The vast and desolate beauty of the desert has inspired some of the greatest writers and thinkers of all time. Or, if you’re me, it inspires the corruption of some very catchy song lyrics …”I’m riding through the desert on a bike with no chain….” Continue reading
If you’re sitting comfortably then I’ll begin.
There was once a girl of indeterminate (but definitely not excessive) years who loved bicycles so much that not a day would go past without some time spent riding her shiny, metallic steeds. Continue reading
A favourite homily of my Granny C’s was the pithy caution that, ‘Pride comes before a fall’
She was so right. Continue reading
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
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
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
It’s night-time and I’m pinned face down in the muddy undergrowth, in the middle of a forest, in near total darkness.
The only sounds penetrating the inky atmosphere are my own erratic breathing and the snapping of twigs underfoot as an unknown someone closes in. Continue reading