While listening to Dean Martin singing “Memories are made of this” the other day, it sent me off on a wave of nostalgia, reminding me that I used to ride a mountain bike.

Family obligations of various types have meant that just about every minute I have at the moment is taken up. My wife Emily is now 36 weeks pregnant with our third child, my two daughters have a social life that Paris Hilton would kill for, which usually means they need dropping off and picking up from events over most weekends, and my poor old Mum has just come out of hospital after a second bout of brain surgery. She is on the mend, but I am spending time most evenings making sure she is OK.

This does mean that it is now so long since I properly rode my bike, that I have log on to the website to look at it’s picture just so I can remember what my bike actually looks like.

It has obviously reached crisis point, as I read Dave and Matt’s write ups of their last rather wet and muddy to trip to Bedgebury and I thought, “Lucky bastards, I wish it was me”.

What is even more alarming is that things are probably not going to get much better. With the imminent arrival of child number three my time is going to be stretched even tighter than it already is, and to top it all my current lack of riding is SERIOUSLY impinging my campaign to get my wife to agree to let me by a nice new red On One frame.

All I can say frankly is – Bollocks!

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