I was initially going to nab this piddly image but thought the picture I chose seemed more appropriate to here.P is for Panic: I had a cyclist's nightmare the other morning. I was on the last leg of my getting ready to head out for a cycle routine; I'd reached the have a small cup of coffee stage. On went our Dolce Gusto coffee machine (if you click on the link, I hope you thoroughly enjoy their music), in went the Cafe Lungo (whatever that is) pod, over went the actually put coffee in a cup lever and 'Pffft!', out came a few drips before the machine went kaput.
'Eek!', 'Jakers!', 'Cripes!', 'Egads!' and other such words people don't actually say or think unless they're characters in a cartoon. I feared my, seemingly correct, actions had destroyed our beloved so simple even an idiot like me can use it coffee maker.
You may not be one who finds cycling and coffee go together as an almost inseparable pair but I am and I'm definitely not alone. The thought of breaking up that relationship was not one I relished. Plus, I didn't want to have to pay to get the coffee machine fixed or replaced. Tears were considered but didn't appear.
Needless to say, my panic and worries were for nothing. It was a wonky coffee pod. The machine was absolutely fine, coffee was consumed and a slow tootling cycled ensued. The world was a wonderful place.
P is for Peculiar: From time to time I'll perform an action and think afterwards 'Why on Earth did I do that?'. That time to time happened for me again on Friday.
I'd been cycling a (by my standards) hilly route along the Antrim coast and was thoroughly knackered while making my (slow) crawl up the coast. Passing through (makes me sound like a poop) Carnlough, some wag (ie. a cocky spide) was weaving all over the road on his oncoming bicycle. As he neared me he said, something along the lines of, 'What about a race mate?' while laughing. Usually I go into immediate self-depreciation mode and say the likes of 'Ach no. You'd only beat me too easily' but the fatigue of the day must have addled my mind.
Rather than humouring him, I waited until he was directly opposite me, looked him dead in eyes, grinned manically and flipped him the bird. Weird as it sounds, I seemed to think this was all good natured japing around at the time. I didn't mean it to be particularly offensive. Cocky spide, however, seemed less than enamoured. Oops! Unlikely as it is, if Cocky Spide is reading this, please accept my apologies (particularly for calling you a cocky spide).
P is for Pheasants: Loads of the buggers. It seems everywhere I cycle, asides from urinating (see previous P), I have to avoid pheasants.
Pheasants don't appear to be terribly smart, even as birds go. Rather than having the common sense to run or fly away from the oncoming bicycle, they have a tendency to run a few feet in one direction, turn around to run in another random manner and repeat this until they're either safe or involved in a crash. They're lovely birds but rather nonsensical. At least, in their defence, they're pheasants and not peasants. I'd hate to sully myself writing about the lower classes.
P is for Purchasing: I've had an almost obsession with buying (cheap) cycling stuff recently. Mainly it has comprised of jerseys and the odd bit of other clothing. It makes me wonder why I buy it all.
It's not that I have a huge vault filled with cycle gear but I certainly have enough to be getting on with. I could probably wear the stuff I have for the next five or ten years and not have to purchase another item of cycle clothing yet purchase I do. My (very basic) theory on this is of the old donkey and carrot scenario; If I buy cycling garments, I'll want to try them out. To try them out I have to go for a cycle. Therefore buying cycle clothing pushes me to go out and cycle more.
Of course it could just be that I like getting stuff.
P is for Pique: Pique's probably too strong a word but it starts with a P so it'll do. I'm sorry to say deflate doesn't start with a P so it won't do. Maybe I should have tried to shoehorn in puncture in an emotional sense? With the bicycle reference, that might have seemed almost clever. What a shame I'm not.
Anyway, my slightly peeved (maybe I should have used P is for Peeve) grump comes from an order I made with Bike Dock. I had ordered my lovely lady three pairs of their Altura Night Vision tights because they were listed for a mere £19-99 GBP each. It seemed like a great price. In addition to the tights, I ordered some other bits and pieces. I think the total order came to a little over £130 GBP.
This morning I received an e-mail apologising and telling me they had a software problem and the tights were incorrectly priced on their website. Apparently the actual price is £34-99 GBP. As the error had been on their part, they said they'd give me another ten percent off the £34-99 GBP.
I appreciate it was an error and am grateful for their apology but, more often than not, companies tend to honour the incorrect price. That being the case, I decided to cancel the order in its entirety. It's the first time I've tried to order anything from Bike Dock and it doesn't entice me to do so again. I'd imagine they're not obliged to sell items at the listed price if there is a mistake but it annoys me they didn't offer to do so. As I wrote earlier, in my experience, normally shops do sell items for the listed price in this scenario. It was, after all, their mistake.
Rather than put me off shopping there, they could have honoured the price and I would have thought 'That's good of them. I'll shop there again' instead of my current 'That's not as good as other shops. I'll not hurry back there to buy anything'. It seems silly on their part. They might have had to take a slight hit on tights but would have earned a new customer (potentially both online and physically in the shop) and good words from me to other prospective customers. Besides, I'd think the profits from the other items I was going to buy likely more than offset any losses incurred from the tights.
As I say, they didn't do anything particularly bad, they just didn't do anything that good. Other shops have shown considerably superior customer service and will get my business instead. They've left a bit of a bad taste. Maybe they'll write back to my cancel the order e-mail and redeem themselves. That remains to be seen. I'll be surprised if they do.
I'd been cycling a (by my standards) hilly route along the Antrim coast and was thoroughly knackered while making my (slow) crawl up the coast. Passing through (makes me sound like a poop) Carnlough, some wag (ie. a cocky spide) was weaving all over the road on his oncoming bicycle. As he neared me he said, something along the lines of, 'What about a race mate?' while laughing. Usually I go into immediate self-depreciation mode and say the likes of 'Ach no. You'd only beat me too easily' but the fatigue of the day must have addled my mind.
Rather than humouring him, I waited until he was directly opposite me, looked him dead in eyes, grinned manically and flipped him the bird. Weird as it sounds, I seemed to think this was all good natured japing around at the time. I didn't mean it to be particularly offensive. Cocky spide, however, seemed less than enamoured. Oops! Unlikely as it is, if Cocky Spide is reading this, please accept my apologies (particularly for calling you a cocky spide).
P is for Pheasants: Loads of the buggers. It seems everywhere I cycle, asides from urinating (see previous P), I have to avoid pheasants.
Pheasants don't appear to be terribly smart, even as birds go. Rather than having the common sense to run or fly away from the oncoming bicycle, they have a tendency to run a few feet in one direction, turn around to run in another random manner and repeat this until they're either safe or involved in a crash. They're lovely birds but rather nonsensical. At least, in their defence, they're pheasants and not peasants. I'd hate to sully myself writing about the lower classes.
P is for Purchasing: I've had an almost obsession with buying (cheap) cycling stuff recently. Mainly it has comprised of jerseys and the odd bit of other clothing. It makes me wonder why I buy it all.
It's not that I have a huge vault filled with cycle gear but I certainly have enough to be getting on with. I could probably wear the stuff I have for the next five or ten years and not have to purchase another item of cycle clothing yet purchase I do. My (very basic) theory on this is of the old donkey and carrot scenario; If I buy cycling garments, I'll want to try them out. To try them out I have to go for a cycle. Therefore buying cycle clothing pushes me to go out and cycle more.
Of course it could just be that I like getting stuff.
P is for Pique: Pique's probably too strong a word but it starts with a P so it'll do. I'm sorry to say deflate doesn't start with a P so it won't do. Maybe I should have tried to shoehorn in puncture in an emotional sense? With the bicycle reference, that might have seemed almost clever. What a shame I'm not.
Anyway, my slightly peeved (maybe I should have used P is for Peeve) grump comes from an order I made with Bike Dock. I had ordered my lovely lady three pairs of their Altura Night Vision tights because they were listed for a mere £19-99 GBP each. It seemed like a great price. In addition to the tights, I ordered some other bits and pieces. I think the total order came to a little over £130 GBP.
This morning I received an e-mail apologising and telling me they had a software problem and the tights were incorrectly priced on their website. Apparently the actual price is £34-99 GBP. As the error had been on their part, they said they'd give me another ten percent off the £34-99 GBP.
I appreciate it was an error and am grateful for their apology but, more often than not, companies tend to honour the incorrect price. That being the case, I decided to cancel the order in its entirety. It's the first time I've tried to order anything from Bike Dock and it doesn't entice me to do so again. I'd imagine they're not obliged to sell items at the listed price if there is a mistake but it annoys me they didn't offer to do so. As I wrote earlier, in my experience, normally shops do sell items for the listed price in this scenario. It was, after all, their mistake.
Rather than put me off shopping there, they could have honoured the price and I would have thought 'That's good of them. I'll shop there again' instead of my current 'That's not as good as other shops. I'll not hurry back there to buy anything'. It seems silly on their part. They might have had to take a slight hit on tights but would have earned a new customer (potentially both online and physically in the shop) and good words from me to other prospective customers. Besides, I'd think the profits from the other items I was going to buy likely more than offset any losses incurred from the tights.
As I say, they didn't do anything particularly bad, they just didn't do anything that good. Other shops have shown considerably superior customer service and will get my business instead. They've left a bit of a bad taste. Maybe they'll write back to my cancel the order e-mail and redeem themselves. That remains to be seen. I'll be surprised if they do.
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