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.
![[richard uridge]](https://i0.wp.com/richarduridge.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/03/Untitled-design-1.png?fit=1000%2C1000&ssl=1)
[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.
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…
Ride for Willen 2015
Eight days, 800 miles, 45,000 feet. Last year when I cycled nearly 3,000 miles across America you asked what are you doing it for and how much money do you hope to raise and, to my shame, I had to reply just for me and nothing! Well…
The Sound of Spring
This is what Spring sounds like. Recorded at 5.20 this morning, Thursday March 20th just outside our backdoor.
The cherry tree (with apologies to Housman)
I’ve long been struck by the saw (old saying) that says a dead tree is more alive than a live one. Which is why I’d been reluctant to take the other kind of saw to the cherry at the bottom…
Hairy legs and all
To shave or not to shave, that is the question (with apologies to Wm Shakespeare’s Prince Hamlet). It was always going to happen. In all honesty I’m surprised I’ve lasted a whole year. But it’s time I came out of…
Broken wing
Butterfly wing tip Kaleidoscope fragment of A summer now past
For the journey
He wore the words like a necklace. Each silent syllable a bead. Pearl by pearl, a string of unspoken sentences. His favourite book steepled on a sunken chest. Treasure without end. I wonder now what page my mother chose. What…