Cycling in a skirt

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


9 Comments

Chicken!

The human body is an amazing thing. Not least because of its capability for learning from experiences, especially painful ones.

For example, if you touch something hot, you’ll likely say “!*!#?” (ouch), nurse your scalded hand and learn pretty quickly not to touch the hot thing again, because that would be stupid right? Continue reading

Advertisements


4 Comments

The Turning of the Screw

The woman just beyond the flowery curtain appears to be having some kind of meltdown.

I know that I shouldn’t be eavesdropping but the drapes are thinner than smoke and, to be honest, there’s been nothing else to break the tedium for the last 2 hours. Continue reading


1 Comment

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


2 Comments

Look Ma No Hands

It’s funny how a change in circumstances can broaden our horizons. Nearly 6 weeks after the accident and I’m becoming proficient at no-handed life. With the aid of strong teeth and leg muscles, most basic tasks are achievable. Continue reading


10 Comments

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


2 Comments

Dropping Behind (or how to lose a mountain bike race)

I’ve noticed that cycling and writing have definitely taken a downward turn over the last few weeks. Sometimes life just throws too many things at you and something has to give way to accommodate. Whatever it is, both the time (to cycle) and the inclination (to write) have definitely been lacking. Continue reading


9 Comments

The Pleasure Of The Pain – Celebrating Recovery

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