It is 1980, East Anglia, and American bases – with their acres and acres of Cruise missiles all pointing East – surround the boootiful medieval city of Norwich. We all know about the 4-minute-warning. So I buy my first new bicycle. It is a Falcon tourer,...
I got run over by a bus outside Rochdale police station. I was working with M6 Theatre at the time and on my way to meet with the company and drive to the school where we were performing that morning. There was a roundabout ahead and I looked behind me before...
I’m no cyclist, but I have all those early memories, that I suppose everyone has, of learning to ride and the great concern that my father, holding the saddle, might let go – which of course he did because that’s the whole point . . . At my...
I started every cycling day by singing ‘On the Road Again’ (Canned Heat) to Ivor. My bike is named after my grandson, Ivor, so he travels with me, but I tend to refer to my bike as ‘Ivor bike’. When I was cycling along and having a moment of reflection or needed a bit...
