Cycling in a skirt

One life, some bicycles. A million possibilities, zero clue!


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Nursery Rhymes for the Adult Bus Traveller

There’s an annoyingly catchy children’s song that’s spanned multiple generations here in the UK. It’s full of tinkly, inane repetition and silly actions and, for the last 8 months, I can’t get it out of my head. Continue reading

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The Secret of Eternal Youth

It is a lesser known but universal rule that, if your birthday falls whilst holidaying in another country, you don’t get any older.

Absolute truth. Continue reading


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How to pack a bike in 103 easy steps

Two things I never learn?

Number 1. When you’re given a time estimate for doing something, never believe it. Double it, add the largest number you can think of, then multiply it a by a thousand.

Number 2. Never, ever, if you can help it, go on holiday carrying a bike

Continue reading


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Cycling on the surface of the moon

I appear to be cycling on the moon. That or in one of those paintings of Hell by Hieronymus Bosch. Huge volcanic mounds rising from a dead ocean of gnarled, blackened lava rock; a lunar-sea of rubble broken only by thin ribbons of silken tarmac which slide sinuously through the hellish terrain.

First impressions: if this is hell, then it’s got great roads to cycle on. Continue reading


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Climb Every Mountain?

When questioned as to just why he wanted to climb Mt Everest The British mountaineer George Mallory famously responded – “Because it’s there”.

It’s such a brilliant and bald statement that encapsulates why we human beings daily strive to complete essentially pointless feats of endurance. Continue reading


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Midges and Maniacs: Part 2

Beyond exhausted, the shock finally set in. Shaking and tearful, I refused to get out of the car – so that’s where we stayed, listening to the rain and waiting for dawn.

Continued from the previous post…. Continue reading


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Midges and Maniacs (Part 1)

Heading off to Wales for a week of mountain biking, it began to get a bit disconcerting after the 11th text message which said

Have fun, don’t hurt yourself too much”.

I don’t know if these concerned messages were indicative of my (lack of) skill or just the perception my nearest and dearest have of the sport.

However as it turned out, the very real danger was to come from somewhere wholly unexpected. Continue reading