FALKIRK - FINTRY - LENNOXTOWN - FALKIRK
50 MILES

It's become a new part of my routine that I will meet John, occaisionally, in a new location and by train before heading off on new or far away rides. It's a great habit and keeps my local rides from getting boring (an easy turn off for cycling). After bitching about the cost of the train we headed on busy, aggressive and cut up roads to Denny where everything changes as you start climbing gently up to the reservoir. It's a truly lovely start to the Highlands - Fife's white topped mountains behind, Perthshire's tall snowy peaks to the right, and Ben lomond and all the rest ahead. The day was clear and cold and a bit icey. If nicey. The old climb over the crow road back to Lennoxtown was gruelling then constant without pain followed by the lovely descent with Glasgow in the back ground, blinded by the winter sun that had taken most of the frost and light ice of the road. We had satisfying baked tatties before going our separate ways, me fighting to get back to falkirk before my off-peak ticket was invalid. The carrot and stick to any penny-pincher.

Working on a job for a leading carpet tile manufacturer just now - one of the worlds most environmentally progressive companies. I had huge reservations about the waste generated from exhibition design after a few years in the profession but experience and jobs like these keep me going. I found out at the National Museum that it's quite easy to off load waste on third parties - be it acrylic for a CDT department at a local high school or timber to a wood recycling project. It just takes a phone call. Here are carpet tiles that we print on and reuse for other exhibitions. When their life is over they are recycled into backing product for new tiles.

The bed was warm, the view poking through from the bottom of the blind still white. In long-johns and a t-shirt I stumbled between walls with a furrowed brow and scowl. As I waited for the coffee machine to heat up I squinted out the window, yawning and registered shavings of snow falling into the Garden: my snow-o-meter being the abandoned bike's saddle out the back window.

I'm desperate to get out on my bike. I had to call off Tuesday after 3 or 4 miles as the old Lanark road just became two tyre tracks in the snow. I, nor the cars, were appreciating me being there. As patient as they were. There was hope when I met another cyclist en-route to the meet point this morning, the snow not yet having had much affect. We collected 4 others at the pool as the road started to get covered and headed out. I could tell by both visibility and road condition that this would finish at the top of the hill on the way to Dalkeith. Half way there, and going straight, I met snowy tarmac and turned around with the other skinny tyred brigade - the pragmatic mountain bikers venturing on. I think it's time to buy a turbo.

It was on the news last night - reports confirmed Britain is officially 'chanking'.

Edinburgh, and Britain in general, is experiencing a cold snap which the Daily Telegraph said would "freeze the nipples off Satan". Even headlines are affected - "Water bills frozen" said the Mail yesterday. Of course the media circus is loving it, whipping up fury and pointing fingers at this week's scape goats - council workers. Reports are full of words like treacherous, battling, nightmare, arctic. And that's just the BBC. It's a media madness - News programs have actually got something to talk about that people understand, have a view on and doesn't get boring (like Israel / Iran / Afghanistan). Since communication became instant we have developed into needing immediate solutions for all life's questions - we seem to have lost the ability to understand patience and common sense. Why won't the snow just leave us alone?

It was interesting to watch a television report from Braemar, where this weather is typical in winter, and a woman joking about not having to go to the gym because she was getting such a good workout from clearing snow - her dog jumping at every shovel load flying through the air. I walked through the city centre at 1am the other night, smiling as it snowed - it was silent and the sounds were numb. By day it's been blue skies. Even at night it's bright with all the white and the full moon. I find this weather not just perfect but exhilarating. I think it's got a lot to do with nature appearing to take over and how I know, deep down, that I'd be a lot happier if that was really the case: no cars, no malls, no phones.

When I lived in Helsinki people used to have jump points at their car park space. They had snow chains. They just got on with it. It was a part of life. In winter in Japan the paraffin van servicing the neighbourhood used to play a kids tune as it went on its way merrily through the snow. There isn't central heating in Japan - they just layer up, get a bar heater and think of the Emperor. In America and on the continent people are obliged to clear their pathways.

The impression you get from the news in Britain is that we stumble out of bed getting angry that (A) it has snowed without anyone asking and we're inconvenienced and (B) no-one has righted the situation before we make it to the garden gate. Perhaps a bout of communal music, clearing our neighbours paths, buying the right equipment and generally tackling the problem head on with a smile should be part of the news as well.

Actually........