Granite, mud and muck, the story of London's streets Rather than being paved with gold, London’s streets were until the 18th century, infamous for their mixture of mud and straw, rotting animal flesh and household rubbish. And faeces, both human and animal. In order to overcome the filth, from the late 18th century London’s parishes began using expensive granite blocks brought in from Scotland, Cornwall and Leicestershire, by the new railways.  As a rule, West London was covered in Cornish/ Devonshire granite and the North and East with blocks from Scotland and Mountsorrel in Leicestershi ..read more

   On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…….a plate of fish and chips in Margate. A man creased with age shuffles along the path and, with a sigh, sits with a thump on the bench beside me. Behind him a bunch of flowers are tied to the backrest. A card made damp with salt and sea is tied to the stems and flaps in the wind; ‘To Rory, always in our hearts, love Mum and Dad.’. The man leans forward on his stick, his root-like hands resting upon its curve and his back arched like a bow. An iridescent drip hangs from his nose and a few shiny beads of moisture pool in the c ..read more

A sculptured relief of corn (maize)    The two lions look terrified, sitting as they are on the chancel steps. Their eyes are stretched wide, their chins angled upwards, their mouths open in a silent howl of fear. Incongruously, two spider plants in pots are on their backs. There are many such buildings as this across southern Europe; a simple white stone building surrounded by trees and a little patch of grass by the south wall where one can park a car. The nave is sided by two aisles separated by square columns. The walls are unadorned save for a few primitive paintings of saints ..read more

An English Saint in the Abruzzi Between a wood and an abandoned field lies a simple rectangular church with an apse. It is several kilometres away from the village that it has served for more than 800 years, on the other side of a deep ravine. Salle, the ancient village in the Abruzzi, has long been abandoned, ruined by earthquakes and the failure of the soil to feed its people.  Mountains tower on all sides. Local legends hang like mist in the air. One such explains that a lonely and nearly broken priest walked through the open door into the church, his crozier tapping the sloping aisle ..read more

Thames Barrier with the Isle of Dogs behind.    A full ride description For the ride details and to download the route, click here Slade Green railway station is not the most glamorous of places to begin a ride, but have faith - this is a wonderful ride. From the station ride down Moat Lane and let the adventure begin. After a few metres of rutted track, you’ll pass a dilapidated farm on your left, whose yard is filled with cars in various states of ruination and rust. You’ll notice the outstanding Jacobean tithe barn and the remains of Bishop Odo’s (King William I’s half-brother) m ..read more

   A Pasta story It is nearing one o’clock and the sky throbs with the blades of a helicopter. Fillipo Antonio de Cecco’s is flying from his factory in the Abruzzi mountains to his villa for his pasta lunch. The world changes, old traditions die and new ones are born, but the Italian ritual of returning home (by foot, bike, car or helicopter) for a pasta lunch, lives on.  Pasta - a paste of hard wheat flour mixed with water and dried is just another preserved food. ‘Macaroni’ they called it, based, it’s thought, on the Greek word ‘makaria’ meaning ‘food made from barley’. Offic ..read more

   Stopping The morning was warm, the sky was a deep blue, there was no wind and summer kit could still be worn. I’d intended to ride fast around a familiar circuit, (hyper link to ride) and I was end of season fit. The day in short, was heaven-sent for bike riding. The route I knew, and had used many times before, so I rode fast overtaking cars on the descent from the town and I grinned with the thrill of it. The road stretched upwards and downwards, curved and twisted as it rolled over ridges and dived into damp, fecund valleys. That is the fun of this route (hyperlinks)- the road ..read more

Passo Lanciano The Journal  A summer-crowded beach is autumn-deserted. The Adriatic Sea splashes infant waves on a line of wet-dark sand.  An ice-cream sign squeaks in the light breeze. On one skyline the phantom merging of sea and sky, and on the other the Mother Mountain, distant and dark, formed it is said, by a goddess. There is a pass across its eastern flank - Passo Lanciano, a grade one climb. My wheels are set to ride it. I clip in and turn towards the mountains. Chest pulses with excitement. Pedals turn easily. Muscles warm under the skin. A draught of a breeze pushes my ba ..read more

The start of the Blockhaus climb, Abruzzo ‘Mennaggia nella Majella’ (Damn the Maiella) Half way down the Italian peninsula, in the mountainous region of Abruzzo, lies a massif which touches the sky. The Maiella, or the Mother Mountain as the local refer to it, is remote, capricious and beguiling, a home to bears and wolves as well as a lure for cyclists seeking adventure away from the populous slopes of the more famous Northern Alps. Occasionally the climb appears in the parcours of the Giro d’Italia, most recently in 2022. Wednesday 31 May 2022 ‘Mennaggia nella Majella’ is painted in huge wh ..read more

The spirit is transmuted into gold. One of the great beauties of cycling in the hills between the Aventino and Sangro rivers isn’t necessarily the landscape - although it is wild and beautiful throughout - nor is it the almost traffic-free roads, but it is the air which comes off the Maiella mountains and mixes with that of the nearby sea. It is wild and pure, and when blended with the whirling light which characterises this part of central Italy, it makes the blood dance in the veins. So intoxicating is this combination of light and air, that together they cast out ‘the fog and taint from the ..read more