THE FUTURE'S ORANGE

ublic transport is something I’m quite passionate about. Some might say it’s in my blood. Back in the nineties, I drove buses, but it goes back even further than that. I grew up with public transport in my life; it was always there as a backdrop.

SURVIVING THE "A" BOMB

ife has a way of creating chores for us and then making it difficult to complete them. It can be hard to get stuff done when, suddenly, there’s something else that needs doing.

THE RELUCTANT SOCIALITE

reat social gatherings were once the backbone of my week. Years ago, work events were constant, brilliant, and effortless to navigate. Somewhere along the way, however, the "social rust" set in. It isn't that the desire to be social has vanished—I’m no shy-away type—but the "tribe" has to be right. There is a world of difference between sharing a table with a few trusted friends and navigating the broad, noisy sea of a workplace crowd. With the former, the guard is down; with the latter, the armour is firmly buckled.

MOTHERS: THE ARCHITECTS OF THE HEARTH

other’s Day is a sacred time, not a retail opportunity. Forget the hollow hype of the greetings card industry and the plastic tat that clutters the shelves. This day should be more than a commercial obligation; it is a moment to honour the architects of our lineage. In a world that feels increasingly chaotic, I’m looking at the women who forged the foundation I stand on. Today, I’m honouring the mothers in my life.

CHAOS IN A SMALL SPACE BY THE HEARTH FIRE

wenty-five years ago this year, we moved into our home. We were a young family with a five-year-old and another on the way. It’s a little house—three compact bedrooms that were perfectly fine for our small family at the time. Life, as it tends to do, unfolded in its own way, and today we still find ourselves in the same place. However, looking back at those twenty-five years, I realise I haven't yet shared the current makeup of our household as it stands today.

PROJECT: HIGH CONTRAST ARMOUR

s I’ve mentioned before, my "battle vest" often draws compliments and recognition, and even my everyday jacket gets its fair share of attention. The irony is that I’m frequently mistaken for a motorcyclist. I’m not; I don’t have a licence, and the act of riding a motorbike has never actually appealed to me. I’ve never understood why that rugged motorcycle aesthetic hasn't crossed over into the cycling world more often. So, what if I decided to expand that look into my own cycling outerwear?

THE DIGITAL PENCIL

rawing cartoons has been a passion of mine for as long as I can remember—transitioning over the years from doodling on scraps of paper to crafting full-scale digital creations.

JÓRVÍK: A VIKING PILGRIMAGE (Part 2)

órvík Viking Festival is an annual, week-long celebration in York, established in February 1985 following the landmark opening of the Jórvík Viking Centre the year prior. Now recognised as Europe’s largest Viking event, it has become a massive pilgrimage for living history enthusiasts, battle re-enactors, and history buffs. It’s a unique space where the academic meets the atmospheric, drawing in everyone from Viking fans to Heathens.

JÓRVÍK: A VIKING PILGRIMAGE (Part 1)

ork is a remarkable city. While my soul is generally more at home in the rural coastal wilds of Cymru, Jórvík is the one urban landscape that calls to me. Driven by a fascination with our Viking heritage, we’ve set out on what has become an annual pilgrimage to Britain’s Norse capital to immerse ourselves in the Jórvík Viking Festival.

FINDING MY FEET AGAIN

’ve been quiet for a couple of weeks because I realised I needed a bit of a reset.

BEATING THE BLUE

lue Monday was allegedly last week, falling on the third Monday of January as it does every year. It is widely said to be the most depressing day of the calendar, and while I don’t entirely subscribe to the theory, I can certainly recognise where it stems from. It’s that familiar cocktail of the post-festive slump, short daylight hours, and the long, cold stretch toward payday—though I’m fortunate enough to be paid mid-month, which spares me that particular sting.

WALES IN YELLOW: LE TOUR RETURNS

have amazing news, something I’ve been waiting for has finally dropped: the Grand Départ is returning to the UK! There is an unrivalled magic when the Tour de France crosses the Channel, and I am absolutely buzzing that the world's greatest sporting spectacle is set to grace our backyard once again. Not since that spine-tingling summer of 2014 have we seen the peloton on British roads, and the prospect of that electric atmosphere returning is nothing short of incredible.

ZERO HANGOVERS, TOLERANCE, AND SPACE

ero-percent beers have been a total game-changer recently. Being able to head to the pub or share a drink with friends without the looming dread of a hangover or the logistics of driving is brilliant. I first blogged about this back in 2018 and followed up a year later, but the landscape has shifted so much since then.

HOW TO GET A HEAD OF THE STORM

hite landscapes have dominated the national news this week, with friends in New Quay and reporters in Whitby sharing scenes of a winter kingdom; and yet, South Yorkshire has stayed resolutely clear. It feels as though the rest of the country has been blanketed in a crisp layer of frost and flake, while our little corner remains stubbornly grey. Perhaps the Pennines have acted as a giant stone shield, deflecting the drifts elsewhere and leaving us in a snowy 'shadow'.

N PLUS 1

 know, I know—everyone is likely tired of hearing about my cycling collision. But the truth is, if it weren’t for that moment back in November, I wouldn't be sitting here with a new bike. My old one is only three years old and perfectly repairable, so why the upgrade?

HAPPY NEW YEAR 2026

he year, with all its sound and fury, has settled into memory, and now we face a new one. What will 2026 bring? It feels like only yesterday we were raising a glass to the new millennium, brimming with dreams we can barely recall now.

But let's anchor ourselves back to the present: Yule is drawing to a close. Before the inevitable return to routine, I want to take a moment to share the quiet observations, the small joys, and the reflections that made up my week before looking at the year ahead.

THE MIDPOINT OF MY YULE

hile many feel the festive spirit starts to fade as soon as the Boxing Day leftovers are cleared, those who celebrate Yule know the magic is only just beginning. Far from being a fleeting moment, Yule is a season that carries us through the heart of winter, with celebrations continuing well into the New Year. As we reach the midpoint of this ancient festival, I wanted to pause and share a recap of my journey through Yule so far.

THE CAPTAIN'S ANNUAL YULETIDE MESSAGE AND AWARDS

very year, at the same time as the monarch delivers their message to the Commonwealth, I post my message to the world. This year is no different... except it is. I always write about the highs and lows of the year, but this time, I’ve decided to frame my annual review as an awards ceremony.

THE RIDE OF ODIN: MY MIDWINTER PATH

t this silent, sacred point, the deepest dark has arrived. It is the halfway point through the darkness, a sacred pause that reminds us new life is promised. Soon, the cold will yield to warmth as Cernunnos arrives to awaken the world with vibrant colour and life.

BACK PAIN, BIKE DREAMS, AND A SECRET SANTA SIGH

t’s a slow and deliberate process, but I am truly trying my best to settle back into a normal life and, to some degree, I’m succeeding. The persistent back pain, however, still accompanies me most of the time, which is incredibly annoying. I cannot wait for the day I can ditch the tiresome bus commute and get back in the saddle; my bike is calling to me.