Yes, that’s right. Cycling. ‘Motorcycling’ but minus the motor part, which some would characterize as rather important... As I cycled, motorless, into work this morning I noticed three things. One, when I stop I put my left foot down. Stretched, on tippy toes, I keep the bicycle as upright as possible. Catching a glance of this in a shop window it looked quite ridiculous really. The habit of stretched-left-leg-right-foot-on-brake that I have picked up since riding the DR dies hard, ...
I love bushwalks. The feeling of being outdoors, under the trees, part of nature. The views from the top of each peak that make the climb so worth it. The sense of achievement after a long day’s walk. Stephen, however, sees things differently. For him the only difference between a cracker ride and a cracker bushwalk is the level of pain in his legs after the latter. In some respects I understand this viewpoint. Yes, riding a bike you do get very close to the contours of the land, particularly on ...
My sister bought a Tardis just before Christmas. Full size, complete with flashing blue light on top. She plans to place it outside the door to our house, so the illusion of smallness may be contradicted by the expanses behind. Mum secretly hopes it will work to revert the forces of entropy that always seem to infiltrate our bedrooms. She will go on hoping. To be perfectly honest, I don’t think Stephen and I need a Tardis. We seem to be followed around by a permanent vortex of watch-warpingness ...
Spain (bit belated, but getting there!) Spain starts in Germany with skinned knees and a bag of early morning pretzels for the road. I spent my last night in Freiburg at my friend Kira’s place and rose before 5am. This early hour coupled with the excitement of bus-tram-bus-plane-train that was to come were so overwhelming that the first thing I did was fall flat on my face in the middle of the street. Turns out that taking a tramping pack and backpack perhaps wasn’t the best move ...
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