Bloodline Blues: Sunday, April 26th!

Language is the armoury of the human mind; and at once contains the trophies of its past, and the weapons of its future conquests. -Samuel Taylor Coleridge, poet, critic, and philosopher (1772-1834)

David Kessler Awakening to a gentle rain amidst the green rolling hills of the Dordogne, sipping good coffee after a long evening watching a film and enjoying dinner with our friend Serge and a dozen friends 'til long past midnight. After a week in the crowded 11th arondissement in busy Paris I find my soul stretching out like an awakening cat in the silence. I wish only that our bags we not quite so heavy. J'ai mal aux bras ce matin! The wines of Bergerac are excellent! But I do miss baseball....

Patrick James Dunn To take your mind off your lack of Joltin' Joe pick up Anthony Doerr's All the Light We Cannot See, (I meant to mention it to you in an earlier message but the wonderful wines from Miinervois we've enjoyed of late must have clouded my already clouded mind!), the incredible story of a blind French teenager and a young German soldier, at the very end of WW II. The central setting is the walled port city of St-Malo, just 5 hours to the north of you! 

[Marvin Angelo Mercado New hobby Bella M. Mercado Wow! What a great job you did, looks so so much better now, thank you.Patrick James Dunn Very attractive but I rather expected the plantings to be in the form of the Seahawks logo!]
 

David KesslerThis innovative archeological museum offers a history of a gorgeous lavish villa in this ancient city and documents how thoughtful Roman rule in Gaul permitted the creation of a new Gallo-Roman culture. Perigueux is a beautiful city with narrow winding cobbled streets and alleys, a sprawling Byzantine-style cathedral and comfortable squares filled with irresistible brasseries and shops; we were luck it was Sunday and so many of these shops were closed. Got home just in time for the skies to open and the rain to pour down upon the tiled roofs and spreading forests visible from the comfy kitchen table I'm writing to you from. No pool in a month-do I still remember how to swim???

Day did not look overly promising as there was a fair bit of cloud cover and the threat of rain later in the afternoon. This being the case I decided to head out to try and beat the showers forecast-ed to start around 4:00 pm. Once I was on the road, around 11:30 am, after cleaning and oiling my chain, as well as pumping up my tires, I made for Olympic Village, supposing that if the skies did open I wouldn't be too, too far from home to run for cover. In, fact, didn't need to worry at all as the rain held off and I was able to return to the Concord Pacific lot a number of times, in between SW/Seawall/Burrard Bridge loops to log 50 km before I even hit Kits Point. There I added more distance so that at the bottom of the UBC Foreshore Hill I had 71 km on the odometre. Form there it was a relative piece of cake to dipsy-doodle my way to 101 km before I took Chancellor for home. 

Decided to better yesterday's distance so once I reached Blanca I turned towards Little Australia and did about 7 loops there so that when I waved goodbye to the Ozzies I had 101 km. Once back at Kits Point I only needed one loop and a few minor dipsy-doodle adjustments and my first GranFondo distance, (Whistler not Penticton), of 2015 was in the bag! If it had not been for the omnidirectional head, (Only about 15 kph, ESE, but it was always in my face!), wind I'm sure I could have even pushed my AVG over 22 kph but that challenge is for another day, another ride! Stats for ride:

https://connect.garmin.com/modern/activity/758115448#.VT2RbviIdDg.email

Hello Critics All! One incorrect bid, one wrong quotation and this wolf pack goes straight for the jugular! In future I will definitely Skype Byron before bidding and submit all further correspondence the Ministry for Silly Messages, to be proof-read and have the facts checked, before posting. Can see that I really need my super-hero kit as well, a tough outer Kevlar skin, the better to protect my fragile ego!

On another matter, I happened to spy Winston cycling along the Seawall, around 11:30 am this morning, sans helmet, I might add! I suspect he was en route to GIB to buy Monday's grog, so intent was the look of purpose etched on his face! Cheers, Admonished but Unrepentant Patrizzio! 

I am surprized that you didn't slip your broadsword into the spokes of his wheel to tip him into the drink. If only you had had on your super hero kit 2 over 1
Byron Dear bridgers Wherever it can be said to have originated, the proverb struck a chord in the English-speaking world. More recently, it has been called into use in three screen classics:

Kind Hearts and Coronets, 1949: "Revenge is a dish which people of taste prefer to eat cold." The Godfather, 1969: Don Corleone nodded. "Revenge is a dish that tastes best when it is cold," he said. Star Trek II, The Wrath of Kahn, 1982: Kirk, old friend, do you know the Klingon proverb, "Revenge is a dish best served cold"? As I said, the proverb gets about - Paris, Ealing, New York and finally, the Klingon Empire. 
 

And thus finally back to Paris to the true originator - Lord Byron as rightfully pointed out by squire Patrizzio 3NT Byron A Byronic Recitation of "The Rime of the Ancyent Marinere" could help - as Clive's Recitation of "Molly's Soliloquy" & Anne's "The Lake Isle of Inishfree"

Hello Paris, et al! Wonderful to learn that the French wines and cheeses have not changed the Byron we all know and love! You are particularly missed by those left who quickly become the new scapegoats of The Dead Poets Society. I didn't realize, when asked by the Nefarious Naramatian to join what I beleived was a friendly, informal bridge group, that its politics were so Machiavellian, the bloodletting so persistent. You truly need to be a superhero to bid but one measly Club, let alone respond to the plethora of convoluted conventions that are tossed, cavalierly, back and forth, between plenteous sips of intoxicating liquor. 

Speaking of which, Byronator, there would have been no point in tipping Jolly Winston into the drink as there was probably a skinful of same sloshing around inside him as, at the time, 11:30 am, PST, it was after 5:00 pm somewhere, (France, perchance), when he barreled past me on the Seawall, knees pumping, steely eyes fixed straight ahead, a huge Cuban cigar clamped between clenched teeth! Onward! Fight!! Let the Game Begin!!! Cheers, Lesser Under-Squire, Besotted Scullion, Varlet, and Ever Churlish Churl Patrizzio!