The weather was great over the weekend wasn’t it? I got out both days on my Kona singlespeed. I have been trying to pusuade Carla that she should get one, but she is unsure. However, what she has taken to doing is – if I ride my single speed she puts her bike in a similar gear, and tries to stay with it.As we rode on Sunday, we tackled some good climbs, and she made them all easily. We were on our way home, with one tough climb to finish off. Carla said that she didn’t think she would make it to the top of this one. So, as she had done so well, and I wanted her to feel good about her ‘singlespeeding’, I climbed off as the going got tough. Carla rode straight past me and attacked the climb with great gusto! Luckily (for me) she didn’t make it all the way to the top. Serves me right for being soft!

Still a bit sore from my crash in France. I originally thought it was an accident, but I’ve changed my mind. See, the thing is that the paint on the road said ‘go right’, the gravel on the road said ‘go right’, there was a large sign on the road to the left that showed it was a ‘no through road’, but Dave still turned left. Attempted murder I now call it. He knew that it was gonna be a hard week where we’d ride and ride until one of us cracked, so he decided to take me out!

Went to France last week, took my road bike. Had some long rides around the Mont Blondes area in mind. My friend Dave came along, ‘cos Carla wasn’t really happy about me going by myself.On our second day, we set of toward Les Monts, the weather was fine, and we were keen to get some miles in our legs. We had been riding about 5 minutes along lovely country lanes when we came to a fork in the road. Dave went one way, and I went the other. As a result, we rode into each other and ended up on the floor!

We lay here on the road in agony. Two daft old sods who should have known better. A deserted road, in rural France, and we’d crashed into each other. Some 15 minutes later we were riding again, in agony, covered in blood and dirt, back the way we had come. That was the last ride I did that week.

Over the last few weeks Carla and I have ridden in Wyre Forest more than we ever have before. It’s a great place to ride, if you take the time to get to know it. We had a few duff rides at first, a few dead ends and mud fests, but after a while, and with the help of a certain Mick Arms, we started to find our way around. We’ve even started discovering some new tracks for ourselves.The great thing about Wyre Forest is the lack of cars and people. On a three hour ride on a Sunday morning we hardly see a soul, and in the depths of the forest it is so quiet that we find ourselves speaking in hushed tones so as not to disturb the tranquility.

At the moment, our usual favourite haunt Kinver is very overgrown, and very very busy. So, in the short-term it looks like Wyre is the new Kinver.

My week in France was great. Marcus and I worked hard on the jobs set for us by Mademoiselle Blanc but we still had enough time and energy to fit in a daily bike ride. There are so many quiet lanes and tracks to explore, and so much to see. It’s tough terrain, hardly any flat, but that’s good because you never know what you’ll find over the next crest, or around the next corner. One evening ride we came across eight wild boar! We know people who have lived in France for over two years, and never seen one, yet we saw eight all at once. They looked comical as they trotted off into the nearest woodland. They paused in the corner of the field to look back at us. I expect they see a lot of cyclists, in France.