Ode To Sunday

Ode to Sunday
Whoever said Sunday was the Lords day. Sunday is My day.
Sundays are for drinking tea and washing the hangover away. For rolling over one more time before falling out of bed. Cooked breakfasts and blurry eyes. Two morning dumps. Finally making that call “Let's go ride”.

The kettle whistles once again as waiting for your friends. Sitting in the kitchen with your helmet on, staring into space, sipping, staring, sipping, ‘knock, knock! “Let's go ride” We whistle down country lanes barely wide enough for one car let alone a van, past hedges and dry-stone walls, cows and country pubs. This is Yorkshire.

“Pies, we need Pies!” My reunion with home cannot be complete without a good old collection of pies. We continue to a place that has been ridden by some of the best in the world in years gone by, but is now left to the few who remember the way back.

One pie down as we prepare our bags and tell tales of our respective winters, one in the Dales and one in the Alps. To peddling into the wind, over the grit stone and sand, catching peddles and lunch busting. “I think I remember how to do this!”


Smashing turns and finding photos, creative jousting and back in the flow and ready for a fresh season with new eyes and adventurous ideas.

Drink Tea Ride Bikes.
Enjoy your Sundays!

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