Frágil! Manejar con cuidado. Gracias!

A 24 hour transit day from sunny Wesham to er, sunny Costa Mesa. Against all the odds there were no cock-ups: B.A. were cool about the bike, but more importantly so were the baggage handlers as it seemed to be fairly unscathed. I say 'seemed' as I haven't actually unpacked it fully yet, ahem.

At T5 it was safe to say that Olympic fever hadn't quite taken hold...yet.

...and it was heartening to see some sort of public profile for Macmillan, not to mention Johnny Foreigner lobbing in his coins.

And one for the road. Honest.

The Obama-mobile aka Airforce One was parked at LAX when I arrived: he was in town trying to raise some shekels for his re-election coffers. Wonder if he gets the same old line from Clooney as I get from T.T.P., "It's on my to-do list mate...remind me later."? Only joking Timothy...I know you'll cough eventually.

Pick up the hire motor no problem and have Easter-mental traffic all the 40-odd miles to Costa Mesa. Motel is fine and I'm pleased to see that the America By Bike company really does exist!

Head out for a steak and some top local brews- it's when you see this you remember that you're in that America alright...

Finally found these tasteful items waiting for me..."Well alriiiight...how you doin' L.A.? Keef, keep pedallin'! Well awriight!"

Blessed are the baggage-handlers!

More nonsense to come. Bet on it.

Where your money is going.

A couple of days ago I met up with Fundraising Manager Linzi Young at Trinity Hospice, having a not-many cheesey photo-op for the local paper in the hope of
a) assuaging my rampant ego, and
b) perhaps getting a donation or two from the readership.

It was my first time back there since visiting Linda last July: as a wise man said to me the other day, have a look around places like that and then tell me how big your problems are.
By the way, that t-shirt was Denis Roussos size *and* it was blowing a gale from behind, ahem...

Well if The Doc says it's ok...

I've had a pain in my right knee since the end of January. At first I did the usual thing i.e. ignored it, but eventually I went to see my G.P., who guessed it was an inflamed bursa. Why the sodding thing had to become inflamed and seek attention no-one knows.

Anyway, he prescribed Diclofenac anti-inflammatory pills which didn't help much so he sent me to see a knee consultant down in Manchester, Mr. Sampath. A funny bloke, as he should be given that his knees are in great nick.
He also reckoned on an angry bursa but wanted me to have a M.R.I. scan just to make sure that no ligaments or cartilage were playing up. To cut a long story to exactly the same length, I got the result of the scan and here it is...

The Man from Oaklands he say...
"M.T.F.U.!"

It's itinerary time...

Just received the daily mileages...all seems a little bit more real now. And as bad as I thought, hah-hah!