Bicycle art – Mark Twain

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Ever read Mark Twain’s account of learning to ride a bike? No? You really should. It’s hysterical. I was reminded of it when I strayed across the excellent poster by Laura Wilder. To save… Continue reading

Blood on the pavé

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3.45am Banging Euro pop. Craig’s alarm. Very effective. Leap from bed like a startled deer, assemble kit. Breakfast. 4.30am Driving through a proper pea-souper. Thank the stars for GPS. Thank the stars for… Continue reading

Today is a day to cycle

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Today is a day for rolling along coastal paths or whizzing through country lanes on the promise of a pub lunch and an afternoon nap. Today is a day for the gentle click… Continue reading

Paris-Roubaix through a Holga lens

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Crack o’dawn buses, festidious prep, feed stations, border roads and the cobbled quick step. Paris-Roubaix. A brutal ride. A painful trip. A very enjoyable time. What else would keep people glued to a… Continue reading

Abandoned Part 29

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Give us a hand mate? I’ve been dumped. All a bit of blur really.  Not sure if it was my owner, or someone else. I couldn’t see.  But I’m not happy ‘ere, that’s… Continue reading

Paris-Roubaix: Names and numbers

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Troisvilles (97.5km – 2,200 m) Viesly (104km – 1,800 m)  Quiévy (106.5km – 3,700m)  Saint-Python (111km – 1,500m)  Solesmes (119.5km – 800m)  Saulzoir (126km – 1,200m)  Verchain-Maugré (130.5km – 1,600m)  Quérénaing – Famars… Continue reading

Cityscape – short explorations

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Sometimes a day is so fresh, so invigorating, that to waste a moment is criminal. Riding in this morning, I took a detour along the Victorian alleyway of Womanby Street, Cardiff’s self styled… Continue reading

Cycle art – Two for one

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Love this poster from the Brew Urban Cafe (London).

The Cardiff Commuting Week

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Blossom in Penylan lends an Eastern feel. With sun, breezes, mild weather and cloying evening rain, it definitely feels like spring (warts ‘n all). Benign, moderate, middling, fair, equable, mild sort of day,… Continue reading

You talkin’ to me?

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You talkin’ to me? When buildings get nasty. Spotted from the saddle while my mind wandered. Cardiff.