Green is gold.
The Tour de France is over people, and cycling was the winner.
I’d say more, but there’s more than enough that has been said. Maybe I’ll come back to it. Either way, it’s a very lovely evening here in Brisvegas and I’d like to introduce you to Nat. On her sweet chopper, riding around last beautiful Sunday about to leave the New Farm vicinity and take this terribly appropriate ride up a large hill.
Many things working for me here: stripes, matching and a beautiful bike smile.
I am beginning to see more beauty in Brisbane, after several months of thinking that basically no one rode here in regular clothes. Just crazed variants of dad lycra. Sorry Dad.
So it was a sight for sore eyes (literally) when on Sunday afternoon I spotted Nat. I’ve not been feeling much like approaching strangers for several months now, so it was kind of a new-old experience for me.
I’d almost forgotten how embarrassing it is folks.
I’m not sure what the next few months will bring, I feel that there are some serious challenges afoot. And someone’s going to have to start walking if they’re going to get there.
——
As an aside.
I’ve never really liked Mia Freedman. Surprisingly, this is not a result of her recent opinions on Cadel Evans. It’s more the years of seeing her byline on a range of truly perplexing magazine articles. She is my generational push me pull me. On one hand, I agree in many ways with her idea that, in Australia, sports people receive undue accolade and recognition in comparison to say, “saving lives”, “being a fireman”. And yet, I still find something inherently offensive about the way she expresses her opinions. I think I’m having Cosmo’s Body Love policy flashbacks, torn between the desire to support efforts to promote more realistic images of women in the media, and a sneaking suspicion that the Mia Freedman is a noxious feminist charlatan. Ugh. I just really don’t get into her. Sorry Mia. I’ll try to be less judgemental of you, and give you the airtime you so rightly deserve, saving lives and being a fireman.
Thatch, my very kind interwebs mentor, once said that saying mean things on the internet was a lame hobby and that he would help me with my blog so long as it’s point was not to say mean things on the internet*, but I just can’t help it. I hope never to have to read another Mia Freedman article again.
*I’m paraphrasing
eleanor j jackson 