Since the Snowdrop

Since the Snowdrop Audax, I've done a ton of stuff, and it's been rattling my brain trying to get it all recorded in this blog post!

I've discovered that I like Rioja red wine — as much as, if not more than, Merlot. This goes especially well with lasagne and the glorious sound of Songs for a Blue Guitar by the Red House Painters. That's just one of the new pieces of vinyl I've been pleased to add to the collection.

The weather has been much better of late and has allowed me to get outdoors and cycle a few times! One adventure was a solo trip on a ride I dubbed 'Not the January Sale' last year — a road and gravel route close to home that I'd previously cycled with Phanton and the Mekon. A bit of road, plenty of towpath, and a crossing over Edstone Aqueduct, the longest in England. Just nice to be out.

Mother's Day was lovely — great spending time with my mum and the mother of my kids. Love them both very much.

SJ - the mother of my kids (and my wife)

My own mother (on her wedding day)

Not quite so lovely is my current employment. Work has been a bit of a menace lately, with a significant amount of time spent at a couple of inquests. On a brighter note, I'm looking at getting myself onto another apprenticeship (maybe) — a Level 5 in Operational Management, no less.

I've hardly run at all this year; just one or maybe two ParkRuns. However, I did add another 5k when I stayed over in Stoke whilst attending court. It felt rather unpleasant at the time, but strangely I'm feeling the urge to run again. Maybe I'll pick it back up.

Zoot and Doo

Doo

I've had some fun playing with AI (as you can see from the Mother's Day pics). Friends commented that I look like Zoot from the Muppets — really?! Rob Dog says we're all a bunch of muppets — well, he is too!

Rob Dog

Jamie

Janus

Spoon

Jonny 'the great' Mitchum

Wham, bam — then it was my birthday. I reached the grand old age of 51. Time is never time at all. It was lovely taking Ernie for a birthday walk, followed by a nice cycling bimble. I had my favourite Pepe Piri Piri for lunch with SJ and then a family carvery in the evening.

The day after my birthday turned out to be another happy, happy day. In the afternoon, SJ and I watched Project Hail Mary, which was pretty cool (though the book is always better). The morning saw me cycle a 95k jolly.

My cycle route was borrowed from Komoot, though I added an extra section to make it my own and have dubbed it 'The 2 Castles'. It's the longest I've cycled this year, and it was great to be out. Longer rides are already planned.

The route started from Studley and headed towards Shakespeare's birthplace. I cycled past the half-timbered house where Willy Shakes (1564–1616) spent much of his childhood. Stratford was relatively quiet at that hour of the morning.

Next stop was Wellesbourne Airfield. There's a café there, but I was too early for opening time — not that I'd planned to stop. I had banana, apple, and Soreen bars to munch on.

Mill Street was the next stop, a lovely cobbled historic street that led to a fine view of the first castle: Warwick Castle. Medieval and magnificent, it was developed from a wooden fort originally built by William the Conqueror in 1068.

Cycling on, the next point of interest was Kenilworth Clock Tower. A wealthy local businessman funded its construction in memory of his wife, and it was completed in 1907. It still tells the right time at least twice a day.

Kenilworth Castle was the next significant landmark — a 12th-century Norman keep, built three storeys high with walls reportedly 14 feet wide.

It wasn't particularly windy as I cycled past Berkswell Windmill, constructed in 1826 to mill flour and animal feed. It closed commercially in 1948 when the last miller passed away. In 1927, the power source was converted from wind to diesel, and it was restored between 1973 and my birth year.

The final point of interest was Henley-in-Arden train station, which was the original start/finish point of the route. With happy thoughts in my head, I cycled on towards Alcester, through Coughton, and then home.

I've continued to use Zwift on occasions (currently level 72), but now that the weather has improved, I'm keen to get outside more. At some point I really must sort out my dynamo setup and figure out whether I've got a loose port on my Garmin. I've also found my old Garmin, which appears to be working — who knows, I might soon have a dual Garmin setup!

The next real adventure is this Saturday, when I hope to cycle my first 200k in months — possibly years. The event is called the Goat, and Phanton and Jamie are signed up too.

Ooh — adventure awaits!

Of Squirrels, Pinkertons and Snowdrops

I’m thrilled to start this bloggy tale; The Squirrel Cap Mission did not fail. Level seventy-one, no less - My Zwift avatar's in furry dress!

Outdoors too, the Phantom came, On TROAD’s route (sans pouring rain!). Tudor Rose chips, a rider’s dream, with pie so hot it near did steam.

Yet outside lurked a ghastly sight—pink vomit shining in daylight bright. We pondered long what caused the hue: Milkshake? Gin? Or VK brew?

Hmm Pink Vomit (said the Pinkerton)

Next day young Moo joined the trend, pink evidence she too did send. No chips or shakes, so I infer, a secret VK Dare occurred!

Another ride, a Garmin sync, Dynamo plans to re-think. Indoors again with Phantom, my squirrel grew—now full and clear.

So raise a glass (of gin, perhaps), to cycling goals and furry caps. Through miles, mishaps, and Garmin lore, the squirrel spirit rides once more!

On a surprisingly Snowdrop morning, in the soft pre‑dawn light, The Phantom rolled up to my house, adventure feeling right. We’d ridden this audax many times, a well‑worn, treasured theme, about 120k of lanes, my eighteenth Snowdrop dream.

But halfway down the tarmac roads, my stomach gave a lurch, I’d left my helmet, shoes and kit back home upon the perch. A swift U‑turn, a laughing curse, a frantic “back we go”. Good job we remembered Carina; we were running slightly slow.

To Whitlenge tea rooms then we drove, our starting rendezvous, we rang up Meekon on the way to tell him what to do: “Order thirty‑three hot cups of tea, some sausage baps as well,” the sort of pre‑ride breakfast tale that cyclists love to tell.

At the start the gang assembled, all in various states of cheer, old companions, fresh from winters, ready for the year. There was Meekon with his niggling back that wouldn’t quite behave, and Clive the Dr, now retired, with LEJOG tales we gave.

With Clive I’d crossed from Land’s End up to John o’ Groats in ‘09’s breeze, with Dave Cross and Mr 'Odge, I did it once again in 2010 with ease. Now Dave’s a fully‑fledged sweep of chimneys, soot instead of Lycra’s sheen, but on the Snowdrop, blackened lungs or not, he rides like a machine.

Red was there with tri‑bar wisdom, calm and softly spoke, “Keep those bars super close together,” was his fitting joke. Carina rode as lone woman in our rolling, rowdy crew, strong and steady on the pedals as the countryside we flew.

Jamie joined for his first spin of this brand‑new cycling year, though miles and past adventures mean his legend’s crystal clear. His girlfriend K was out as well, but cruising t’other way, while we pushed on through lanes and hedge, a crisp late‑winter day.

Chris Hodge had travelled from the South to share our Worcestershire ride, and Michael, doctor, distance man, with stamina and pride. The Phantom, ever faithful, remained within the bunch, a menace in black, who’d later earn his well‑deserved post‑ride lunch.

Through Elmbridge lanes to Droitwich first, we traced the rolling thread, then skirted east of Worcester town where quiet hedgerows bled. To Upton upon Severn next, our first control, our pause, where cards were stamped, and legs were stretched, and tales had time to cause.

At that first stop we met Mark Rigby, stamp in steady hand, The Snowdrop’s quiet ringmaster of this wandering band. And Phil was there, with “dodgy ticker”, wary of the test, planning just a shorter loop, avoiding his old nemesis.

For there ahead lay “Phil’s Hill”, Pig Hill to some who climb, a brute of a bank that steals your breath and laughs at any time. He chose to duck that steep old slope, that spiteful little rise, while we ground up in huffing ranks beneath indifferent skies.

From Upton east we rode again, past Bredon’s gentle crown, through pretty lanes and tidy homes and villages of brown. The miles unspooled like whispered yarns the tarmac long had told, as winter sun turned hedges bright and took the bitter from the cold.

To Raphael’s by the River Avon, Evesham’s shining bend, our hungry wheels at last rolled in to meet that welcome end. We queued and ordered mountains high, enough for any feast, the calm before those later hills, a banquet to say the least.

Chris and I, in dubious wisdom, chose chilli on our chips, a fuel that burns in legs and lungs and rises from the hips. We joked that if the gradients bit and all our strength felt gone, at least we’d have enough spare gas to blow us up each climb.

Then North once more through gentle waves, past Hanbury’s softer folds, the road rose, fell, and rose again, like stories often told. We crossed above the M5’s hum, near journey’s closing page, our legs now humming, hearts content, more comfort than fatigue or rage.

Just before the finish line, with daylight holding fast, we stopped to share a cheeky half, a perfect riders’ cast. The pint was small but spirits big, the laughter loud and free, The Snowdrop’s magic in our bones, exactly where it should be.

The weather played a kindly hand, no snow, no savage rain, just middle‑winter’s fragile sun along our winding lane. An awesome day with friends and roads that never quite grow old, each year the story starts anew, yet somehow feels retold.

One absence hung about the group, a quiet, teasing sting, for Jonny Mitchum ditched his mates and never spread his wings. We’ll rib him when we see him next, with grins both sly and wide, about the Snowdrop fun he missed, the perfect seasonal ride.

Phantom and Doo decided not to tandem on this occasion

So, here’s to Phantom early starts and helmets left at home, to chilli chips and Pig Hill’s spite and where our wheels still roam. To LEJOG pals turned chimney sweeps, to backs that still feel sore, and to the Snowdrop Express next year—we’ll ride that route once more.

Spirit of Eden, Fanta Pants and Mission Squirrel Cap

I ended my last post saying I hoped to talk less about vinyl and more about adventure this time. Sorry to disappoint — there hasn’t been much happening on the adventure front. That said, SJ and I went a little stir-crazy and ended up buying a ton of vinyl.

Our latest treasure is our first ever half-speed master — Talk Talk’s Spirit of Eden — and it sounds incredible. (Half-speed master vinyl is cut with the music and cutting lathe running at half normal speed, which gives the cutting head more time to carve the grooves. This can reduce distortion and bring out extra clarity and detail, especially in the treble, which is why these pressings often sound more open and “audiophile” than standard ones). There’s something so nice about chilling out with records spinning away in our cosy lounge, log burner roaring, and just letting the music fill the space.

I think the awful weather might have spurred our vinyl spree. To date, we’ve had just one proper day of sunshine this year! I made the most of that day, heading out for a walk with the Phantom and Ernie. On another “dry-for-a-bit” day, I took Ernie on our usual route around Coughton — and to my delight, we found a fallen tree that made the perfect bridge across the river. Aces!

Ernest

The Phantom

Doo

Who knew they grew bamboo over the Studley fields?!

Bruv's by different muv's

In other news, I now have a lease car — my first ever “brand new” set of wheels (well, technically leased). It’s a Suzuki Swift like before, but this new version feels positively space-age: keyless entry, hybrid (petrol and electric), and no knobs whatsoever, just touch screens everywhere. We’ve named her Fanta Pants, thanks to her brilliant orange paintwork.

Still haven’t been camping — the weather’s been utterly pants. Rob Dog (and Linda) came to visit though, which was lovely. Moo was even more thrilled than I was, though she’s been acting a bit odd recently… I actually caught her helping my dad with the washing up. Or possibly drying.

Rod Dog and Moo

Moo and Pa

As for running, there’s been very little. Outdoors cycling, almost none. Indoor cycling, however, has been full-on! I’ve completed the Tour de Zwift 2026 challenge and was rewarded with a goofy cap for my avatar. I’m currently at level 70, which means just one more level until my avatar unlocks the coveted squirrel cap. How exciting!

Adventure awaits!