In winter I tend to ride loops from home, but today rode into Leeds for the first time since autumn.
The first half was on the road - one of those rides when every light went red as I approached them, and the moment I gave up teetering on my pedals, immediately turned green.
I rode the other half by muddy towpath and arrived at the gallery in lycra by Jackson Pollock.
But it felt good, coming out of dark wet winter into the sunshine.
A kind of gift
Remembering Ken Saro-Wiwa
I had forgotten why I stopped going to gyms
Whenever I am in Leeds Art Gallery I say hello to my Grandfather, George Dearden. He is the third soldier from the left.
Today I got lost in a wood.
Small lungs shouting
I've never been in, I wasn't there, this isn't my photo, but ...
Out of kilter ...