Booooorn To Be Wiiiiiiilllld

It's BACK, baby!

Blood was all of a whopping 7.0 this morning - note to self and other Disappearing fat fucks - don't have cereal and buttered toast for dinner, then go shortly to bed. The bicycle repair men were scheduled to be here by 'late morning', so when they rang at 10.30 and said "Reparing a recumbent bike?" I said "Oh yes." There was a sigh on the line. "Well can you let us in then please?" said Repair Man #1. I ran to the door, opened up, offered them tea, coffee, the heart of my first-born if they'd fix my bike. They got straight down to business, explaining their weird introduction. Apparently, they'd just come from delivering a bike  to a woman at the top floor of a Canary Wharf appartment block, who hadn't let them use the lift, and had been 'too busy' to come down. They'd left it with the porter at the door, and being lads from up north, and in at least one case, ex-army, they'd felt rather at a loss at such pomposity, so when they were standing outside our door confronted with three doorbells, they'd thought "oh sod it," and just called me.  They took the side off the bike, and I saw why it clunked and wheezed and basically fell over every time I tried to change resistance. They changed, replaced, greased, loosened, replaced the side and tested it. Not only does the bike now sweetly do what is asked of it, there's no clunking, no whining, no grinding, no nothing. As an extra added bonus, the seat changing handle, which, according to Repair Man #1 had been incorrectly fitted orignally by "a bunch of numpties", was re-fitted properly, so now the seat whizzes along like a whizzy thing covered in extra whizzy stickers from Whizzer magazine...

When the repair men left I saw them out, was closing the door, and then opened it again when I heard the swearing.
Appearently, the half an hour they'd been tinkering with my bike had been enough to allow a traffic warden to wander along and slap them with a ticket. Apparently, their company don't pay those for them, they have to pay their own. And, like I said, these are northen guys, so being slapped with a stonking great £130 fine, as Repair Man #1 put it, was "today's fucking wages gone".
Given they weren't having a good day by the time they got to me, I can only imagine what they were like to their next call, bless 'em. Hell, maybe they thought "fuck it," and sodded off back up the M6...

Now, other than to test it out, I haven't actually gotten ON the bike yet - that's coming up as soon as I stop talking to you. And the day has been relatively stodgy - cereal breakfast (cos God forbid I should learn the lesson of last night), and a pepperoni pizza - thin and crispy, but still...

So check me out - fat man on a thoroughly repaired bike, comin' through...
Get your motor ruuuunnnin'...