My Poppy is Red

My choice of poppy is red and will always be so, not because I'm trying to glorify war or I don't seek peace in this mad world, but out of respect to all those who laid down their lives for us to have such choices as to what colour poppy we wear. For those who wish not to remember the likes of Frederick George Covington who was literally blown to pieces on New Years Eve 1917 in mud-filled no man's land that is your right and one, he and many other Tommies gave to you.  For me, well he was not just my great uncle but he is also my hero and I wear that red flower of remembrance with pride not just for Frederick but for every man, woman and beast that has lost their lives protecting us.

   Whether we wear a poppy of red, white or any other colour I'm sure those we lost would respect our choice as they were forced to face hell in many ways to present it to us. I do and always will remember them.

The Forgotten Fens

   One thing that sadly seems to litter the fens is the huge amount of derelict cottages and farm buildings, I always wonder who lived in those little fens homes, what farm implements rested in those old outbuildings and the reasons why they now stand empty, in many cases covered in those green overcoats that only mother nature can produce.

   I must admit when you're in the middle of a long cycle covering new ground there is nothing better than stumbling across some long lost building whether made of those beautiful old Bedford White bricks or aged timbers grey and home to lichen and rusted handmade nails with square heads.

   I know there are many reasons why such buildings are still standing, some being listed, others being the home to nesting bats, owls or other wildlife and in some cases, the landowner just finding it hard to permanently delete the memories that they may hold. But whatever the reason to the likes of me they hold so much historic value like small windows through which we can look into the past when the fen tigers went about their hard lives.

   The next time you're out travelling the fens keep your eyes peeled and I'm sure you too will uncover a few forgotten gems left decaying from the old fen world, a world when great pike swam the dykes, eels occupied the reed beds and punt guns slowly crept towards the great flocks of waterfowl.

 

Bert Still Here But Not So Heavy

   I guess some of you will think the title of this post doesn't make sense but to some, it will. When I first started cycling and people asked why it was such an effort for me to cycle just a few miles, I would always answer that with my weight it was like having another guy on my back, as everyone calls me Rob yet my name is Robert I called him Bert. My aim was to get rid of Bert through diet and exercise until I was the size of one guy, not two, Rob and not Robert I guess. Well, the update is a good one, I'm now at my lightest weight for probably 20 years having lost just under 7 stone, helped by a sensible new healthy diet and a summer of cycling, on many occasions twice a day. I know to most I'm still that fat guy who cycles by each morning and still I notice those odd people who laugh as they pass by in cars but hey, every little snigger drives me on and now I'm starting to feel my old self once more.

   With the autumn months now well and truly here and winter just around the corner, I promised myself that this winter there will be no easing off on the cycling side, whatever the weather I'm still out there every day putting in the miles and apart from the snow I'll carry on doing so. My new target is to reach or break the 20 stone mark by the new year, if I break it it will be the first time I've been under 20 stone for 30 years, a great incentive if ever there was one.
   So that's the weight update done and I hope more good news in the new year. Before I sign off I would like to thank everybody who has given me support on this journey so far, I really don't think I'd have gotten this far without it, the great comments I get on the posts, the interest you show for the villages I explore and the kind words of support about my weight loss, thank you all.

Sleeping Tigers

Sleeping Tigers

Men of the reed beds who walked the marshes and dykes, great eel fishermen who sat twisting willow while telling tales of monster catches and the men of the marshes who rode the punt gun coil and netted plover. The millers who fought the great winds and controlled the waters, the skaters who raced upon frozen marshes and the carters who took fruit to the fen capital.
The women who picked the apples from ancient orchards and soft red gold from strawberry fields, the fen wives who swept the dirt floors after winter floods and the mothers who lost their sons and husbands in foreign fields.  All sleep under October sun alongside the lost children and babies who lived such short lives and left hearts broken never to repair, sleep safe and sound fen tigers, sleep safe and sound.