I'm at that stage

 where my mental health is taking a bit of a downturn.

So, I'm doing what I have to do to get back to me again. Obviously, that includes a lot of riding my bike - but increasingly, it seems to manifest itself in listening to albums I loved when I was 14. I'm not sure why, but I'm guessing it's a comfort blanket.

Today's slice of my youth, then - is taken from the first Riuchard Hell & The Voidoids album. Bought on a school trip to Windsor, in 1979. Sneaked away from my classmates, and somehow, found a record shop. Back then, it was almost a sixth sense: I could look at grids of roads, and predict where I should look. I guess it helped, that in those days, Record Shops were considerably more plentiful than they are now.

But, the album quickly became a part of my life, despite being the least stereotypically "punk" record in my collection. A lot of that is down to the sheer genius of Robert Quine, on guitar. Here was a guy who looked like an accountant. Balding, small glasses. Kind of dorky. The least rock and roll person imaginable. Yet every time he picked up a guitar, punk attitude dripped from every pore, and fantastically emotive screeds of brutal noise burst out, filling my head with their surges of pain, of anger, of beauty. 

Quine is unlike any other guitarist I can think of: his is a tone full of pure creativity, and it's never held back by tradition

or any other expectation. It's mind-expandingly brilliant. The sort of thing which makes my life better. And that's why my ears are full of this right now.

Yeah, THAT is what I need!

Namely, a new project. When it comes to bikes, I've always been obsessed with the idea of a build - so, the last TCR was " what would it be like to build the last great rim brake bike, ever?"

And I did it, and it was worth every twist and turn, and every moment spent sourcing parts, and agonising over choices. So, I'm going to do it all over again! This time, though, it'll be significantly cheaper. The MO is - "Can I get a disc brake winter bike, up and running for less than a grand?"

I think I'll actually be significantly under that - perhaps 600 quid. That's not counting all the bits I've already got, which is another of the central themes of this build, namely: do I have enough in the loft, in the shed? I think I do. 

The list of parts I've got, already - hanging around upstairs, or in the shed, or lying around the house:

1. A Groupset - Dura Ace 9100 crankset, Ultegra 8020 shifters, Ultegra front mech, 11-32 cassette, chain
2. Bars - a set of 3T Ergonova Pro's. They're only Alloy, but they're light, and they're 38cm.
3. Ultegra bottom bracket
4. Spare saddle - a Selle San Marco Mantra Carbon FX.
5. Wheelset - Roval Alpinist CLX1's. With Dura Ace Rotors, Vittoria Clinchers (30's) and TPU tubes.
6. Bar tape - a spare pack of Supacaz Suave.
7. Stem - an old Giant Contact SL (110mm) - I've even thrown on some titanium bolts

The parts I've had to buy:

1. A set of Caliper bolts £5
2. A new rear mech - £70
3. New headset bearings - £20

The frame - it's another TCR! But this time, an Advanced Pro. That's going to be £450. Overall, £550, plus about £50 for my mechanic to recable the groupset, and cut the steerer. 

So, I'm hoping it'll be a decent winter setup, with the added bonus of being something which could travel, too - easy to pack up and down, get in a bike box, etc. There won't be integrated cables, the seat post is easy to remove....perfect!

Plus, the bonus is that it won't be the absolute pinnacle of components. The Tarmac, and the Rim Brake TCR have had no expense spared - they're dripping in Dura Ace and everything is specced as high as it will go. That's wonderful when it comes to the riding experience, but in the unlikely event that they were lost in transit, they'd be a nightmare to replace (if that was even possible)

So, in essence, I need a daily beater, and this is what I hope I'll achieve. The build should commence in around a week. I'll keep you all posted! 

Still feeling a little lost

 A bit of a failure, if I'm honest. Less of a man. 

But, you just have to let out a huge sigh, and carry on, don't you? That's always been the way, for me. But it's tricky to shake that sense of deflation, of pain. 

I've been fighting some actual physical issues, over the last three weeks, and I think they've become intertwined with my mental state: I've always suffered from collapsed arches, and my right instep has obviously given up the ghost. It's led to some severe knee pain (I think this is caused by the foot pronation) and that nagging worry in the back of one's mind: have I knackered my knee, like I did a decade ago? that wouldn't be great, to put it lightly. 

so, I've been putting a lot of emphasis on trying to improve my posture and my walking. Some orthotic insoles, some barefoot shoes, for use around the house. So far, thankfully, it's working. not, perhaps, a silver bullet - but a definite improvement. Last week, I couldn't kneel down - that's now changed. So - baby steps.

I'm listening to things like this, whils all of the above, stews in my mind. Lee Perry always makes things better. Don't ever forget that, people. 

Everything's not lost, though

 

Because I can still get onto a bike, and ride to the top of my local hill, and stop, and get off the bike, and see this view. 

This makes everything feel better, for me. It makes me think that life's good, that it's worth living. Because what's out there, is always better than what's inside. 

It's been one of the most consistent things

 Over

the last few decades.

this sweet slice of rockers reggae. Proper Channel 1 vibes, as well. There's something very....balanced about it - sometimes, things like this can veer off into sweetness. Or they can get too militant - just too strident. But this straddles all of those disparate zones, and stays true to all of them. 

Plus, as a bonus, the video above plays the single, and the version too. That's as it should be, obviously.

Also - just checking the posts for 2025, I'm on course to have my biggest year of activity, since about 2010, which is nuts, isn't it? Ah, now - if there was only someone reading it. 

And i'm still deep into 1987.

 Of all of the songs on the playlist *points down*, this is perhaps the one which stirs most emotions in me.

It makes me think of a wave of feelings, of passions, of love and physicality. There's something pneumatic about this - but then again, what else would you really expect? This is Prince at his most obvious, his most pleading. But there's tenderness underneath the hormone rush, and that's what's always got me, most of all.

So, that's what's been in my head. And really - that's all! I've seemingly come to this odd place, where my mind has been singularly unable to fixate on much, at all. I'm feeling empty, hollowed out and more than a little useless, If I'm honest. I'm hoping it passes, and passes soon. I'll do my best to ride it out (literally and figuratively), that's my default. 

It's a colder, possibly wetter morning tomorrow, but I'm determined to head out to those lanes.

I'm all about 1987

I know it's one of those years that gets passed over, every time. the uncoolest part, of the uncoolest half, of the decade that makes a lot of people shudder. But that year means so much to me. It's a year where I was working, was learning to love life, and to be in love, too. I'd met Emma, and life really didn't get much better. It felt like everything was opening up, to me. Opportunity, chance, possibility. the future was mine, If I could just decide what to do with it, once I grabbed hold. Everything from 1987 is suffused with a glorious surge of optimism and power - a sense that I didn't quite have the answers, but I knew which questions to ask. Viva 87!  

and here's a playlist, with what the year meant to me

I'm still hammering the Bures Band album

So, who are they, I hear you ask?

Well, a bunch of young dudes from Perth, Australia, who sound as though they've been here since the Laurel Canyon days of the late 60's. But in reality, they've only been together since 2022.

 what amazes me is how accurately they can channel that sound - and yet, it never falls into the trap of feeling like it's empty nostalgia. It's simply made with love and respect. 

RIP, Clem.

Clem Burke has left us - which is obviously a tragedy, but it's another small part of my youth gone, too. I do hate getting selfish about losing people, but I can't help it. 

Blondie were a large part of my life, at the end of the '70s, and the beginning of the '80s, but I wasn't alone: they were probably the biggest pop presence in everyone's life, behind ABBA, maybe. To me, they'll always be the sound of school discos, the light in the eyes of the girls in my class, as they learned to grow and find role models and idols. They were a force of positivity and hope, but also of dreams and romance. There was a power, but a sadness too. As an example of all of these things, have some of this: still one of all-time favourite Blondie moments.

Why I ride

 

Well, basically - it's so I can see things like this. This was taken at about 8am, this morning, at the bottom of Wonham Lane, as it turns off from the Street, in Betchworth. It's the sort of bucolic image that makes me glad to be alive, and glad to be able to see it from the saddle of a bike. Glad to be inside this wonderful landscape, and glad to feel as though it's letting me in. Like I'm a part of the wondrous nature that surrounds me, in this part of the world. 

It was a breezy, bright morning - but damn, it was cold, too. I ended up back in Longs, which was slightly disappointing. I thought Spring was sufficiently here, that it would be nothing but bib shorts, from now onwards. 

Not quite!

Out with mum

 For her Birthday. Fish & Chips, at the posh place in Hatch End. A lovely day. It's been obviously hard, for Mum, since Dad passed away, and being there for her, has been a source of strength, and comfort. Pretty difficult on the roads, I have to say - sat in traffic on the M25, both ways. Over an hour and a half - ugh! Quickest I've done the journey has been around 50 minutes, so that tells you all you need to know.

It's been a lovely Sunny day here in Epsom, and I've finished it by watching Marnie swim. that's another source of pride, and a real sense of awe, for how good she really is.