Introduction

Welcome friends. This humble blog is about the simple observations I discover whilst cycling through lovely Wales.
I hope to offer you dear reader, cheerful reflections upon the days and miles I pedal, along with encouragement to get out and explore by bicycle yourself! Perhaps too, if I attempt a bit of amusing anecdotes along the way, I may invoke your readership as well. Thanks for stopping by... cheers, muse

Friday, 28 October 2016

55 for 55 
Beginning, again...



“First you have nothing, and then, astonishingly, after ripping out your brain and your heart and betraying your friends and ex-lovers and dreaming like a zombie over the page till you can't see or hear or smell or taste, you have something.”
T. Corragasen Boyle




He walked down the stairs, turned at the coatrack and then headed down the hall, glancing briefly in the glass case as he passed, he briskly walked into the living room and flopped into the big chair.


Sonny looked down at his feet propped on the ratty footstool.... books of all sorts sprawled out across the floor before him.


There were two volumes of Encyclopaedia Britannica; JK - L and Ts- To...


Gombrich's "History of Art"...


a collection of inexpensive nondescript history books produced for television during the 1960's and inherited from his father that provided only a small surface of information, yet contained beautiful large colour plates...


then two very expensive geography books purchased for grad school having no other purpose than showing where places used to be...


a few other printed things that simply caught his fancy, including a short history of Roman culture and a brief overview on 17th Century French philosophers...


and a towering cup of coffee.

Thursday, 27 October 2016

55 for 55 
Rabbit, Walk



“… he is unlike the other customers. They sense it too, and look at him with hard eyes, eyes like little metal studs pinned into the white faces of young men [...] In the hush his entrance creates, the excessive courtesy the weary woman behind the counter shows him amplifies his strangeness. He orders coffee quietly and studies the rim of the cup to steady the sliding in his stomach. He had thought, he had read, that from shore to shore all America was the same. He wonders, Is it just these people I’m outside or is it all America?”
― John Updike, Rabbit, Run




Sonny stood on the back porch looking through the screen door across the vacant yard.


A wide dirty stump sat in the middle of the small lot where the old oak had been.


Bits of broken flower pots and an old tin jar lid lay strewn about its base.


Once there had been a rickety table made from an disused picket fence nailed up against the tree where his grandmother had potted plants.


The hinges were pulling away from the sides of the tool shed making the door creak slowly as the wind blew.


The grass out in the field beyond was tall and brown and needed to be cut.


...


Everything smelled precisely as it always had.

Monday, 24 October 2016

55 for 55 
Tom Sawyer's Gang



"But I reckon I got to light out for the Territory ahead of the rest, because Aunt Sally she's going to adopt me and sivilize me, and I can't stand it. I been there before."
— Mark Twain, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn




Some folks just don't care nuthin' 'bout the past.


Those forgotten stories don't seem to matter much...


What happened here and why?


So many lives lost to time...


Like sagebrush left behind to show us they were here.

Thursday, 20 October 2016

55 for 55 
This Ain't No Beat Generation



"How to live seems much more crucial than why. In the wildest hipster, making a mystique of bop, drugs and the night life, there is no desire to shatter the drugs and the night life, there is no desire to shatter the "square" society in which he lives, only to elude it. To get on a soapbox or write a manifesto would seem to him absurd.... "
— John Clellon Holmes




I don't give a damn about religion, politics, current events, pop culture, television, the Internet, Facebook, Twitter, or any of that twat. In fact... Fuck That Shit.


There's the sound of my tyres rolling over the road...


and the wind blowing softly along the tree tops...


some little critter scrambles through the brush down to my left.


The only voices are in my head...


just wandering notions, in and out, here for but a moment and gone again...


That barn is just like the one we had at home...


The next two miles are all downhill...


Badgers seem cool...


I am the luckiest boy in the world.

Wednesday, 19 October 2016

55 for 55 
My Walden



"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practice resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and be able to give a true account of it in my next excursion."
— Henry David Thoreau




And so I set off on the first of March in search of my Walden. Disguising my efforts under the premise of raising money for a well-deserved charity, I must admit that my motivations were much deeper - and ashamedly, more selfish.


How do I share the world I see?


Can I find the words?


... to paint the moments,


to tell the stories...


of when was I here...



... and the content of my life.

Ads Inside Post