How can we ever know that when we say goodbye to someone, it will be for the last time. 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
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
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
My body is currently a mass of bruises and gashes, scratches and scrapes. So much so that, on a routine visit to my GP, she delicately enquired whether “everything was all right at home?”
In between stifled laughter, I cheerfully explained to her that the harm was entirely, and happily self-inflicted. And it is. But how life has changed in just one year and how I’m grateful for that pain. Continue reading
It’s Sunday evening…
- I have a new bike.
- I have a week off of work.
- I have to appear in court as a witness.
In the words of one of the world’s great philosophers… “Two out of three ‘aint bad”!
(Thank you Mr Meatloaf).