Saturday, September 10, 2011

RIP ITER Posting

Seems my new-found work Zen was exceptionally short lived.  It's unclear as yet what has happened but I am no longer required in the South of France for 3 months.

Whilst this may, initially seem like a bit of a blow, I am infact completely non-plussed about the whole affair.  Of course I am worried that with such a short turn around, I have somehow pissed someone off.  The project manager seems hurt - he was hoping to make the expenses I have spent over the last few days back based on the imense ammount of money they were charging for me, so it's not him I've enraged.  The local man seems to just refer me back to my Rotherham boss and he is not taking my calls or answering my emails.  So I wait to find out what the score is when he returns to the office.  I know he was expecting much more work to come out of France and back to Rotherham but as resources in France have mounted up, this isn't the case so perhaps he just wants one of his peeps back.

Has my new resistance to putting myself out, refusing to travel half way across Europe when tired, upset someone?  Maybe.  I don't really mind.  I'm sorry this whole affair has overlapped an important project.  I'm glad I'm not there, all tired.  Quite frankly, I'm glad the panic of the century is no longer my project.

This changeover has made me realise that my own personal USP (ultimate selling point) has to change.  I no longer want to be the one to deliver the panic du jour.  I will be the organised one who does everything to time and makes sure it runs smoothly.  Not the catch-up queen.

I spent Thursday evening unpacking my bike from it's box and reassembling it.  The non-move did at least give me the opportunity to clean my bike properly.

On Friday morning I got up at 6:30 especially to put the finishing touches to it (put the rack on) and rode to work.  It was dead on 9am when I arrived, having hunted down various keys and things that I'd put away for another day.  My legs were still a little bit fucked but the flat start to the ride helped me feel happier and the hills at the end of the ride gave me a proper stretch out despite the fact that I was riding in bottom gear on the little ring.

At 3pm, TSK phoned to say his overdue balloon ride was off and so he came to pick me up from work to ride out to a country pub.  We had a few debates on the way as to which way to go.  Eventually headed for Firbeck which is one of my favourite flatlands rural villages.  We didn't think there was a pub there but decided to make it up as we went along.

Just as we rode through Firbeck, TSK commented, "There should be a pub here" and like an outspoken wish, the Black Lion appeared on a sweeping bend.  Perfect cyclists pub.  Plenty of spaces for bikes, really nice food.

A big portion of pork belly should help with the muscle restoration.

Saturday morning, a recovery run to the Royal Mail to pick up spiky balls to masage my scabby muscles with.

The perfect start to the restorative process that is a change in jobs.

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