Doing the best that I can, at writing, running and living
It was a day that didn’t quite all go to plan. We hadn’t been to Stratford-upon-Avon in a while with one thing or another. So, we were looking forward to rocking up to our usual stay at the Premier Inn in town for a new performance of Othello at the RSC theatre. The hotel had… Continue reading Stratford-Upon-Avon: Othello
I immediately wondered if I was ingesting a gazillion microbes alongside the ancient waters pouring out of the lion’s mouth at St Ann’s Well because it was peculiarly warm. But it tasted pleasant, and I stored some in my water bottle for later hoping the reported healing properties might do a little something for my… Continue reading Buxton: Dr Louise Newson
I’m looking at the five tiny bumps in an almost neat line still just about visible across my forehead. They, and the fifteen other small bumps on my person, are the remnants of midge bites from our trip, almost all of them picked up during the marathon. The rest of the group had to deal… Continue reading Dingle Peninsula – Part Two
[I wrote this on Tuesday but the wifi was pants] On a shelf, in the house we’re staying at in Ireland, is a book called ‘I Never Knew That About The Irish’ by Christopher Winn. Millan, my nephew who flew over with his mum for a long weekend, dug it out from beneath the assorted Lee Childs… Continue reading Dingle Peninsula – Part One
It was a race of two halves. I’ve often been told that a marathon’s second half begins at twenty miles, and the second half yesterday was noticeably different from the first. I didn’t expect my hottest marathon to be in Ireland, in September. It felt even warmer than when I ran in Greece for the… Continue reading Dingle Marathon
As we jogged along the road in Cloghane, the American came out of his house with the re-cycling. He cheered us as we hailed him and continued on. It was a small village. Padraig (pronounced ‘Pohrag’) had introduced himself the night before, by the fire in O’Conner’s. His was the only table free in the… Continue reading The Night Before
I finally saw the kite on Sunday – I have decided it’s the same one that has been popping up in the sky for Angela and Anne to gawp at each day, as we always see it around five miles out from Hay. Its silhouetted shape considerately soared above the car’s right side this time… Continue reading Hay Festival – Part Three
Obviously, because we were here on a Saturday, I looked for the nearest Parkrun. ‘There’s one in Hay-on-Wye’ itself! You two can have a pootle around the town while I go run.’ Angela, our friend and instigator of this trip, did not look as excited as me, about leaving the house at 8.20am on her… Continue reading Hay Festival 2024 – Part Two
On Monday evening we managed to book a place to stay in Hay-on-Wye for a whole week next year. It was hours after we’d returned from the little town on the southeast borders of Wales, and it is a testament to the festival’s popularity that our booking was the last affordable (just about) place available… Continue reading Hay Festival 2024 – Part One
Moving moments: a gentle breeze brushes my face as my bike moves effortlessly along the back roads surrounded by the rolling farmlands of Shropshire. White cow parsley grows high along the verges and the sun beams down while the twittering of birds, and the rustling of leaves is all I hear ... I did get… Continue reading Cycling To Shrewsbury But Not Back
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