So, yes, the Sculpture Trail in the Forest of Dean, Glos, is definitely worth doing. Lots of sculptures hidden in dingly dells, on old railway lines, among the tumps of old mine workings, up trees. Continue reading “The leaning temple of Babylon”
There were three sorts of people down in the Forest at the weekend:
The Somewhat Filthy
The Moderately Filthy
The Caked Continue reading “Somewhat filthy”
Tonight, I’m going to stare into a fiery pits of a diabolically massive bonfire and get neck-ache going “oooh” and “ahhh” at some wondrous good rockets and other fireworks.
Bonfire night is one of those occasions I hate to miss. Not because I like noise – though I don’t mind it – but because of the connection with real fabulous, leaping fire, which you don’t see much these days unless you’re an ardent fire-engine follower – and the chance of seeing fireworks that are even more spectacular than last year’s. Continue reading “Pyrotechnic manoeuvres in the dark”
I got caught in a bog yesterday on the bike.
I thought it was just a bit of soft ground but it was genuine pedal-stopping, smelly bog. For a couple of seconds, I was balanced there stationary, thinking “Bugger. This hasn’t happened for years!” before gloop – one foot went deep down into the soft stuff above the ankle.
There are some things you can ride through and some things you can’t.
I haven’t encountered unrideable territory for some time. I blame the expedition leader, Bob, who was determined to go off-piste to stop me and my pal V. slacking and chatting. He was successful in that, at least.
CB’s pic of the bridge with the mud pool underneath it reminded me how things used to be in the Forest of Dean, before they constructed the cycle trails and invited the world and his wife and kids to come and cycle there. Continue reading “Mud, mud, glorious mud….”