Thursday 15 December 2011

High-resolution resolution

When, at 20, I took some scraped-together grant cash to a camera shop in Innsbruck to purchase Agfa CT18, the proprietor suggested substituting Kodachrome II (later called Kodachrome 25) for the out-of-stock Agfa. Those 36 exposures had to be eked out over several weeks, but when I eventually viewed the slides, it was as if suddenly the sunny mountain scenes taken on my Voigtländer Vitoret had leapt into 3D. So began a thirty year infatuation with the fine-grained, saturated, but slow Kodak emulsion. 

Another veil fell away with acquisition of my first SLR, a battered Pentax Spotmatic with three SMC Takumar lenses, in 1979. The sheer (for those days) vividness of the results drew me deeper into mountain photography. Fellow Wyndham Mountaineering Club photographer Bert Jenkins introduced me to publishers like Ken Wilson, Richard Gilbert and Peter Hodgkiss, who were encouraging about the technical qualities that I managed  with my Takumar lenses and Kodachrome 25, or equally fine-grained black and white film Ilford XP. Several photos were published in books and magazines, including my greatest coup: the jacket photo for Ken Wilson & Richard Gilbert's Wild Walks 

I must admit I was a mountaineer who took photographs, rather than a landscape photographer. The chief aim was to achieve mountain objectives, and only secondly (but for me always importantly) to record that attainment. Difficulty of access to the locations probably contributed as much to my modest success as artistic merit. Bert Jenkins once likened the approach to that of a war photographer, working fast and fluently in uncomfortable circumstances to bring home the images. His admired monochromes of helicopter rescues from the Wasdale fells reinforced the military parallel. To be honest, it never occurred to me to use a tripod. This was photography on the fly, intended to impress for its unusual viewpoints accessible only by sustained physical effort.

Maurienne, Ciamarella from Pointe Fracesetti, September 1990

I got away with this cavalier style thanks to usually strong lighting, static scenes (Kodachrome 25 was mostly hopeless for climbing action shots) and editors’, by today’s standards, lower expectations regarding resolution and sharpness. My guess is that even Kodachrome 25 has been overtaken by sensor resolution, which now reveals depth of field limitations once mercifully camouflaged by film grain.

My Canon DSLR is reassuringly chunky yet eminently portable, so dangerously reminiscent of my much missed Pentax Spotmatic. The temptation therefore is to carry on as before, hand-holding and snapping away merrily. But wait – inside that nouveau-Spotmatic lurks a medium-format wolf in 35mm clothing. Its high-resolution sensor cruelly exposes sloppiness. Just as in the 80s a landscape photographer wouldn’t have been seen dead hand-holding a Hasselblad, so with around 20 megapixels small apertures and rock-steady support are de rigeur. I could save lots of money with a used, lower-resolution camera, and probably should, if satisfied with shaky results from an expensive one. But, although I’ve for the time being suspended the pipe dream of earning a living from photography, there remains the allure of being at least publishable, if not published. So I have to find a way of integrating acceptable photographic technique with ingrained vagabond-explorer tendencies.

Recent conversations with Outer Hebridean and Seattle photographers David Fleet and Francis Zera  respectively, surely no strangers to complex photographic environments, focused my mind on the issue. The writing’s on the wall: they are both critical friends whose eagle eyes no hand-held shot can evade. If I must move on from a 35mm film approach to wilderness photography and regard a tripod as a permanent fixture on the underside of my camera, then it had better be slick and manoeuvrable as a whippet. My present tripod is neither, so a compromise might be to follow David’s suggestion of an update such as this.

The next task will be accurately to distinguish those exceptional moments when only hand-held will get the shot 

Sunburst, Caton Moor, Roeburndale, Lancashire, UK, 12 Dec 2011

(because there’s truly no time or place to set up the tripod) from those when not using one is an outmoded habit. 

Friday 2 December 2011

Mallowdale Pike unconquered: Walking in Roeburndale

The waters from the remote uplands at the heart of Bowland flow, usually merrily, sometimes savagely, down secluded Roeburndale to the pretty stone houses of Wray. I never tire of the classic journey from homeliness to wilderness and back. The valley lacks the blazed trails of Lakeland valleys. In Roeburndale, knowing one’s patch is as useful as the Ordnance Survey in navigating the steep woodlands and, higher up, boggy pastures.




Having at last joined up the puzzle pieces of an approach, I thought the shrinking daylight might yet permit climbing the alluring cone of Mallowdale Pike, the object most resembling a mountain hereabouts.


The final, as yet untried link was between the right of way along the private road to Mallowdale Farm and the open moor rising to the summits. I thought to follow the river bank south-eastwards from Mallowdale Bridge along the edge of the enclosed farmland for a few hundred metres until the access land opened up fully to the south-west. This narrow corridor turned out to be pathless, steep, and bracken-choked. The combined effects of this and earlier photographic dallyings led to it being nearly sunset when I reached the foot of Mallowdale Pike. With Ingleborough catching the final glow I turned my back on the elusive peaklet.


I do like a challenge, so I’ll be back – but not this way, as I’ve no wish to pioneer an outlaw path on this vulnerable river bank.

An endearing characteristic of the Forest of Bowland is its freedom from mass leisure exploitation, so I don’t complain of the need to work at solutions, rather as a climber worries away at a new rock route. And, just as in climbing, there are ethics to respect. Only rights of way and proper access links are acceptable, allowing the wild corners to remain undisturbed. I only wish the instigators of the shooting tracks that now compromise the remoteness of the tops were similarly respectful of what they will argue is their, but I believe is our, wilderness. 

Tuesday 22 November 2011

Micro-escaping

If only we could find sufficient beauty and adventure within the radius of an hour's walk or cycle ride from home, we wouldn't need to transport ourselves energy-intensively around the globe. Having returned four months ago from an Atlantic-to-Italy cycle ride that involved trains at each end, and being a European and linguist at heart, I can't claim uncompromising adherence to this ideal. However, with South Cumbria / North Lancashire as my chosen domicile, muscle power suffices to access a refreshing change of scene. That happened this afternoon, with just an hour and a half from start to finish of the micro-escape.



People power: the best publicity

As an occupational therapist I believe in lifelong learning - the idea that knowledge never stands still, so we can never rest from updating it. My new focus on older things doesn't change that underlying attitude. Hardly a day goes by without my discovering something about the design and engineering of classic bicycles. But I learn still more about running a business - a new experience for me after half a lifetime of employment. And the most exciting learning connects clearly with the person-centredness of occupational therapy: it's about how my business interacts with people. I've tried advertising in a periodical to no avail. I've increasingly used social networking, to somewhat greater effect. But the big breakthrough came when I started riding an example of my product - a red Harry Hall road bike - to places where cyclists gather.


The fascination of the tangible object and the agreeable conversations that ensued have led to worthwhile transactions and a positive presence for Proud to Ride Classic, building good will on the timeless foundation of face-to-face communication. Technology is probably indispensable, but I've learned that even buying and selling bicycles is essentially a person-centred business.

Wednesday 16 November 2011

Classic tandems, anyone?

I've had an unusual day, visiting the Fylde coast by the estuary of the River Wyre, mainly to view two tandems for possible refurbishment and resale. I want to gauge interest before committing to this relatively heavy investment, so I'm not yet in possession of them and have no photos. Anyway, my original plan to ride one of them back to base was somewhat undermined by the realisation that it lacks wheels. Nonetheless, it would be wonderful to see these two beautiful machines back on the road. So I'd really appreciate any advance expressions of interest to encourage me to take the plunge. The details are:

Tandem (1): Claud Butler 531, circa 1952, 21" + 21", short wheelbase. White, chrome ends, one professional re-enamelling with addition of cantilever bosses and braze-on front derailleur. Paint generally in good condition, but needs attention near seat bolt. Takes 650 (26") narrow-tyred (road, not off-road) wheels. TA double chainset, Campagnolo rear derailleur.

Tandem (2): Thorn, 21" + childback. No further details available, but looked in good condition behind other items.

*** Expressions of interest, please! ***

Whilst in the Fylde I also took the opportunity to savour the wide skies and pancake-flat landscape, so different from my favoured hill country, but reminiscent of my late childhood cycling forays along the dike-fringed East Friesian coast of North Germany. Here is a mini-portfoliio of the day.










Monday 14 November 2011

The art of active listening: Back Room SAM designs a new logo

Whilst investing much energy in the infrastructure for our household provisioning, I'd not forgotten Proud to Ride Classic. I commissioned Sarah Thornton of Back Room SAM to design a logo for my business, replacing my stopgap photo of a red Harry Hall racing cycle. Sarah's approach is purposeful: she listens, checks understanding, and focuses on the agreed outcomes like a greyhound racing for the finish line. This is how I like to work too, so our collaboration was efficient and harmonious. Starting from my freshly taken photograph of the iconic bike


she used her computer graphics knowledge to simplify and stylise the image according to my brief. After discussing refinements to her mock-ups, she soon presented the finished logo.

In my therapeutic and teaching work I appreciated the principles of SMART goal setting, according to which goals should be

  • Specific
  • Measurable
  • Agreed
  • Realistic
  • Time-boundaried

It's exhilarating to work with someone who instinctively applies these principles to a project. Here's the result, of which I'm very proud. Thank you, Sarah!

Saturday 12 November 2011

Home from home

It took several more sessions in the rapidly shortening days to make the shed fully 'habitable'. Not as critical as the cladding and weatherproofing, the interior fittings nonetheless posed some interesting problems as the supply of materials dwindled. Throughout the project I bought virtually nothing, always improvising with what I had to hand. As supplies were used up, more and more adaptation was necessary. Designs were modified, discarded scraps of wood retrieved from the Kelly kettle's firewood box and the darkest recesses of the toolbox scoured for suitable screw sizes. The rough-hewn economy creates a down-home atmosphere redolent of an Alpine hut or American log cabin.

Thanks to Jennifer Lauruol for the inspiration and for acquiring the shed for a new lease of life, and to Anne O'Connor for celebratory bunting.

I'm a proud craftsman, but what have I created? Hmmm.... Is it a boat? Is it a plane? Is it life, but not as we know it? What does it remind YOU of? My FAVOURITE of YOUR suggestions (comment here or anywhere these photos appear) will be shared across the Proud to Ride Classic network, with full credit to the author. Closes 23.59 (one minute to midnight) on Thursday November 17th 2011.  Good luck!


The split-windscreen VW campervan look:









Tuesday 8 November 2011

West Side Story: There's a [dry] place for us

After stripping off the rotten timber on 30th October there were two more work sessions before Good Ship Shed was deemed Irish Seaworthy. They were made fraught by the rapidly expanding hours of darkness. It was rather like (shifting from one adventure arena to another) finishing climbs at dusk: total concentration, no second chances. I learned that my eye was as accurate as the tape measure for certain cuts - and much quicker. Sometimes I couldn't see the markings on the tape measure anyway. In my previous post I preened myself on being meticulous; well it's all the more healthy for me to work at top speed sometimes. And miraculously there were no unscheduled amputations.

Now we have a sound west wall with two windows, giving further illumination to the work-top.

Here's a pictorial resumé:

Stage 1, July 15. Painted, but unimproved. Some nailed-on salvaged fencing material is but a finger in the dike.



Stage 2, September 1. Installing the first windows through the decaying original tongue and groove cladding. You'll get an inkling of its true condition if you click the image.




Stage 3, September 15. South windows in, but south and west wall tongue and groove cladding still to be replaced.



Stage 4, October 29. South wall cladding replaced with overlapping planks, worktop and shelves installed, but west wall still has original tongue-and-groove cladding:




Stage 5, November 7. West wall cladding replaced with overlapping planks, incorporating two further windows. Ready for sunset views!



There'll be some minor enhancements to the storage, and of course we'll need some net curtains to twitch.

Here's the external south west corner, which will bear the brunt of the weather:



And here's the north west corner.



Rather like Frankenstein's monster, this creation has acquired some unforeseen likenesses:

  • a guard's van (caboose) 
  • a watchtower
  • a split-windscreen VW campervan

Do feel free to comment with your own suggestions.

Shed seaworthy at last

She's not quite finished, but she's ready to slip her moorings into the wildness of a north-west English winter. And, laugh not, the weather on our plot overlooking Morecambe Bay, a wide inlet of the Irish Sea, is truly oceanic. So dry storage becomes a challenge. Without a secure, weatherproof  lock-up, running an allotment is inefficient as tools and materials have to be carried to and from the plot - literally carried, as we rejoice in being car-free. Furthermore, we don't have room for the horticultural paraphernalia back at base, where two businesses and a home co-habit, so... Grow food?- Fix shed!

I must admit I've questioned my priorities when nearly twenty bikes await refurbishment for my new business Proud to Ride Classic. If you're one of my valued suppliers or customers you've probably asked yourself the same question, as I've obsessed here about a 6ft x 4ft wooden box. You may feel I've wavered in my commitment to lightweight steel road bikes. Well, my heart tells me I haven't. Always my first impulse in the morning has been to put a neglected or dismantled bike on my workstand and transform it into a pretext for a test ride. But a look at the weather forecast, the thought of rot and leaks at our Advance Base Camp, and investment in reduced dependency on fossil fuels, have usually managed to call me to alternative duties up at the plot. It's been about doing things in the right order: once winter takes hold, shed repairs are impossible, but the bike workshop can be in full swing.

So, dear customer, supplier, supporter, friend or curious passer-by, this and similar peak oil 'resilience' projects explain Proud to Ride Classic's apparent mañana pace. The 'Proud' in my business's name reflects how I feel about it, and one of the reasons for my pride is that it signs up to ethical and ecological principles. The web site's 'About Us' page expresses the sustainability aspirations of  the company itself, whlst this blog has recently been reflecting my efforts to harmonise it with a forward-looking lifestyle. Maybe, too, whilst I'm not a qualified joiner in the way that I'm a qualified cycle mechanic, you'll have faith that I bring to the classic road bikes I'm refurbishing the same meticulous and thoughtful approach that are evidenced in my shed project.






.

Sunday 30 October 2011

Caught with a wall off

The weather forecast for the week, and thoughts of approaching winter, led us to cancel an outing and a Sunday showing of the red Harry Hall at the local cyclists' mecca Cafe d'Lune [sic] http://www.alexbarnes1653.webspace.virginmedia.com/cafe/  in favour of further work on the allotment. Ominous chinks of daylight that I'd seen through the west wall of the shed were a spur to action. Conscious that summertime was over, I rushed up to the plot while Jenni put together her usual gourmet picnic and brewed a flask of coffee.

I confirmed with the tape measure that if I incorporated two further double glazing units I had just enough fresh cladding timber to replace the decaying tongue-and-groove. Windows increased the complexity of the task, but we'd be rewarded with enhanced daylight and a westward view across Morecambe Bay, a bit like this:


Unfortunately the available glazing is only a fraction of the area of the fabulous aperture above, but we'd still get something of the effect.

With rain forecast overnight, tearing off the old timber was potentially over-committing, but I took a deep breath and did it anyway. Then we had a brief, idyllic interlude in the warm sunshine, feasting on the goat's cheese and gherkin sandwiches Jenni had made, hard boiled eggs, fruit and chocolate marzipan to go with the coffee.


Now the pressure was on to get the job finished before nightfall. Having planned out the next season's planting on paper, Jenni got on with painting the fence. Meanwhile I, designing, measuring, sawing and drilling, made rapid progress - but not quite fast enough. Darkness overtook us with everything cut to size and painted, new window frames constructed, but the cladding and windows yet to be installed. So I fashioned an emergency skin of cut-open fertilizer bags and hoped that this would be proof against the coming wind and rain - until the next promised break in the weather on Tuesday.

Saturday 29 October 2011

Things constructed and things devoured

I arrived at the allotment shed yesterday, all set to finish the shelving, to find we'd had guests. Intelligent guests. Guests with adventurous gastronomic tastes.
At first I disregarded the fallen soap box. My careless stowing, I thought. Nor did I at first notice the neat hole in a cardboard oatcakes pack. Until I removed one of the internal cellophane wrapped sachets and observed the obsessively precise bisection of all seven oatcakes, rendered as seven perfect semi-circles. No crumbs, no ragged edges - just perfectly aligned diametric trims. Not quite so clinically tidy were the dry black faeces scattered nearby, which finally persuaded me that we'd been entertaining little visitors.
Then I returned to the soap. Evidently our gourmet guests had scorned dry oatcakes, and applied much ingenuity to secure a topping. Hence the soap box knocked to the floor to remove the lid. The toothmarks on the bar indicated healthy appetites and appreciative chomping.


Whether there were any upset rodent tummies after this unconventional feast is unclear, but we shall have to monitor soap consumption from now on.

It was peaceful constructing the shelves, undistracted by mice or men.


When I could no longer see where to put the screws for the towel rail, I knew it was time to head home.

Friday 28 October 2011

A dry day

It's been an inclement autumn aside from the extraordinary heatwave at the beginning of October, which was enjoyable if eerily indicative of climate change. Alongside the start-up of  http://www.proudtorideclassic.co.uk/ I've had the project (trivial at first glance, until one considers the implications of not doing so) of making our pre-owned allotment shed proof against the weather assailing it on our exposed plot above the Irish Sea, where horizontal rain dictates the incorporation of boat-building techniques! The idea is to supplement business income with cash-saving food, and even in our first eight months on the plot we've reduced our grocery bill. As food prices go up in line with fuel, the labour invested should pay us back - even if it doesn't show directly in my book-keeping. So with this thought in mind, I overcome the urge to finish my first couple of bikes, as these can be done tomorrow, a wet Saturday, and use this rare dry interlude to finish the shed. After all, I had a magnificent 27-mile trek last Monday, when until self-employment I'd have been at work. I was walking too much to take many photographs, but the few I made are at http://www.flickr.com/photos/16609214@N05/sets/72157627986083752/

Thursday 27 October 2011

Blog back on the road!

Where did the summer go? The logistics and time demands of the Milestones Ride across France, for all its richness and ultimate success, wrought havoc with my blogging plans. On our return, Proud to Ride Classic and various commitments and projects vied for attention. I managed to keep up a flow of photos to Flickr, to gather almost 300 valued followers on Twitter and to make many contacts among  cycling enthusiasts, so in the unlikely event that anyone set about writing my biography, there would at least be a breadcrumb trail. This blog, however, drifted into Cinderella-like neglect.
Now,  a series of sessions with www.backroomsam.co.uk has proved one of the best investments Proud to Ride Classic could make. Sarah Thornton has brought receptiveness, expertise and drive to growing the  administrative and networking tools of my business. You may well be reading this directly as a result of one her many enhancements. Entries here will be notified across the social media, so I can maximize my energy in keeping you, my customers, suppliers, well-wishers, supporters and friends, updated as the Proud to Ride Classic story unfolds. I'm excited about the journey, and about the encounters it will bring with cyclists and with the craftsmanship of fine bikes.

Monday 30 May 2011

Eve of departure

Tomorrow will probably be an increasing panic, so I'll post now just to check in. Today has been a round of last-minute jobs, especially at the allotment, where rabbits were flavour of the month - or would have been, had they not been still running around large as life, brazenly eating people's onions, cabbages and peas. Frustrating as this is, we'll have to find a way of co-existing. However, a rabbit-proof fence wasn't quite achievable today. So we'll just have to hope they leave us something for our return.
We had friends round for a meal, which probably sounds impossibly smug and well-organised - except I confess we invited them on condition they cooked for us. You know who your real friends are when you can make such an outrageous proposal!
Now it's early to bed (well, it isn't quite midnight) and early to rise, as there's still a scary amount to do before our departure for London at 7 pm tomorrow.

Sunday 29 May 2011

Another fine packing avoidance strategy

If you're returning to my blog, you'll see it's been redesigned. A simple statement behind which lies stress and frustration that, actually, many people on the planet would gladly exchange for their everyday  experience. Nonetheless, could I have a moment's tunnel-view offload about my trials and tribulations with Blogger design templates? ...
Thank you, that already feels better. Especially if you agree the result is easier on the eye. My first attempt really wasn't very good from a layout point of view. I hope the new, narrower layout is as reader friendly on your monitor as it appears to be on mine. Your comments and feedback would be most welcome. I think you have to have a Google account to be able to comment, but registering really isn't very onerous, if you haven't already done so.
Time to tackle another fiddly, but gratifyingly physical task: attaching a new Blackburn rack to my Dawes Audax.
As things progress, we'll post photos to the France / Milestones Ride folder at http://www.flickr.com/photos/16609214@N05/, which can also be accessed from 'Links' to the left of the screen.

Saturday 28 May 2011

No wheels on my wagon (yet)

It would be nice to see two gleaming bikes with two orderly sets of luggage laid out near them, demonstrating progress with all the physical preparations, and decks beginning to clear for our departure. In fact, the table where I'm writing is still cluttered with the detritus of incomplete chores, the bikes are still untouched, and we haven't even done the gardening and allotment tasks that will enable these modest plots to prosper in our absence.
Not that we've been watching football or anything. No, Barcelona and Manchester have had to get by without us. To be honest, they always do. Instead I've been drawn, quite eagerly, into the role of communications officer for the expedition. All right, that's a bit grandiose, but the fundraising aspect of the ride, coupled with a plunge into social media Twitter and Facebook (not to mention this blog), have generated new projects undreamt of as little as fifteen years ago. Where once there was a private holiday, there is now public commitment to an 'expedition', complete with media statements, photographic and written reportage, and the expectations of an elusive but real audience. If I ever wondered what it would really be like to be Chris Bonington setting out for Everest Base Camp with his South West Face expedition, the eyes of the world upon him, this gives an inkling of what it must have felt like. Maybe I delude myself so as to live out a youthful fantasy. However, just as nowadays we can all be front-line reporters, so we can all be expedition leaders if we care to throw ourselves upon the mercy of the social media communities. And I must say, I've found them as friendly and supportive a bunch as one could hope to meet.
My Twitter username: @proudride
Jennifer's Twitter username: @carpediemgarden
Milestones Ride Facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Milestones-Ride-2011/164750010251049
Photos: http://www.flickr.com/photos/16609214@N05/ in batches at intervals, when we have a spell at a wireless hotspot. Uploading photos might necessitate multiple coffees ;-). They will appear in the main photostream in reverse chronological order (newest first) and will also be organised into the collection folder on the right of the screen called 'France', within a set called 'Milestones Ride'.

Friday 27 May 2011

Micro-packing

I've spent many hours today 'micro-packing': organising the physically small but critical items without which a whole category of luggage can become useless ballast. For example, stove, fuel and pans are useless unless you have a source of fire, and this in itself useless unless kept dry or otherwise reliably functioning. It all requires a certain fussiness which mercifully abates as soon as one pedals away. Though I rarely avoid at least one urgent bit of shopping at the start of a ride for some small item that in spite of everything I've omitted.
Today's micro-packing was of photographic equipment. If gear-talk makes you glaze over, then read no further, and I promise to raise my eyes from the hardware in my next post. But for now please let me indulge my preoccupation with the tools of photography.
I make a rule that everything will be carried round my waist, this year for the first time in a Kata beltpack. A rucksack is out of the question for prolonged cycling, especially in hot weather, and I've never been happy to subject camera gear to the vibrations and jolting of bags attached to the bike. So, for security and accessibility, I will literally be joined at the waist to this cargo for a month: on the bike, round cafes and shops, in the loo, even hanging it from shower hooks and partitions. It mustn't be too heavy or bulky. Yet I want SLR picture quality, and to cover the most useful focal lengths. I also want some redundancy in case of equipment failure.Two camera bodies provide this, can reduce lens swapping, and allow me to lend a camera and lens to Jenni when she occasionally feels the photographic spirit stir. I've upgraded my cameras, so more weight there, leaving little over for an arsenal of lenses. Here's this year's solution with approximate weights:

  • 1 x full frame body (900g)
  • 1 x crop sensor body (1.6 x focal length multiplier) (800g)
  • 1 x 24mm-105mm zoom (becomes 38mm -168mm equivalent on crop sensor) (700g)
  • 1 x 35mm f2 prime lens (becomes 56mm equivalent on crop sensor) (200g)

This would allow either body AND either lens to fail without creating a gross imbalance: there would always be something close to a standard lens. However if, as I hope, everything remains in order, the range is from 24mm to 168mm equivalent. Both lenses manage 1:4 reproduction at closest focus, which gives passable close-up ability on the crop frame body. What I'll probably do is have the 24-104 on the crop frame body when on the road, as I find less use for really wide angle there, but often want to exclude foreground detail or compress perspective. At other times, it will migrate to the full-frame body, because in general photography I love the control over composition and the drama of a wide angle. The 35mm will act as a body cap most of the time (and not be much heavier!), but makes a useful reserve lens, as well as having its own virtues of being fast (two extra stops) and unobtrusive.
Having chosen the core of the system, it remained to ensure batteries, cards, leads, card reader, lens caps and so on were all present and correct. I have still to finalise file storage, given we're away for a month. I'm taking my laptop, but require a second storage device, unless I buy lots more cards and set them aside once full.

Thursday 26 May 2011

Welcome!

Thank you for coming to view my blog. Though I'm familiar enough with presenting myself online in various modes - email, Flickr, virtual learning environments in teaching, and most recently Twitter, this is my first venture into a proper blogger's blog. Maybe it's a step too far in terms of time management. Then again, it's high time!
I don't know exactly where this blog is going. Given my untidily diverse interests, it could swerve off in any direction. But, commencer, c'est tout! There might be some pauses, but maybe you'll be kind enough to revisit this narrative over the coming days. I hope I'll manage at least outline updates on the cycle journey my wife Jenni and I are undertaking from next Tuesday - what we've dubbed the 'Milestones Ride' - crossing France from the Atlantic to Italy. For more details, see  http://www.facebook.com/pages/Milestones-Ride-2011/164750010251049