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I have a problem with poetry. More than a niggle, more than an itch, less than an allergy. I don’t hate poetry, I feel obligated in a search for wisdom, to read the writings of these seditious people. The readings developed from the desire to...

I am officially allergic to bullsh1t marketing claims, aimed at the wealthy novice and insecure cyclists. The X Time Machine text has my head in a swirl. Same b8llox from X this morning as well. Both claiming to be the 'benchmark for time-trial bikes' ...

Last winter, we began the hunt for a base layer that performed in the cold; after our own polyester offering, we decided, was rubbish. That, and two other man-made layers I owned, left me feeling cold and clammy even after stopping at traffic lights. I...

For sure I can remember the race like it was yesterdays. We had left Armentières with a good steak and BigPlate was feeling much strength. He said over breakfast how his father had taken many German shrapnel in the fields near here during ze war. So today...

The public hold us cyclists, on a pedestal. They gasp wide-eyed at tales of the hilly hundred miler or the chain gang tapping of 120kms on Sunday morning in a pleasant three and a half hours. “You went how far!” thinks the general public with...

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