling experience. Not quite as bad as the time I mixed up the gear change and the handbrake and went through a puddle at a speed more commonly seen in F1 racing cars, but still pretty bad. I'd like to think it wasn't my fault but the bikes that the chain kept slipping off, but I suppose we'll never know. Actually, if anyone in my year rides bikes in PE, and gets bike #25, can they fill me in about it? If the same thing happens to them I'll be slightly reassured about my riding ability.

All of the above makes a point. A long point, admittedly, but a good one, I feel. The point being that cycling is NOT my sport. Neither is lacrosse. Both of these things have been established.

I hadn't, however, bargained on there being something worse than both of those sports. It's not worse than both of them put together. In fact, this new sport is EXACTLY as bad as cycling and lacrosse put together. 

This is because it is, in fact, cycling and lacrosse put together. I call it either 'cyclacrosse' or 'hell'. 'Hell' is shorter, so that's the one I normally go with. It's also amazingly accurate.

I'm not sure what was going through my teacher's head when she thought this would be a good idea. I can ride a bike with both hands. I can't do it with one. I especially can't do it when I'm holding a lacrosse stick in my left hand and steering madly with my right whilst careening madly in ever-decreasing circles around the oval. Oh, yes, and I'm supposed to care about the ball in the middle of that too.

I think it would be fair to call cyclacrosse the sport of kings. After all, a good portion of kings were bastards, weren't they? Look at Henry the Eighth. Louis the Fifteenth. William the Conqueror's other title was, actually, 'William the Bastard', although it should be mentioned that only people who didn't like him called him that.

I can imagine one of those kings sitting down and thinking 'A combination of cycling and lacrosse, what a good idea. I'll get rid of the iron maiden and/or guillotine and let my enemies play cyclacrosse instead.'

Except they didn't have bikes back then, and I'm not sure about lacrosse. I suppose the closest they would have come would have been to ride around on horses with sticks.

Which, come to think of it, is exactly what jousting is. But I should mention here - and I'm going to have to be firm around this - that while I can put up with bikes, crosses, and the inevitable amounts of pain that come when the two are combined, if my teacher ever comes in and suggest that we joust on the oval, I'm going to revolt.