Before I begin, I must admit that spin and I are not exactly on good terms. On our first ever encounter, I was hungover. I had ambitiously arranged a 7am date, believing I could power through on four hours of sleep. I soon discovered I was wrong. The instructor was not sympathetic. She relentlessly told…
Tag: cycling
The place I call home
Another bullet of a fly whips my cheek. Wind licks away a stream of tears, but I refuse to stop. The road recoils like a snake into the shade, trees drop treacherous twigs to catch my tyres. A chaffinch, collecting fluff for its nest, retreats as I twist through the minefield of freshly laid tarmac…
Ferns and forest 