Look to this day! For it is life, the very life of life. In its brief course lie all the varieties and realities of your existence: the bliss of growth, the glory of action, the splendor of beauty. For yesterday is already a dream and tomorrow is only a vision but today, well lived, makes every yesterday a dream of happiness and every tomorrow a vision of hope. Look well, therefore, to this day! Such is the salutation of dawn.


Forget psychedelics. Just rack off a 100 mile plus bike ride in a day and your brain starts rambling off into Never-Never Land of its own accord.

I cycled from Norwich to London last week and twelve putty-legged hours later made the final stretch.

I knew the roads I was on but struggled to recognise any landmarks or shops including my own street. Strawberry Fields Forever Mac 10.

I assume it was fatigue but it was a surreal experience and one I haven’t felt since a long solo walk across India several years ago.

The difference then was things truly were bizarre and it was a case of going with the flow or losing your marbles.

Curious memories of that trip include being propositioned for sex on some back country road (I politely declined), narrowly avoiding stepping on a snake, being attacked by a monkey and having to burn a nice plump leech off my toe. A good trip.


India is limbering up for the forthcoming Commonwealth Games in New Delhi with a bit of psychological foreplay in the shape of Mallakhamb.

The practitioners of this ancient form of gymnastic will be parading their contortionist skills during the opening ceremony.

The gravity defying gymnasts do their stuff with the aid of a vertical wooden pole or rope in some eye watering displays of strength and balance.

And none of this lot made the Indian gymnastics team? If I was a British athlete I wouldn’t bother getting on the plane.


The onerous task of naming new streets and place names usually falls with local authorities.

You see patterns emerge where planners get so fed with the name game that they go for a collective theme, such as naming a handful of roads after fish as can be found in Bow, East London.

Another set of roads in nearby Manor Park are imaginatively named First, Second, Third, Fouth, Fifth, Sixth and Seventh avenues.

Countries like India adopt a more surreal approach. The last national census in 2001 identified 638,000 villages which calls for some serious name calling.

I came across a number of bizarre place names during a three month walk across the Indian Himalaya several years ago.

These included Ascot, Slapper, Jam, Dung, Pung, Sanatorium, Zero Point and Azad Memorial Tree.

However, my heart remains with the magnificently named Herbertpur.

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