A regular Friday with a trip to work. Like all the riding I'm doing my best to vary the route because it does get tedious turning over the same roads time after time.
So this morning, and a wonderful sunny, misty Spring one it was too, I headed up through Congresbury, A370 and then turned off at Flax Bourton and up Belmont Hill, through Failand and down across the suspension (and best) bridge (in the world), down through Clifton and into work.
For the way back I took on the Alpe d'Huez of Bristol, or Dundry Hill the steep way, on the main road towards Chew valley. Whilst there are only four hairpin(ish) bends on it, I bet it's far steeper, it peaks at about 18.5% according to Charlie, and is pretty much never below 12% for about a mile. Rubbish comparison, but then there are probably few Citroen Saxos on Alpe d'Huez either, which generally makes cycling harder.
From there I headed through Chew Stoke and then wiggled past Nempnett and Butcombe, Blagdon, and Churchill, before climbing over the Mendips through Rowberrow and Shipham.
By the time I got home I was pretty tired for despite my best endeavours I hadn't really eaten enough in the afternoon and was exhausted. My speed on the way in had been pretty healthy, but it's really difficult to pick up speed in those narrow lanes round Butcombe, gravel on the descents, blind corners, and there was nasty headwind most of the time. OK I admit it, I'm trying to explain away a rubbish performance. But I'm sure the climbing practice will help towards my great leap forwards.
http://ridewithgps.com/routes/413034
If you have managed to read this far, I'd like to ask you to sponsor me. I know you get loads of requests but this one is quite small. All I want is for a one pound donation. One of my rides in June is a charity one for the same oncology centre in Bristol that I raised money for last year. I'm doing a 100 mile ride, with 100 people so I thought if 100 people sponsored me 1 pound each that would mean a lot of people gave a little.
The link is here, and at the top of the blog. http://www.justgiving.com/mendiprouleur
Skip and I are out on Sunday, doing a flat and fast ride to the south west. We are going to a new cafe too, I bet Mark Cavendish doesn't have to worry about these sorts of things. Actually I was over his house last weekend. No, not a grammatical error, I was looking down on the Isle of Man, though a cloudless sky from 30,000 feet in an Easyjet plane. Looked pretty flat from there, no wonder he's a rubbish climber. Bet he's moaning now about the gravel, the wind, blind corners........
Friday, 13 May 2011
Tuesday, 10 May 2011
When you get up in the morning and you see that crazy sun
I rode to work today, it was sunny in the morning and raining in the evening, the route is below.
When I die I hope you will keep me in your heart, and I hope today, and for a while, you can do the same for Wouter Weylandt, killed yesterday in the Giro. I really hope he's in a better place now.
When I die I hope you will keep me in your heart, and I hope today, and for a while, you can do the same for Wouter Weylandt, killed yesterday in the Giro. I really hope he's in a better place now.
Sunday, 8 May 2011
A teenage dream so hard to beat
Oh where to begin? Actually, those where the opening words of the Best Man at the wedding I went to yesterday, as well as summing up all the thought whirling round my head right now. Unlike him, I'm going to start in the middle.
12.50AM. Yes AM, in the morning, with darkness outside, but music and jollity inside. Mrs Mendip Rouleur and I were the last "men" standing from her side of the extended family. On the dance floor surrounded by people young enough to be our children probably. The Undertones. Pogoing. Us that is, not The Undertones, who like Mrs MR, come from Derry in Ireland. There is some kind of family myth that Teenage Kicks was written for my wife's sister, but I've no idea if its true or not.
I loved that song, and unlike most of last night's late night revellers, I remembered it from first time around. But I don't buy its central premise. When I were a lad, a teenager, all that "does she fancy me?", "my friend likes you, do you like her?" and the worst of all "I really like you as a friend" stuff, caused me no end of anguish. Bikes and football are so much easier to understand. Plus ca change.
I was eight sheets to the wind, having a riot, and given that this was a mixed marriage, yes Irish to English, in fact Lancashure, I wasn't entirely sure where I fitted in. Weddings are like that, either a fight breaks out, or they become a huge melting pot of drunk people getting to know each other, laughing at the smallest things and generally having fun. This one was the latter and I did.
At one point I thought I'd arrived at a Jane Horrocks sound-a-like convention, but they were a great laugh, and the Irish, well they were themselves, we even had the Pogues near the end, the music not the real thing. Though they are about as Irish as me.
Of course, there was a price to pay, a slightly shaky me was one of the earliest into breakfast because of the lunchtime flight back to Bristol. And I'd missed the ACG ride over some hills to the Walled Garden. So with a flurry of texts when I got back home, I found out the route, vaguely, and decided to do it. I knew I wouldn't catch them up. Mainly because they finished about 6 hours before I started, and there was no coffee stop. But it was going well, despite the strong southerly wind, until the rain came.
BBC weather on this occasion, and me with just a light gilet and shorts on. No overshoes either. I always find the best thing to do is just go as fast as you can to keep warm. And I did alright considering the depredations of last night.
Maybe I should do it before sportives, there's a thought dook,
http://ridewithgps.com/routes/404515
12.50AM. Yes AM, in the morning, with darkness outside, but music and jollity inside. Mrs Mendip Rouleur and I were the last "men" standing from her side of the extended family. On the dance floor surrounded by people young enough to be our children probably. The Undertones. Pogoing. Us that is, not The Undertones, who like Mrs MR, come from Derry in Ireland. There is some kind of family myth that Teenage Kicks was written for my wife's sister, but I've no idea if its true or not.
I loved that song, and unlike most of last night's late night revellers, I remembered it from first time around. But I don't buy its central premise. When I were a lad, a teenager, all that "does she fancy me?", "my friend likes you, do you like her?" and the worst of all "I really like you as a friend" stuff, caused me no end of anguish. Bikes and football are so much easier to understand. Plus ca change.
I was eight sheets to the wind, having a riot, and given that this was a mixed marriage, yes Irish to English, in fact Lancashure, I wasn't entirely sure where I fitted in. Weddings are like that, either a fight breaks out, or they become a huge melting pot of drunk people getting to know each other, laughing at the smallest things and generally having fun. This one was the latter and I did.
At one point I thought I'd arrived at a Jane Horrocks sound-a-like convention, but they were a great laugh, and the Irish, well they were themselves, we even had the Pogues near the end, the music not the real thing. Though they are about as Irish as me.
Of course, there was a price to pay, a slightly shaky me was one of the earliest into breakfast because of the lunchtime flight back to Bristol. And I'd missed the ACG ride over some hills to the Walled Garden. So with a flurry of texts when I got back home, I found out the route, vaguely, and decided to do it. I knew I wouldn't catch them up. Mainly because they finished about 6 hours before I started, and there was no coffee stop. But it was going well, despite the strong southerly wind, until the rain came.
BBC weather on this occasion, and me with just a light gilet and shorts on. No overshoes either. I always find the best thing to do is just go as fast as you can to keep warm. And I did alright considering the depredations of last night.
Maybe I should do it before sportives, there's a thought dook,
http://ridewithgps.com/routes/404515
Monday, 2 May 2011
You can't give me the dreams that are mine anyway
Opportunity knocks. Pretty loudly, with an imminent warning that he's not coming back until at least next Tuesday, so rest or no rest, if I want to go out on my bike with him, I'd better do it today.
I couldn't persuade Skip either so it was just me, the bike, and a few thoughts left over from the Cotswold Spring Classic. Skip and I have a habit of revisiting old conversations, I think there must be some deep psychological meaning to that, unfinished business maybe. Today, events unfolding half the world away, took me back to my own words. There are not right or wrong answers, only cause and effect, action and consequence, morality is relative, sometimes, and as Chou Enlai is reputed to have said when asked about the efficacy of the French Revolution, thought for a moment before uttering "too early to say". And this was 200 years later.
Is it wrong to kill people? Does it depend on your perspective, or the consequence? Or the virtue of those doing or ordering the deed? Is it a good thing that some people feel good that someone has been killed, or bad that people like me ask questions about the complexities of morality?
Perhaps I'd better stick to cycling, it's simpler. If possible it was even windier than yesterday, coming from the north east, straight down the gorge into my face. Again, there were few cyclists about, the ones I saw were tanking it in the other direction. I'm glad I wasn't going down the gorge in that wind, you get some strange eddies and flurries around some of the bends and corners.
I was originally going to turn left at the top of the gorge, but couldn't face the direct headwind anymore, so changed tack a bit and headed along the road towards Green Ore. Horror of horrors, that stretch that had smooth black asphalt, now has horrible newly-laid chippings on it, no idea why they have done that when there are so many pot-holed roads they could have attended to. Like yesterday, once again I headed down to Chewton Mendip past the Waldegrave estate. Turning towards Litton I was at last out of the wind, and when I got on the main road through the Chew valley, it was pretty much a full tailwind.
Never has that road been so enjoyable! I was flying down the hills so fast it gave me loads of momentum to get at least half way up each succeeding uphill, and the gale on my back was akin to a helping hand over each crest. When I got to Blagdon I decided to take the steep road to the top of Burrington Coombe. Delightfully, the old knackered road on that hill has been resurfaced with some lovely smooth tarmac, which will make descending it a lot safer in future.
It's pretty steep at the bottom, but once past Yew Valley it settles down into a steady 8%, with a couple of short steeper bits here and there. Once at the top I had that tailwind again, this time for the long sweeping descent of the Coombe. And just as hoped, I recorded a new maximum speed for the year, and probably the fastest I have done with a 50 tooth front chainset ever (wow, anoraks of the world unite, I can't believe I have just recalled that fact without looking it up). 45.3 mph. I'll just check..........As I thought. I have only been faster on a bike 3 times, and all were on my Kona, which has a bigger top gear.
From there I wended my way home via the Langford Arms (I really must stay there one day to see what it's like and who else stays there), Ghost hill and Sandford. About 36 miles all in all, and I think that makes a pretty good training loop, with a bit of everything thrown in. Charlie records a point top speed of 68mph, but that couldn't be true, it did feel great though.
http://ridewithgps.com/routes/393166
I couldn't persuade Skip either so it was just me, the bike, and a few thoughts left over from the Cotswold Spring Classic. Skip and I have a habit of revisiting old conversations, I think there must be some deep psychological meaning to that, unfinished business maybe. Today, events unfolding half the world away, took me back to my own words. There are not right or wrong answers, only cause and effect, action and consequence, morality is relative, sometimes, and as Chou Enlai is reputed to have said when asked about the efficacy of the French Revolution, thought for a moment before uttering "too early to say". And this was 200 years later.
Is it wrong to kill people? Does it depend on your perspective, or the consequence? Or the virtue of those doing or ordering the deed? Is it a good thing that some people feel good that someone has been killed, or bad that people like me ask questions about the complexities of morality?
Perhaps I'd better stick to cycling, it's simpler. If possible it was even windier than yesterday, coming from the north east, straight down the gorge into my face. Again, there were few cyclists about, the ones I saw were tanking it in the other direction. I'm glad I wasn't going down the gorge in that wind, you get some strange eddies and flurries around some of the bends and corners.
I was originally going to turn left at the top of the gorge, but couldn't face the direct headwind anymore, so changed tack a bit and headed along the road towards Green Ore. Horror of horrors, that stretch that had smooth black asphalt, now has horrible newly-laid chippings on it, no idea why they have done that when there are so many pot-holed roads they could have attended to. Like yesterday, once again I headed down to Chewton Mendip past the Waldegrave estate. Turning towards Litton I was at last out of the wind, and when I got on the main road through the Chew valley, it was pretty much a full tailwind.
Never has that road been so enjoyable! I was flying down the hills so fast it gave me loads of momentum to get at least half way up each succeeding uphill, and the gale on my back was akin to a helping hand over each crest. When I got to Blagdon I decided to take the steep road to the top of Burrington Coombe. Delightfully, the old knackered road on that hill has been resurfaced with some lovely smooth tarmac, which will make descending it a lot safer in future.
It's pretty steep at the bottom, but once past Yew Valley it settles down into a steady 8%, with a couple of short steeper bits here and there. Once at the top I had that tailwind again, this time for the long sweeping descent of the Coombe. And just as hoped, I recorded a new maximum speed for the year, and probably the fastest I have done with a 50 tooth front chainset ever (wow, anoraks of the world unite, I can't believe I have just recalled that fact without looking it up). 45.3 mph. I'll just check..........As I thought. I have only been faster on a bike 3 times, and all were on my Kona, which has a bigger top gear.
From there I wended my way home via the Langford Arms (I really must stay there one day to see what it's like and who else stays there), Ghost hill and Sandford. About 36 miles all in all, and I think that makes a pretty good training loop, with a bit of everything thrown in. Charlie records a point top speed of 68mph, but that couldn't be true, it did feel great though.
http://ridewithgps.com/routes/393166
Sunday, 1 May 2011
Too slow to notice what's wrong
A few weeks ago Skip and I were going to do this hilly ride over to Bruton and back, for some reason we decided to go to Glastonbury instead. I think I was tired or it was raining or something. So today, after the 84th Bank holiday of the year, and all family duties fulfilled we both found ourselves with an opportunity, or a window, and probably because we are both getting very bored of doing the same routes, we resurrected the Bruton loop.
First up was Shipham Hill, then along to Charterhouse, across the top of the Mendips and down to Chewton Mendip past the Waldegrave estate. Then we wiggled about a bit, eventually descending on the main road into Shepton, before peeling off on back roads, down another marvellous descent into Evercreech, and over the big hill north of, and into Bruton.
The coffee place on the high street looked fab, only there was nowhere to put our bikes, so we bumbled on through Ditcheat, Wraxhall Hill and across the lumps and bumps near Pilton, skirted Wells and ended up and Sweets. Where I had a lovely bacon sandwich, and Skip had a walnut and carrot cake, or death on a plate as the atopic me calls it. Well it was lunchtime by now.
Fuelled by strong coffee we made good time on the remaining, largely flat route home. From there it was a short blast back through Wedmore and Clewer and back home. By the time I made it home my total mileage was about 65 miles, with just over 5000 feet of climbing, and all done at an average of 15 mph. Surprisingly. I say this because there was plenty of climbing, and descending on dry gravelly and unknown roads, so it was wasn't always possible to go flat out.
Here are two sequences of dates that depress me. 1932, 1978, 1989, 1992, 2003 and almost certainly 2011. I'm typing this because I can't stand the pain of the inevitability of watching the Irons go down again. But it's gonna happen, almost certainly if form and history are anything to go by. And there is nothing I can do about it. I just have to decide whether to renew my season ticket again. I have had it for 21 years and I'm seriously wondering if it is worth it.
The second sequence may affect you as well, especially if you are around about my age. 1983, 1987, 1992, 1997, 2001, 2005, 2010. Quite easy this one, the general election sequence. That's not the depressing bit. I have lived in five constituencies in those 7 elections. And not once has my vote counted for anything. Like most of you I'd guess. Our stupid electoral system puts the power to change a government in the hands of less that a million people. Is that democracy?
Of course AV is not a great system either, but it's not complicated STV is a great system and that is complicated), and anyway, we have a complicated tax system, and that doesn't stop them. So if you are wondering what is the point of voting on Thursday, and can't decide, do it for me. Stop me moaning about one tiny thing for one day. Because like the old saying goes, "if voting changed anything, perhaps they'd abolish it", and we just don't notice do we?
First up was Shipham Hill, then along to Charterhouse, across the top of the Mendips and down to Chewton Mendip past the Waldegrave estate. Then we wiggled about a bit, eventually descending on the main road into Shepton, before peeling off on back roads, down another marvellous descent into Evercreech, and over the big hill north of, and into Bruton.
The coffee place on the high street looked fab, only there was nowhere to put our bikes, so we bumbled on through Ditcheat, Wraxhall Hill and across the lumps and bumps near Pilton, skirted Wells and ended up and Sweets. Where I had a lovely bacon sandwich, and Skip had a walnut and carrot cake, or death on a plate as the atopic me calls it. Well it was lunchtime by now.
Fuelled by strong coffee we made good time on the remaining, largely flat route home. From there it was a short blast back through Wedmore and Clewer and back home. By the time I made it home my total mileage was about 65 miles, with just over 5000 feet of climbing, and all done at an average of 15 mph. Surprisingly. I say this because there was plenty of climbing, and descending on dry gravelly and unknown roads, so it was wasn't always possible to go flat out.
Here are two sequences of dates that depress me. 1932, 1978, 1989, 1992, 2003 and almost certainly 2011. I'm typing this because I can't stand the pain of the inevitability of watching the Irons go down again. But it's gonna happen, almost certainly if form and history are anything to go by. And there is nothing I can do about it. I just have to decide whether to renew my season ticket again. I have had it for 21 years and I'm seriously wondering if it is worth it.
The second sequence may affect you as well, especially if you are around about my age. 1983, 1987, 1992, 1997, 2001, 2005, 2010. Quite easy this one, the general election sequence. That's not the depressing bit. I have lived in five constituencies in those 7 elections. And not once has my vote counted for anything. Like most of you I'd guess. Our stupid electoral system puts the power to change a government in the hands of less that a million people. Is that democracy?
Of course AV is not a great system either, but it's not complicated STV is a great system and that is complicated), and anyway, we have a complicated tax system, and that doesn't stop them. So if you are wondering what is the point of voting on Thursday, and can't decide, do it for me. Stop me moaning about one tiny thing for one day. Because like the old saying goes, "if voting changed anything, perhaps they'd abolish it", and we just don't notice do we?
Friday, 29 April 2011
You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess
When my friend the Marketeer was pregnant I used to give her a lift home from work, giving her the chance to observe my driving skills and patient and calm approach to the traffic. It was a good experience for me, she has this saying, which although ostensibly about rush-hour journeys, is actually much broader than that:
"Everyone is just trying to get home"
Think about that for a moment.
I thought about that too when the driver of a fan from Archway Brickwork and Paving undertook me and then gave me the finger and a mouth full of abuse. I got some more of that when I OVERtook him at the next set of traffic lights. Before you ask, my behaviour was exemplary, I didn't say or do anything at all. But I guess he had a bad day, and after all, he was just trying to get home.....
Yesterday I had a fairly typical commuter run on the bike to work and back. Hills on the journey in, into a very stiff north-easterly breeze, and a very cold start too, practically winter weather. Quite the reverse on the way home. Off came the sleeves on the jacket, and the leg warmers and I was still boiling hot. Fortunately the wind was now behind me and I fair flew home along the flat at just under 17mph average. I missed a bit of recording on the way in because I forgot to switch Charlie back on at one point, but it's accurate enough.
These long weekends caused by Easter, Spring holiday and of course the Royal Wedding are great for extra cycling, as well as getting all those extra jobs done. I'm quite ambivalent about the wedding, pleased to have the holiday, but slightly annoyed that some of my money will inevitably be diverted to pay for it all. I was thinking back to 1981, the year West Ham lost the League cup final in dubious circumstances, (he was offside), my Dad painted the garage door and I did my O levels. And a terrible economic situation, and riots on the streets, and a bleak future ahead of us all. Government needs a bit of a distraction, let's have a circus to take their mind off it all.
Oh, and a royal wedding, yes that was supposed to be a love story too. What I'd really like to watch is the reception, rather than the service or the dress. See how the slightly edgier Middleton relatives cope with the wrong knife and fork, or whether there's any altercations and Fergie shouts "leave it Andrew he's not worth it". Probably not, but it it's an amusing image.
But maybe, just maybe, they are trying to get home too.
"Everyone is just trying to get home"
Think about that for a moment.
I thought about that too when the driver of a fan from Archway Brickwork and Paving undertook me and then gave me the finger and a mouth full of abuse. I got some more of that when I OVERtook him at the next set of traffic lights. Before you ask, my behaviour was exemplary, I didn't say or do anything at all. But I guess he had a bad day, and after all, he was just trying to get home.....
Yesterday I had a fairly typical commuter run on the bike to work and back. Hills on the journey in, into a very stiff north-easterly breeze, and a very cold start too, practically winter weather. Quite the reverse on the way home. Off came the sleeves on the jacket, and the leg warmers and I was still boiling hot. Fortunately the wind was now behind me and I fair flew home along the flat at just under 17mph average. I missed a bit of recording on the way in because I forgot to switch Charlie back on at one point, but it's accurate enough.
These long weekends caused by Easter, Spring holiday and of course the Royal Wedding are great for extra cycling, as well as getting all those extra jobs done. I'm quite ambivalent about the wedding, pleased to have the holiday, but slightly annoyed that some of my money will inevitably be diverted to pay for it all. I was thinking back to 1981, the year West Ham lost the League cup final in dubious circumstances, (he was offside), my Dad painted the garage door and I did my O levels. And a terrible economic situation, and riots on the streets, and a bleak future ahead of us all. Government needs a bit of a distraction, let's have a circus to take their mind off it all.
Oh, and a royal wedding, yes that was supposed to be a love story too. What I'd really like to watch is the reception, rather than the service or the dress. See how the slightly edgier Middleton relatives cope with the wrong knife and fork, or whether there's any altercations and Fergie shouts "leave it Andrew he's not worth it". Probably not, but it it's an amusing image.
But maybe, just maybe, they are trying to get home too.
Monday, 25 April 2011
It's knowing that your door is always open and your path is free to walk
The Cotswold Spring Classic 2011, 170km version (about 107 miles in English).
Skip and I were discussing blogs, how hard it is to find something interesting about our riding or new or innovative.
Here are the facts: It was hard work, the hills were of the steep up and steep down variety (largely), with the odd gradual descent to make up for it. I rode every inch, unlike a lot of people who, perhaps wisely, walked up the 20% wall at the end of the ride, and then had the energy to finish OK. It was my first century ride of the year, so given I used the same nutrition strategy as last week (90 miles) it was no surprise that I was a gibbering idiot at , um, yes 91 miles.
Skip brought me home on her wheel, much as an indulgent parent collects their drunk teenage child from their first party, and calmly and lovingly puts them to bed with a paracetamol and a large glass of water. Once I'd had the cycling equivalent, a free pasta meal and a recovery shake, I felt much better. But I have learned my lesson (again).
Our mood was pretty relaxed for most of the ride, we had agreed to pootle, and that's pretty much how it panned out, it was a lovely day, gentle on my mind as these things go. Some of last week's White Horse route was involved as well as a section of a Cotswolds ride I did last summer, so familiar territory. And of course K1 was born and raised in Stroud, although I was on the Red Madone, but I knew from collecting K1 from the bike maternity ward, that Stroud is like Cornwall- no flat bits.
We even got given an Easter Egg by the organisers, one each, which just goes to show how healthy living is prompted by these events. I'm going to eat the lot in a minute. The most bizarre incident of the day was two (and it has to be said, Northern) tourists, out walking down the afore-mentioned 20% wall, deciding to take my photo as I cycled up it. No idea why, perhaps Skip can tell you:
http://www.thecyclingmayor.com/?m=201104
(a great review by a great blogger). Skip and I are both happily married to other people, but she has developed this worrying trait of saying "yes dear" to me as I blather on about bad driving, potholes, or Taylor Swift (don't ask). I know I can give the appearance of a grumpy old man, but inside this whinging exterior, is a youthful, optimistic person struggling to get out. So I am going to give you some unsolicited advice, that if followed, will gladden your heart.
Next weekend, or this week if you are off work, give that wedding business a miss, and go for a lovely walk in the wood. See some bluebells, have a picnic, and enjoy the fresh air, be gentle on your mind too, you might enjoy it. I know I'm going to.
Skip and I were discussing blogs, how hard it is to find something interesting about our riding or new or innovative.
Here are the facts: It was hard work, the hills were of the steep up and steep down variety (largely), with the odd gradual descent to make up for it. I rode every inch, unlike a lot of people who, perhaps wisely, walked up the 20% wall at the end of the ride, and then had the energy to finish OK. It was my first century ride of the year, so given I used the same nutrition strategy as last week (90 miles) it was no surprise that I was a gibbering idiot at , um, yes 91 miles.
Skip brought me home on her wheel, much as an indulgent parent collects their drunk teenage child from their first party, and calmly and lovingly puts them to bed with a paracetamol and a large glass of water. Once I'd had the cycling equivalent, a free pasta meal and a recovery shake, I felt much better. But I have learned my lesson (again).
Our mood was pretty relaxed for most of the ride, we had agreed to pootle, and that's pretty much how it panned out, it was a lovely day, gentle on my mind as these things go. Some of last week's White Horse route was involved as well as a section of a Cotswolds ride I did last summer, so familiar territory. And of course K1 was born and raised in Stroud, although I was on the Red Madone, but I knew from collecting K1 from the bike maternity ward, that Stroud is like Cornwall- no flat bits.
We even got given an Easter Egg by the organisers, one each, which just goes to show how healthy living is prompted by these events. I'm going to eat the lot in a minute. The most bizarre incident of the day was two (and it has to be said, Northern) tourists, out walking down the afore-mentioned 20% wall, deciding to take my photo as I cycled up it. No idea why, perhaps Skip can tell you:
http://www.thecyclingmayor.com/?m=201104
(a great review by a great blogger). Skip and I are both happily married to other people, but she has developed this worrying trait of saying "yes dear" to me as I blather on about bad driving, potholes, or Taylor Swift (don't ask). I know I can give the appearance of a grumpy old man, but inside this whinging exterior, is a youthful, optimistic person struggling to get out. So I am going to give you some unsolicited advice, that if followed, will gladden your heart.
Next weekend, or this week if you are off work, give that wedding business a miss, and go for a lovely walk in the wood. See some bluebells, have a picnic, and enjoy the fresh air, be gentle on your mind too, you might enjoy it. I know I'm going to.
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