Is there a better country that Sweden? Successfully managed the transition from berserk blood-soaked conquest and pillage, accompanied by rabid Protestantism into peace-loving, militarily-neutral social democracy and a liberal approach to love, peace and something else. And general acceptance of beards.
When I was a kid I used to get a lot of enforced bed-rest every time I got a cold, it triggered asthma that used to last for a couple of weeks. Before I discovered The Clash, Boomtown Rats, U2, XTC and a whole load of other credibility (spiky hair, leather jacket etc.) I still enjoyed simple pleasures. Riding my bike for fun, and jumpers for goalposts. and listening to Abba.
How was I to know that life would come full circle? For it turns out that the Mendip Rouleur family have somehow managed to acquire whooping cough. Unfortunately the only vigorous exercise I'm allowed to do, well actually capable of doing, is walking out to my car and driving to work.
I am grounded. For an unspecified indeterminate period. Never mind flying like an eagle, I can't even stumble like a partridge (Alan or Andy). In a way it may turn out to be a blessing. I haven't watched as much TV for years, and I get to watch every bit of the Brexitshambles unfolding in front of my disbelieving eyes. Lucky me.
But I have also dived deeply into YouTube, surfing from Larkin Poe to Jimmy Page, from Taylor Swift to No Doubt, and from Joe Strummer to The Dead South, and of course from Bono to Agnetha Fältskog. I still can't even grow a beard.
I'm all over politics. I'm all over work. And I'm all over music. Sort of.
But the bike, well it'll have to wait.
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