Cycling in a skirt

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


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Cycling in Chile: Riding through the desert on a bike with no chain….

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

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The Tale of a One-handed Wannado

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


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And it was all going so well…..

A favourite homily of my Granny C’s was the pithy caution that, ‘Pride comes before a fall

She was so right. 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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Night Rider

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