Saturday, 31 December 2011

Can we all slow down and enjoy right now?

Five thousand, five hundred and eight and a half miles. That's how far I have cycled on real bikes this year, about 401 more than last year. I have oodles of statistics I could throw at you, but I've settled on just two. First, I cycled my miles 2% quicker than last year. Which must qualify as a marginal gain. Second, I divided my cycling into six categories (with Skip, with Bunny, Sportives, solo, commuting and other) and the largest in terms of mileage, by quite a long way, with nearly a third of the total, was my commuting. The BBC stuff, toiling away on the same roads, week after week. Sportives were second by the way, with nearly a quarter.

So it's been an incremental year all in all, on the bike front at least, and today was nice way to finish, a 60 mile trundle around mid Somerset with Skip, a few small hills but mainly on the flat. I'm still feeling my way back on the bike after the break, and as I type there have been no ill effects from Wednesday's crash. By the time I went to bed that day, I had a very sore left neck indeed, and was starting to get some other niggles. By Thursday lunchtime my neck was very sore indeed, and a trip to the osteopath confirmed a sideways whiplash from where my head had pivoted too far into the mud.

Fortunately, the medical advice was to go out and cycle 60 miles on Saturday. Well, not quite, he told me to keep moving the neck and apply heat every now and then, and take plenty of painkillers. Given that I think these sorts of things should be interpreted liberally, I'd say that equates to cycling. With paracetamol plus. The only thing I couldn't work into the ride was the exercise with the tennis ball, but three out of four is a good start.

There was more muck than the top shelf of a newsagent on the road, and a good sprinkling of double entendre too. (The large male chicken made an appearance, suitably remarked on, as did the inevitable comments about cycling locks when we got to the cafe at Rich's cider farm). The ride was a bit longer than planned, as we played a new game of "hunt the open cafe", a number were shut, perhaps in anticipation of the riotous time to be had at Langport on New Year's Eve. Blink and you could well miss it. Still, our rides wouldn't be our rides if we stuck to the plan, and you have to be flexible. Well I do anyway, spontaneity is my middle name don't you know.

So all was right with the world, a bit of a breeze, which we tacked around, and no rain. We even got a flock of sheep on the road in front of us, although disappointingly they turned into a field before they could envelop us. I have a fancy that they may have cleaned our bikes as they brushed past us. Or they may just have crapped all over my over shoes, either way it was an experience missed. They did behave like sheep though, predictably unpredictable, as you'd expect.

So with the bike washed and in the shed it's time to look forward. If I am to do well in my target ride in the Pyrenees in August, I will have to do things differently and this may mean cycling less. As in "less is more". This particular piece of management bollocks is not very appealing. Who wants to cycle less? Maybe I'll just have to cycle "harder" as in "harder is more". I just made that up, obviously. More hills, greater distances, low fat food, no chocolate,  faster, more stylishly, fewer crashes (so none then). Yes, that could work. I'd probably have no family and no job, but then at least I'd be a great cyclist.

This time a year ago I set out to enjoy myself more on the bike, that was the main goal. Know what? It still is. Bring on 2012, it's going to be great.

I hope your New Year is a healthy and happy one.

Wednesday, 28 December 2011

But you'll never see the end of the road while you're travelling with me

OK, let's get it out of the way. That moment. I've had a few crashes in my time, quite a lot when I used to go mountain biking, and one on the mountain bike on an icy road.  The most recent one before today was over in Ireland when the bike slipped from under me as I went round a corner, a combination of old tyres and oil on the road.

Today's was different in that it was the first one I have had in the middle of a group. I would not claim to be an experienced group rider but I have done enough miles (hundreds? thousands?) following people's wheels, and not just people I know either.

Today was a Somersetcycling arranged ride, a great idea for getting an eclectic bunch of people, and we had 25 at the start, together for a run over the levels from Burnham to Street. People came from all over, both geographically and in cycling terms, culturally. That meant that people had different expectations, and also perhaps different rules about how to behave and most importantly, whether to give warnings and signals or not. And that's the problem with eclectic groups.

So to the chap I rear-ended, I'd say only this. I didn't hear you give a warning and I don't think you gave one, and that is what every group ride I've ever been on has led me to expect. So I am sorry if I caused you to fall off when you stopped and I ran into the back of you and I hope you are OK. Maybe we should have a two minute briefing before these kind of rides to agree the etiquette we will all follow.

After the crash I carried on with Skip for about an hour, rejoined the main group before peeling off for home. As it was I ended up doing about 53 miles, in a hideously spaghetti-shaped profile:

I did feel quite sluggish, the conditions didn't help, neither did the fact that it's 18 days since i last sat on the bike, but it felt good to be out in the fresh air at least. I was a bit shakey when I got home, Skip reckons it was shock (see her award-winning and soon to be very widely available blog below), but it was also a combination of cold and lack of energy. Still, left-over turkey (again) and a couple of glasses of chardonnay is the perfect tonic for a wet, cold and eventful morning. All in all, it was good to be back on the bike, and I'm looking to get one more ride in before the end of December, for I am 53 miles off 5500 miles for the year. That would be nice.

Saturday, 10 December 2011

Fly along with me I can't quite make it alone

Let's get the moaning over and done with.

1. Weather forecasters

They have the best of intentions, and let's face it, they got half the forecast right. It was very, very cold. They were not to know that Doc and I would pick a route that followed every mucky lane on the levels, and tracked the rainclouds while we could see sunshine on the horizons we were heading to, and those we had come from. And we saw a lovely rainbow, and a heron standing on the road in front of us, numerous swans and a murmuration of starlings swooped all over us, though fortunately they didn't poop all over us. And there was barely a breath of wind.

So a big thanks to Kettley et al for their encouragement out onto the roads of Somerset. And a stunning exposition of Rule 9.

2. Italian cycle kit manufacturers

Clearly the Italians have a very different concept of "Winter" to us. The cold rain allied with the slightly flimsy bib tights, and moderately warm jacket, left me pretty cold by the end of the ride. That said, it's probably my own fault for going out at noon, on nothing more than a bowl of cereal. And I have to say the gloves are very toasty, and of course, the whole thing looks fantastic. So whilst there is a lot to be said for practicality and function, there is, on balance, tiny, tiny bit more to be said for style and aesthetics, and I stayed on the right side of Rule 17.

3. We nearly had a fantastic breach of Rule 59, when the Doc, on the right, and me, on the left, riding abreast (concentrate at the back) approached a turn and decided to go left and right respectively. Disaster, in the form of a tumble and even muckier and perhaps ripped kit, was averted at the last moment. I am particularly grateful to the Doc for answering the call and providing some great company today, and we mostly rode side by side, except where traffic forced us into said line. And I think we also saw good observance of Rule 67 on those occasions.

4. There was a point when it had been raining for a bit, when I was becoming a bit wimpy, and thinking of taking the short route home. But then, encouraged by the sterling presence of the Doc, I remembered Rule 5, and carried on, despite my foolish nutrition, kit choice, weather research and the mucky roads. No doubt about it, sometimes it's the only way to enjoy yourself.

Friday, 9 December 2011

Every precious dream and vision underneath the stars

Picture the scene. Moonlight cascading down upon a sheltered glade in the Mendip Hills, wind swirls around the chimney of the quaint cottage nestling in the dell. An owl hoots, and the gentle sound of the other birds is disturbed by the call of the lesser-spotted commutius cylistius, and his early morning call.

"F**k, ahh", as he fails to clip in with the winter cycling boots that have not been worn for nearly 9 months.

Well, winter has arrived hasn't it? There I was this morning on my  first proper cold morning commute of the season. Skull cap (freshly washed after rescuing Military Nurse from his spoke-breaking hypothermia), fleecy buff (sounds rude but is in fact a highly practical garment, enabling a balaclava effect), warm jersey AND windstopper softshell, long tights with built-in (not transfers, real patches) of reflective material, the warm winter socks that Bunny gave me for my birthday last year (helpfully embroidered, not by Bunny, with an R and an L, to avoid confusion), and the winter boots.

I vaguely remember thinking that the cleats on them were knackered and worn out last March, but it was the Spring so I thought I'll sort those out next Winter, as you do. Well, as I do and that bit of obfuscation led to a slight delay as I rooted out the mud of last Winter and trimmed the offending cleat. Just had to remember not to unclip my left foot and I was fine.

It was a beautiful ride in. Strangely quiet and with a nice tailwind I fair flew into the metropolis. It was quite a spectacular moon as well, especially when away from the streetlights.  As a nod towards the off season I went in on the A370 and came home the same way. Despite the moon, and my bright lights, it can be hard to see potholes and thorns on the back roads, and the main road is also relatively clear. The A370 is marginally quieter than the A38 too, and it gives good options for nipping off down reasonable B roads and cycle paths.

I was quite tired today as well, so into the wind coming home I just wanted to get it over with. I had one of those long meetings to attend at work this morning. One of those meetings where there are about 20 or so people (including me) all sat around the table, largely listening to the presenter, and occasionally the presenter would ask someone a random question. And as the presenter also happened to be the Managing Partner, and the rest of the audience were pretty influential, I dosed up on coffee before hand and during to ensure maximum alertness on my part.

This led to a caffeine crash about 4.30PM, and I was a bit slow on the way home into the wind, despite the lack of significant gradients.

I have also finally capitulated and given in to the ageing process. Its my eyes. About two years ago I started to struggle to read books and other close work, like keyboards on a PC for instance, although that is not an excuse for some of the drivel I have posted on the blogosphere.

My initial reaction was one of denial. Carry on and ignore the fact it's happening. Then I started to follow the advice of a wimpy optician, who pandered to my denial. Pull your glasses for distance down to the end of your nose. That was the advice, to change their focal length when you are reading. The next gem was to lessen my contact lens prescription to compensate. The result was I then couldn't see in the distance, and couldn't read either. So if I have ignored you in public in the last year, it has nothing to do with you, it's that I can't recognise your features.

Eventually I got fed up with all of that and gave in. This week I got full power back on the contact lenses (so now, for instance, I can read number plates again!), (and if I seem to ignore you it means that I am being my introverted self), and took delivery of a very fetching pair of varifocal glasses. Mrs Mendip Rouleur says I look like a dork but I don't care, I can now read books without contorting my face up into weird expressions, and see better distance than I have been able to for a long time.

And finally Esther, check out MN's great blog, I do hope his um, "seat" recovers, we were all sat in injury corner at the ACG do last Saturday, and I'm next at this rate:

Saturday, 3 December 2011

I found it hard it's hard to find......

Eight days I'd been off the bike, but it felt more like eight years. We had a three little pigs situation, a huff and a puff, and I'll climb that hill less efficiently than I've done for ages. And somehow I've managed to do close on 55 miles, at various points today I thought I'd "ride into form", but it never really happened and I felt like 2011 is ending on something of a damp squib.

That said, I still enjoyed myself, after all it is cycling, and there are few things in life more enjoyable. And the company was great too, for it was an official ACG ride, to which Skip, Boy Wonder and Military Nurse had made it. Life being life, there had to be the added complication of dropping the car off at the garage in Weston, for its 150K service (no wasp nest today though), but fortunately the strong westerly breeze propelled me to Axbridge in time to do Mrs Mendip Rouleur a favour and erect (steady) the Christmas tree, and get to Skip's house before the scheduled departure time.

It was my route too, and you know there is nothing I like better than taking people up the gorge. Look, I know it's childish, you know it's juvenile, but you still smirked or giggled didn't you? I find it odd we don't have a word in English for double entendre, as far as I know the French don't take it like we do.

From there we looped around the top, and as we were coming towards Burrington, "ping" one of the Nurse's spokes snapped, leaving his wheel slightly buckled and unrideable. He called the cavalry, or should that be the infantry, I don't know, and I gave him my emergency skull cap and gilet. For on the top of the Mendips, that brisk sea level breeze was now approaching a blustery wind, and no-one appreciates that when they are hanging around waiting for a rescue.

Chivalrously (hard to say and harder to spell), we left him there and carried on down Burrington Coombe, which was still fun, despite the headwind. Across to Wrington, and I thought I knew a short cut from the top of Long Lane to cut out that short stretch on the A38. It did the latter, but not the former, and we managed to find the messiest cut hedge in North Somerset. They may not always cut hedges well up here, but they do know how to re-surface a road, as we found out going down Brockley Coombe, and again later on up Ghost Hill (which is not really called that but I'm convinced there is a ghost there).

In between we blasted out into the full force of the wind as it whipped across the levels on the way into Yatton. Grateful for sure to reach the nice warm cafe at the station. I'm sure it will be making an appearance in next year's competition, the Strawberry Line cafe:

The soup and bread was lovely as was the coffee. So muddy were we by  now that we left a bit too much of it on their nice clean seats, but they seemed OK despite my profuse apology.

All that was left was for me to peel off in Sandford as the others headed back to Axbridge and I headed back to pick up my car in Weston. Unlike the cafe, they seemed quite keen to keep me out of their nice sparkly showroom, even to the extent they were happy for me to pay over the phone on Monday!

In a little over an hour's time I'm off to the ACG Christmas meal, so I better go and make myself even more beautiful than I am already. I wonder what we are going to talk about......

Sunday, 27 November 2011

A highway with no-one on it

It sounds a bit like a headache remedy, but Bunny and I are off to the Pyrenees again next year, late August to do the Coast to Coast "pro-strength" tour with Pyactif, the same guys who hosted us last year.

There is the possibility of another short multi day European adventure, on the bike, in the spring. But that's still just an idea in my head so you will have to wait to see if it becomes a reality.

It's tough, six days of full-on riding over all the cols you can name in the Pyrenees and lots I can't pronounce. So I have to step it up another level I think. I made big improvements in 2010, whereas this year has been more incremental (isn't that a horrible word?). So I have to do something different, and I think introduce some major changes.

I'll keep you posted. No riding this weekend, I hadn't planned to, but then a small window opened. Just as I was about to clamber through it, the sash broke and I had to stay inside after all. Oh well, we will just have to make the pre-Christmas ACG party ride a real belter!

Sunday, 20 November 2011

Sun shines through the rain

Circumstances separately collaborated to ensure that neither Skip nor I had riding companions this weekend. She got to ride a loop of the Mendips on a bright and breezy Saturday, while I was enduring Shopping centre hell, followed by what proved to be a precautionary trip to the local A & E (for Mrs Mendip Rouleur, who hasn't broken her fingers, just very badly bruised them, in a bizarre Ferdinandesque incident).

So to make things vaguely interesting, to me at least if no-one else, I decided to ride the same route the following day, but in reverse. Plus a bit more to my house and back. It can therefore be described as a virtual impromptu reverse ride in a pair. Maybe.

My weather was best described as mainly murky. I don't understand how I can have mist and wind all at the same time. But that is what greeted me as I peered out into the gloom. I put a warmer coat on and headed off down to Cheddar, and up its gorge. Almost all the way to the top of the Old Bristol road I had a nagging headwind. I say nagging, because although irritating, it doesn't really make any difference to you, just buzzes around ineffectually and annoyingly.

Old Bristol Hill was wet and bit gritty, so I didn't hit it full gas on the descent, and just as I passed the cathedral, it was time to go up again, although now I had a nice push from the tailwind, but I still found it hard to get into a rhythm. Taking the back lane at the top of the hill past some people in a field, clay-pigeon shooting, I managed to cover myself and the bike in a nice thick layer of mud. By the time I was on the main road I was toying with baling. Good job I didn't, I ate a small energy bar, got my head down and decided I was going to enjoy myself.

With the full wind at my back, the speed rose and I even hit the lights at Green Ore on green, and breezed down into Chewton Mendip and along to Litton and East Harptree. I was on a roll, especially as the sun was out on the north side of the Mendips, and this continued all the way up the hill and along the top to the start of Burrington Coombe. Which is always a great descent. After a slow 90 minutes I was making up for lost time, and looped round through Langford and Churchill and up to Shipham.

I was overtaken by some motorbikes just as I started to descend Shipham gorge, and yes, it was the old braking issue again, which rather spoiled my fun on the last corner and sprint for the roundabout in Cheddar. It was still gloomy back on the south side, but no matter, it was a tailwind up the bypass to home, total distance of 43.74 and average speed of 15.3 mph (Charlie lost reception for a bit, so his stats below are not 100% reliable).

There weren't many cyclists out today, at least, not where I was. I think there may have been something going on in Cheshire, either that or they are all down on the levels at Sweets. I didn't have any problems with cars either, unusual for a Sunday, although I'm beginning to get a hang-up about motorbikes stopping me descending hills at optimum speed.
I have a couple of commuting trips planned for this week, but no riding next weekend as it is mini Mendip Rouleur's birthday, so it will probably go quiet here for a bit. I hope to announce my plans for 2012 shortly, I can tell you are all baiting your breath in feverish excitement.
On a separate note, please keep the evening of 22nd December free. I assume that you will all have your phone's glued to your ears, with Cav's allotted number on speed dial and number repeat. Cycling may well be the new golf, but that does not give us the excuse to allow a man who looks more at home in the pub than in professional sport to win Sports Personality of the Year. Quite simply Mark Cavendish has had the greatest year a British (and I'm not having any truck about his nationality, what was he wearing in Copenhagen? Thank you, end of.) cyclist has ever had, and may well ever have.
Cycling is here to stay. When I was a teenager I tended to wear my heart on my sleeve, yes even more than now. Some of our kit may be carbon, and I know I am a junkie for expensive sunglasses. But cycling still has heart and soul, I was 12 inches away from Cav on Old Bristol Hill for Pete's sake! The same hill that I descended today and Skip climbed yesterday. It is the people's sport and needs that recognition. Rant over.

Friday, 18 November 2011

All things in common, all people one

5 o' clock in the morning is rarely a good time to wake up and get out of bed. Unless you are a child aged less than 10 on Christmas morning, then it's compulsory. But I have been that unfortunate position three times this week, twice because I had to get to our London office at a reasonable time. However, the third of these, today, was far more pleasant. My first Friday ride into work for three weeks, and what's more, some more very reasonable weather.

This is all very confusing for me. I'm now riding in the dark practically the whole of the ride in, and certainly for all of the ride home. So when you stick your head out of the door at that unearthly hour to see if the actual weather correlates with the forecasted weather, the task is made somewhat harder by the dark.

I've just realised that "somewhat" is probably a word banned by the Plain English Campaign. In my defence, when has being "plain" ever been a compliment? I bet they really want to call themselves The Straightforward English Campaign, but that smacks of long-windedness.

Back to the weather. At 5AM in November I can't quite bring myself to believe it is warm. So I was probably a tad over-dressed, but not so much that it mattered. I also felt pretty slow on the way in, over the hill by the airport, but when I reviewed the stats I wasn't. I've stopped taking Charlie to work, no point in mapping the same route over and over again, and I can't see the display in the dark anyway. Saves a bit of faff time pre-ride, and a job of downloading on return.

If you are that bothered about my route, leave me a comment, I'll ignore it, but you might get it out of your system. I'd say it was rather uneventful, with two things of note to report. First was the interesting (as in "may you never live in interesting times" interesting) discovery of ten tones of slippery wet mud on a downhill stretch of back road, just before a nice corner, when I was already doing about 35 mph. In these situations I find the best remedy to an impending crash is to shut your eyes and hope for the best, which I duly did. Probably of more importance in me remaining upright was the successful battle against the urge to brake.

So my resolve did not break, my bike didn't break, I gave myself a break and gently slewed around the corner, just grateful there was no oncoming traffic. Farmers eh? Got to love them.

Secondly I have now passed my total mileage target, to beat last year's total of 5107 miles, so I now officially have achieved all I set out to do on the bike in 2011. Although I have given myself another target to keep me interested and pushing the pedals that little bit harder until 31 December.

On a deeper note I went to St. Paul's Cathedral this week. A long story, but way back in pre-history, when I had half a head of hair, I used to do Banking Exam studies in Moorgate on Thursdays. My employer at the time was generous enough to give me day-release. Classes started at 9AM and went on until lunchtime, when there was a gap of 2 hours until we were finished off by Accountancy at 3PM. Sometimes I would wander up to the Cathedral and sit quietly in one of the side chapels and ponder on things, as is my wont.

So after I finished work on Wednesday, about 5.30PM, I thought I'll pop in and wander up memory lane. I also wanted to gawp at the protest camp, and compare and contrast with the folk we often see outside Heaphy's cafe in Glastonbury.

Inside the cathedral it was all very nice, but a service was going on, with a lovely choral thing going on, but not many in the congregation, and I was prevented from going up to the side chapel by a slightly officious security man. As I wandered out of the main door, the sermon started, all sorts of stuff about "we are all one church", "fellow man", etc. etc.

Outside it was a  bit of a shock to hear a hippie with a large megaphone, preaching essentially the same message but to a much larger, if considerably dirtier, crowd. They were also very friendly to me, despite my business garb, maybe if I'd had lycra on, they would have kicked my head in.

I'm not sure what to make of all that, I'd be interested in your thoughts, and with this one, I will engage in some constructive dialogue, promise. For sure, the world is a crazy, crazy place. And if you've been reading my blogs you will know what I think about cliches. Just because they are doesn't mean they don't contain a truth. But maybe it's time people really did start behaving like we are just one big peloton.

Sunday, 13 November 2011

You always loved this time of year

Despite feeling a bit tired today, it was sunny and dry outside, and these are opportunities not to be missed. Who knows what weather will be thrown at us this winter, so I couldn't pass up the chance to get out on K-1 for a quick blast around the countryside. Cheddar gorge looked like this today, I know it's wrong to take pleasure in global warming, but I do like  the warm weather, it gave me another chance to wear shorts-in November!

I love the turning leaves, and there are still lots of vivid colours attached to the trees, so I did my best to stick to back roads with lots of deciduous trees by the roadside. And sheltered from the stiff easterly breeze. And dry. And a good surface.  So hard to please. It was really a delightful ride. I headed over towards Congresbury and Yatton, before rolling along some quiet lanes to the foot of Brockley Coombe, which is a lovely gentle hill to ride up, and met all of my criteria.

From there it was the long downhill to Chew Stoke, and as an alternative to the West Harptree hill, I found a quiet lane heading up to the top of the Mendips. A lady at the bottom cheerily said hello, and warned me that the hill was steep, long and narrow. She was right, it was about a mile at a steady 10%, but I didn't mind, because it was also car-free, and a road that I had never been on before. I've lived here for 10 years and I'm still finding new roads and hills.

Once up at the top, I ummed and ahhed about what to do next, and decided Cheddar gorge offered the best option. I was overtaken at the top by a couple of motorbikes, but there throttles weren't quite as brave as they thought, as I caught up with them and their constant breaking towards the end.

From the gorge it was a relatively straight route home, via a quick call to make myself more comfortable in central Cheddar. Outside said convenience a large teenager was forcing the head of a small teenager against the wall. I had been discussing the whole idea of civic duty on Friday with a colleague, and here I was faced with a moral dilemma. Fortunately I was in a bit of a rush, so deferred a decision till I came out, by which time they all seemed to be friends again. So I probably did the right thing and saved myself a load of grief.

Saturday, 12 November 2011

All that you build, all that you break

Get yourself a hot drink, plump up the cushions, settle back into your seats, I'm back. So welcome, officially, to Mendip Rouleur, the new home, of, well The Mendip Rouleur. It was OK for Luca Brasi but not for me. I know. One day, I hope this blog will be as big as Fishneedsabicycle wasn't.

I consulted the modern day font of all knowledge, Wikipedia, to see what the official definition of a rouleur is. You can read it here:

Good all-rounder is the essence of it. Or "crap in every position" as we used to say about football's equivalent, the utility player. Either way, I am delighted to see that Jens is quoted as an example of a rouleur, and I hope by re-branding my blog to get one millionth of his savvy coolness rubbing off on my attempts to meet my cycling objectives for 2012.

This is the best clip of Jens that I could find imo. I particularly like his comments about his suitcase, definitely a Perceiving type.

More on the 2012 objectives when I've worked them out. I've already entered a few rides, Mad March Hare, Dartmoor Classic and Tour of Wessex (all 3 days of the latter, which this year I will complete.). Fighting talk. I also have a vague plan to go and do the Dragon ride without paying, I feel morally justified, but don't know if I can be bothered. I won't take their food, so I won't cost them anything, just follow the route and suck the wheels. I also want to do the White Horse challenge for the fun and beauty of it, without aiming for a fast time.

So to today, the ACG, Figgy, Boots, Doc, Skip and I headed out on a lovely route up Shipham Hill, over the top of the Mendips and down to Wells, with a stop at the Fenney Castle tea rooms, before a nice dash over the levels and back home. With a fast descent of Notting Hill in there too, it was a blast, really enjoyed it. I had 3/4 length shorts on, and my legs looked like they had one of those mud baths you get at an expensive hotel spa. Or not. Perhaps this could be the active and cheaper alternative. Muddy does not come close, and as the 5 of us were fairly together most of the time, we all had an urchin look about us at the end.

Route from Charlie is here:

I was having a chat with an IP lawyer the other day about who actually owns my "work" on this blog. As you may be able to imagine if you know any IP lawyers, it was a very interesting discussion, and I think we concluded that Google do. Own the work that is. Which is probably fitting, because in about 10 years time the whole of world's property, tangible, intellectual or any other kind you can imagine, will be owned by either Google or the Chinese government. Or maybe the oil sheiks, but by then their time will be passing. So this blog is a temporary home, someday, maybe not soon, but someday, it will exist as a standalone site. So pay attention or I'll lose even more of you.

Wednesday, 9 November 2011

Light my way

Twenty years on, much in my thoughts, especially as I passed up the opportunity to ride today.

But much in my thoughts, here is one for you. And a good one to start the next part of the journey.