In the west of the Forest of Dean, there are a number of abandoned pill-boxes built during the second world war. A few of them are close to where the DIRT Magazine journo’s ride and build. So it’s not entirely surprising to find some enterprising rider, with balls the size of melons, has fused the … Continue reading Bunker Mentality
An expression slightly more couth than “buzzing about like a blue arsed fly” which traditionally warrants a suffix in the form of ‘lend me a broom to stick up my arse and I’ll sweep the floor while I’m here’ . For those not mentally tuned to Radio Hedgehog, the paired down summary is that my … Continue reading Spinning Plates
Not a new chemical element, although if it were the description would go something like this: “energetic particle not bound to any obvious reference model. Becomes excited when mixed with world. Consumes other heavy elements without increasing mass including chocolate brownies, cheesecakes and waffles the size of decking” So Jessie is 11. Hard to know … Continue reading Random-11
That’s it, right there. Documenting the maiden voyage of the good ship “pointless-niche” had me gloves off camera in hand. It was with great care the soul stealer was returned to its’ padded pouch, which may explain the lack of available ‘what the fuck have I left this time’ brain capacity to solve the difficult … Continue reading Tunnel Of Glove
Oh Lordy. That’s me back in 2002 equipped with “the best bike in the world, why would I need anything else?”. Cue hollow laughter. Also with hair. And none of it grey. I was already convinced that my best times had passed and that 40 was basically the end of the road. But no, here … Continue reading Ten years of whining
The 26th of December is the traditional day for me to bugger off riding somewhere for two or three nights away. This spookily coincides with an influx of relatives with whom my civil relationship is based almost entirely on abstinence. Which highlights both a lack of social skills and tolerance for which excuses are legion, … Continue reading Mucky Christmas.
Remember Winter? Cold, wet, dark and miserable?. The four seasonal horsemen of the apocalypse ride out from November through March before hibernating for the summer. Which is why we ride when it’s warm. dry, sunny and lovely. Yes? No. I reckon those four cloak-billowing mounted dementers have their eye on summer. And like the fifth … Continue reading Funny that.
10th anniversary of the CLiC24 event is done. I am back and still fully capable of independent movement. I am also very, very tired. So here’s a summary of the good, the not so good and the occasionally amusing. Things that rocked: 1) Atmosphere. Chilled out but superbly organised. It’s a million miles from Mayhem … Continue reading Done and Dusty.
Waterproof Jacket. Waterproof Socks. Waterproof Shorts*. Waterproof Socks. Winter Boots. Vast Tent (waterproof). Flippers. Goggles. Canoe. Beer. More Beer. Will To Live. Maybe a bike. Maybe not. Fairly standard packing list for any event caught in the crossfire of English weather, riding bicycles for indeterminable hours and me. Plan for snow and hope for the … Continue reading Pack it in.
And here’s a picture of a tree to remind myself how calm I am. Because there are a number of reasons that such mental nirvana may soon be transformed into a state best described as 30% tourettes, 30% head banging lunatic and 40% roof jumping depressive. The major reason is that CLiC24 is just around … Continue reading I am calm.