Wind & Rain


Riding a bike as I do most days you know that sometimes you will get wet and the wind will blow.  To be honest I generally don’t mind the rain and last night was a great example.  Setting off from work I knew that it was going to be a tricky ride home but like many things it comes down to the mind and I was totally up for it.  For the next 40 minutes the rain tipped it down and car drivers looked at me through the spray as if it was mad but I felt great, legs were pumping and keeping me warm and all the stresses and strains of a day at the paperface were washed away.  I was properly grinning like the joker, even the stinging of the rain on my face had no effect what so ever.  What I do struggle with though is the wind, firstly as you feel that you are often putting in huge effort and going nowhere but mostly the gusts which freak me out that I’m going to get blown into the traffic.  Still, even though i’ll ride in most stuff, you won’t find me venturing out like these Dutch guys who are the masters at riding in the wind – hold onto that bike !

thanks to The Inner Ring and Big Ring Riding for the clip


Bovril & Boots


There is something incredibly atmospheric and evocative for me about evening football matches, specifically winter evenings.  I think that the coldness and crispness created by the falling temperatures seems to magnify smells and noises.  The sizzle and smell from the burger vans is such that it would tempt a well fed vegetarian to take a gamble.  Little boys wrapped up in hats, scarves and gloves scurry along holding their dads hand excited as they know that they will be up past normal bedtime, and on a school night as well.  The sense of anticipation as you approach the ground is heightened and the glow from the floodlights is almost like a portal beckoning you in to another world.  Once inside the ground the shouts of the players seem amplified and the effort expended is evident from the trails of steam and vapour breath drifting into the night sky.  I was reminded of all this recently when I went down to Alfreton to watch my Newport County do battle.  Forget your over hyped millionaires this is what football is all about and of course the most evocative smell of all is neither victory or defeat but a cup of steaming hot Bovril