Echo Chamber
His work hangs on the gallery wall. We hear its buzz. We’re in its thrall. Each piece still humming with the thrum. As strong as when the work was done. That clay was soft and took the mould Of artist’s…
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[richard uridge]
Poetry, bikes, dementia...
[richard uridge]
Poetry, bikes, dementia...
Rich Uridge
Training company boss by day. Poet and a whole heap of other things by night. Plus the son of a mother who was killed in a care home while living with dementia.
Mixing business with pleasure
Dangerous I know, mixing business with pleasure. But here’s a sneak preview of the new ACM Training cycling kit. I’ll be wearing it to promote the company at cycling events over the year and they’ll also be available to buy.…
Crosshands Cottage
Now as the dusk is drawing in Around these weathered cottage walls The birds sing out an evening hymn Their last before the darkness falls And carried on a gentle breeze Which shimmers through the grass and trees A haunting…
Paris in Springtime
ISIL I whisper je t’aime. You shout hate. I hold hands. You hack them off. The stain on my tablecloth is wine. Yours is blood. I bare my throat for a kiss. Not a knife. Strap children to my chest.…
Unheard symphony
He’d forgotten how to listen. To still his knotted mind until the sounds untangled. Untied one by one from the thrum. Listened. Registered. Identified. Appreciated. More, much more than mechanical. No eardrum beat alone. But notes in a symphony. The…
Winnie the Who?
We shall cycle on the beaches… If you like my impersonation please donate here.
U turn if you want to
From beyond the grave the Iron Lady gives a stirring performance for the Ride for Willen. If you like my impersonation please donate here.
Beaufort for Bikers
Calm. The steam from your pre-ride espresso rises vertically. Today I cycled from Aberdeen to The Lecht ski centre in the Cairngorms and back. Whichever way I pedalled the wind was slapping my face. Which got me thinking about the…
T am S y
It is, as headlines go, a little confusing, I’ll grant you that. Certainly not up there with “Freddie Starr Ate My Hamster” which has the simple virtue of telling you all you need to know without having to demean yourself…
Why fish don’t wear shirts
I should have seen it coming. The van that is. Three thousand miles across car-obsessed, gas-guzzling America without a scratch. Three hundred miles in bike-obsessed, pedal-pushing Holland and… I’d arrived in the Netherlands a few days earlier to put in some training for…