Apologies for zero blog postings of late. Summer has been a hot one, full of surfing, cycling and generally being outside, but yesterday I did something of I was pretty stoked with and decided it would be a great time to get back in the saddle so to speak and do a blog post. So I’m sitting here, inside as it’s too hot in the garden and no swell at the beach, to write a few words. I hope you enjoy the little adventure I had recently that brought me right back to the idea of the Radius, which was always supposed to be about small adventures or exciting little projects within a chosen distance from home.

So, in the midst of a British heatwave riding a bicycle might not be the best way to spend a day. Maybe a day on the beach is what we are supposed to do, topping up the tan, lying there baking like Mad Dogs and Englishmen, waiting for 5pm when it’s acceptable to leave the heat and head home for some evening dinner, let the dog out and recap on how the day was spent, burning. If there are waves, I’m all for making day camp on the beach, as far from the masses as possible, dipping in and out of the ocean as my body heats up, and the need to cool down overwhelms me. There’s one issue, we’re going through a bit of a flat spell, surfing is not an option, the Atlantic has nothing to offer, so what to do?

​My plan was to ride my bike, in the midst of a British Heatwave, from Cove to Cove and swim at each spot, cooling down by dipping into the freshness, then ride on to the next spot and repeat. I had five locations in mind, the last being my home beach of Sennen. No wetsuit, just board shorts and a towel. My first stop was Lamorna Cove, and I arrived there at 8.30am, the water still high in the harbour. Riding down to this cove for a swim there was a sense of anticipation, ‘what will it be like?’ When I left Sennen I could feel a slight breeze that I had not really paid much attention to before leaving home.  I thought to myself that this could be a choppy swim, not the summer calm that I would like. As the harbour appeared from the narrow road I smiled out load, I gave a little ‘yeeeeewwww’ and could not get in the water fast enough. As perfection goes, this was 10/10. The water temperature was refreshing and cool. For the first swim of the day, the remainder of spots had a lot to match up to. Joined by a chap and his Dachshund who was equipped with his own Buoyancy vest, and then two walkers, I was glad I’d got in when I did. 

The trouble with swimming in Coves here in West Cornwall, they’re all the bottom of a bloody great hill, and so began climb number one, from Lamorna Cove up to the top of Castallack Farm and onto Reginnnis Hill above Mousehole. This narrow lane is a bit of an animal, a touch of the leg burner but well worth it. Dropping into Mousehole I could see that the strength of the wind and direction, but knew that my swim in the harbour would be protected from the elements, and it was, but it also confirmed that my next one, I might not be so lucky. Surrounded by the beauty of some old wooden sailing boats, the water was stunning. I swam for around 15 minutes, out in to the middle where I had a lovely chat with a local lady I’d met whilst recently working on the Methodist Chapel in the same village. 

One thing I promised myself on this little mini adventure was to treat myself to a fresh coffee, a cake, some Ice cream, and a pint and some fries when I’d completed the day. If you’re in Mousehole then the little deli ‘No.1’ is perfect. This has been my go to spot for a Pasty and cake since restorations began on the chapel in November. I Grabbed my coffee and cinnamon bun and went and sat on the bench by the harbour and watched the famous little fishing village come to life, the tourists appearing from the holiday cottages, the swimmers, the scaffolders stripping the poles from one of the Mouseholes many holiday lets and swimming in between a bit of Saturday morning work, and the tourists packing their cars ready to leave by 10am, to make way for the cleaners and the next intake. Saturday is changeover day and as I observed all the goings on I was conscious that I needed to crack on. 

Riding out of Mousehole there are three options, two bloody great hills, or along the coast to Penzance. I decided to head up a hill! I was heading to Pendeen, to Boat Cove on the opposite side of Portherris Beach. Heading from the South Coast to the North is a fair few miles and plenty of climbing.  As I rode, knowing the tide was dropping, I hoped I would arrive in time to swim in the rock pool below the Fisherman’s Mission. The climb out of Mousehole takes you up to Sheffield and from there over and along past the pet cemetery and my favourite surfboard factory Bos Surfboards, and then along to Drift, past the reservoir and up into Sancreed, down past the Old Dairy and then I went off road a bit up through Lower Botrea, and up over to the North Road. It’s a beautiful decent all the way down into Pendeen and on to the light house.  Joining the coast path here is a rocky and loose affair down to my destination and as I crashed last week on the cycle path gaining some tasty gravel rash, I took the decent cautiously.

Fully aware of the climb that would be needed to get back up from sea level, my anticipation was amping up, hoping this would be worth the effort. My first sight of the ocean found it to be pretty choppy. The North easterly was enough to whip up a little wind swell, and as I peered over to view the rock pool below, I was just in time to watch a wave surge and wash into the pool, stirring up the calmness. These pools are rock cut by miners back in the 1930’s for local communities to have a safe and sheltered swim spot. They’re tidal pools, deep and protected on a lower tide, hidden and unseen when it’s high, they're like the ultimate natural infinity pool. I watched to make sure I wouldn’t be swept out, or swirled around, being smashed against the granite, thus making the headlines for another stupid act of someone not understanding the ocean or bothering to find out about the local dangers. I’ve swam here before so I know the routine and after a few minutes I decided it was safe enough to get in. I changed, slid myself in and enjoyed a perfect ten minutes immersed in crystal clear water, with not a single person around and just the sound of the swell a few feet away. The Miners did an amazing job and many people I know are forever grateful.

The climb out of Boat Cove is pretty tough, the loose granite and gravel made for a couple of wheel spins, but it was not as bad as I’d first imagined going down.  When you get to the lighthouse it chills out a bit and the ride back to the coast road is a steady affair. My next stop was Priest Cove at Cape Cornwall, one of my favourite spots for a swim. If the tide is high (and calm seas) it’s pretty lovely swimming off the boat slip and natural harbour, but if the tide is out then I’ll always take a dip in the rock cut pool. I’ve had swims in here whilst a three to four foot swell is running down the point and I’ve just watched from the safety of this pool. The Brison Rocks just of Cape Cornwall, Sennen off to the South, the Heinz tower above and the fishing boats on the slip, this place is a favourite. However, climbing back to St Just out of the Cove is a tough one. You just need to get past the golf course which is only a few hundred yards up the hill, but it’s steep. Once the lane levels out, its plain sailing from there.  After a cooling ice cream, that I’d promised myself, I was ready to go, and onto my final swim at Sennen beach. 
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Arriving at Sennen I was just about ready for a swim, and a beer. I’m so used to swimming and surfing at Sennen, there is little I can say apart from, I live here for a reason. Such a beautiful beach, the water is always tropically clear and surprisingly warm after the past few days. After a cheeky couple of body surf waves from a bit of wind-swell, I was more than ready for a beer and a bowl of fries at Sennen Surf Lodge.  As I relaxed at the end of a perfect day I’d almost forgot I had one last climb. Out of Sennen you have two options; Cove Road or Stone Chair lane. I opted for the second and this is a beast. Maybe the toughest of the day. It’s not long but its steep, out of the saddle type of climb but it gets you half way up to the top of Cove Hill, away from traffic and buses, you can then cross over and get back on the national cycle path. 

When I got home, I’d ridden 35.7 miles with a moving time of 3 hours and 57mins. I’d climbed 3,375ft according to , and gained a couple of personal bests along the way, which was nice, but all I was interested in was the mileage and the climbing. It’s a tough ride down here In West Cornwall. Someone said to me once  that whatever you clock up in mileage counts for double that! 

My day was an epic one. I’d set a challenge and completed it with a huge smile on my face.  I’ve already realised I’d missed a couple of classic spots, but that would mean more climbing, and more time. For now I was stoked to have completed a great day out on the bike. I wasn’t hot, in fact thanks to my favourite summer riding shirt, plenty of water, a couple of flapjacks and a pace that meant I could look over the hedges most of the day,  and taking in the beauty of a summers day, and whilst the tourists grappled with car parks a beach space, I managed to find my space out on my bike. The swimming was sublime, the tides were perfect for each spot, the people I met along the way super interesting and my bike, well thats always the perfect partner. The beer was like liquid gold and the cold shower I had at home was a welcome rush of coolness.

Note: Riding a bike here in West Cornwall means you can avoid the main highways, crisscrossing through the back lanes and bridleways and that makes it safer than other places I’ve ridden. However, there are still some idiots who drive too fast and I had a couple of close calls. My advice to riding around here; on any bend please hug the hedge, don’t go drift around the corners in the middle of the lane. Of the few cars I came in contact with on this route, that were driving too fast, I believe were tourists, the local residents know better. 

My second piece in my quest to be an artist, and also part of my ‘Proclamation series’. I say that because I think that’s what artists call more than one bit of work, based around the same theme……’A Series’!

If you go back a couple of posts you’ll see a post ‘Artist or No’, and that piece ‘RIOT’ got me stoked to do more. The idea of putting words over words, and adding some bright colours would be the polar opposite of the time when they were actually written and the purpose behind them.  Not being at all political, apart from thinking that all politicians are bottom feeders, I’ve been quite intrigued by learning a bit more through this process that I have thoroughly enjoyed. 

‘RISE’ was inspired by the 1842 Chartism Proclamation, that was written under the rule of Queen Victoria, at the time of the ‘Chartism’ movement, where the working classes in the industrial centres of Britain were demanding parliamentary and economic reforms. When the demands were denied, a general strike took place forcing factories and mines to shut down. Ultimately the movement was crushed by the military, and many arrested were sent to penal colonies like Australia. Imagine,  wanting votes for every man over 21, protection from voter intimidation and equal electoral districts (fair representation based on population size). 
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Anyway, I hope you like it and below I’ve added the Proclamation that inspired this piece.
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Please add a comment, let me know what you think and if you know of any other interesting Proclamations, then please let me know

An absolutely beautiful film. Their adventures get better, the scenery forever stunning and the surfing is always inspiring. Grab an hour, sit back and enjoy. 

​It’s taken too long but finally got around to watching ‘Dirty Business’ On Channel Four. It’s life nowadays that Social Media and TV is full of so much content we flick from one pointless drama to another. But not this one and i wanted to wait until I really had time to sit and watch this one properly, not just consume it like a bag of crisps and move onto the next one.

As a surfer I should do more, a lot more. I surf and swim in the ocean whenever possible and yet don’t do anything to help, all bar the odd beach clean and ‘pick up three’ and the odd blog rant in the past. This docudrama is shocking. I moan about the water companies doing nothing and paying out fat dividends to shareholders whilst shit still flows into the ocean, and yet the Environment Agency do nothing!

When I listened to Matt Barr and Chris Hines on discussing this drama on ‘We look Sideways Podcast’, they call us out. Why don’t more surfers do more, or anything come to that? It actually made me feel quite ashamed of myself. This was me, they were talking directly to me, and I have no excuse. Maybe living in Sennen, I’m spoilt, entitled, and because we have crystal clear water here, it feel like it doesn’t affect me as much as friends up the line, maybe I’m just selfish, when I do really care. So why don’t more surfers do more? Why are we reluctant to get involved and campaign like Chris and Matt, or Hugo Tagholm from Oceana. I am 100% amongst those surfers who enjoy a cleaner ocean thanks to others campaigning and must do so much more to help make a difference and I’m not alone. Maybe through my little blog and could reach a few more people to spread the word. It’s not just us surfers and swimmers, it’s people who fish the rivers and canals like my brother and nephew Reggie Pierre, who like his dad is becoming a great match fisherman.  Maybe when I see them on Bank Holiday,  I can ask Reggie to begin thinking about this stuff now at an early age maybe he can ask his friends too. I’m going to start shouting more. Chris Hines has been shouting for some thirty plus years. Time for us to join in, time for me to join in. ​

Can I call myself an artist? I’m not sure. In the past I would never have had the audacity to call myself an ‘artist’, I still can’t, but I do a bit of art! That’s changed a little recently, I’m coming around to the notion that there might just be an artist within me.  So what’s happened? 

Imposter syndrome is very real and when it takes hold it’s difficult to shake off, so I needed to know the actual definition of an artist. According to my new friend the ‘Ai Overview’ on Google I’m pretty much there. ‘An artist is a person who creates art, such as painting drawing, sculpture, or design, typically possessing skill and creative imagination’. 

I certainly don’t draw, ( I doodle), sculpt, or design, but I’ve started painting, and I do create art in as much as I’ve taken old images, and materials and using glue and scissors, made them into something new, so collage really. Is that Art?  Do I have skill? That depends on the definition of skill. According to Ai, that says that skill is ’the ability to do something well’. I’d say regarding my art work, it depends who’s judging! You can sense here I’m still doubting myself. 

Do I have creative imagination? I’m not sure this needs a definition, but I feel like I have some. I write everyday, and that taps into my creativity, but in terms of producing ‘visual art’, I’m still trying to find out. My wife thinks I’m a ‘process artist’, meaning I enjoy the process of creating art, but the final piece is not really important. I’m not sure this is a compliment or she’s telling me my final piece is awful. I do know I have to be happy with what I’ve produced so I’m not totally convinced that labelling myself a ‘process artist’ would be accurate just yet.  My wife Jill is an artist, she meets the definition, no questions asked in every sense of the word. Trained in fine art, she has endless imagination and infinite skills.  She doesn’t just squeeze colour out of a bottle, she mixes her own, she has a vision that I sincerely lack, and best of all she’s a teacher, and that means she can teach me. Actually she has forever been encouraging me to create. She bought me a journal last year so I could start doing some collage work, we then designed a creative space, so I had my little area. She continues to buy materials that will help me,  but essentially Jill has helped me to rid myself of thinking I’m creating art for other people and now realise that we really do just create work for ourselves and no one else. This also includes my writing. I’ll put blogs posts out there and if people read it and like it, I’m very grateful and thankful, I suppose we all want people to read our work at some point, but that’s not my motivation, I just love writing and now I’m seeing art very differently too.

So here’s a few art terms  that I’m not. I’m definitely not a ‘realist’. I can’t recreate exactly what I see, like a photograph, not a chance, but I do admire people who can. I’m not an impressionist, giving you my view of what I’m seeing, but I ‘m working on that, with excursions out with Jill to do what she calls ‘studies’. If I had my way, I might describe my art as a little abstract, this genre seems right up my street. Being a little abstract, means creating art based on my emotions and visually it arguably means nothing to anyone else except me, and that suits my crippling self doubt and belief.  This has always be my enemy, and I have to be confident enough to go beyond my comfort zone and this takes time. Posting a blog, sharing it to my facebook means the audience is limited, and happy with that. Posting pictures of my art work which you can see below, well thats jumping right outside the comfort zone. Am I about to set up the name ‘Russ Pierre Artist’? Absolutely not, but I am pretty stoked with myself for completing it.

So that ramble aside what’s this ‘piece of art’ all about? Let me give you some context and explain my process. ‘Riot’ is all about words and these are taken from a ‘Riot Proclamation’.  A framed piece of public information, that my father had in his Police Station, originally written when King George was King, I’d imagine 1940-50’s and then, adapted for the reign of Queen Elizabeth, when she took over in 1952. Dad was a Police Officer from 1946-1977 and must have acquired this somewhere along that career and essentially it says ‘stop rioting and go home’. Since I was a lad, there has been some pretty heavy riots. I remember the Brixton and Toxteth riots, born out of tensions between community and the Police. The poll tax riots were in light of Margaret Thatcher introducing another tax on the working population. It seems Riots involve giving of middle finger to the establishment and go way beyond a protest and always include a good dose of anarchy. 

I have this proclamation on my wall now, I grew up seeing it every day, next to my father’s medals from WW2 and now I see it every day above my ‘creation station’ and I began really looking at the words. One day I opened up procreate, started writing the words in a lettering style that I would sign off the surf lesson certificates during my time in Lanzarote twenty five years ago. Those words then mutated into some kind of poor ‘wild style’ graffiti, inspired from my introduction to Hip Hop days back in the late 70’s early 80’s. I’ve always loved a bit of graffiti, and combined with doodles of BMX riders, motocross logos and graffiti, my school books were covered in it. This process of words then led me outside into our studio.  This space was once was a studio/workshop where Jill ran her sewing business,then it became my bike shed, then became just a shed, but is now a studio again for Jill to work. However, on this occasion I bravely moved her work, and began to throw some paint onto a bit of plywood I’d ‘rescued’ from work. 

Let me say that I have never once done a ‘ piece of art’ using brushes and paint, on anything, let alone on this scale, and its only 78cm x 78cm. I have done a tiny water colour study under the guidance of Jill at the local National Trust, and on the coast path, but never once tried anything like this. Yet again supporting the fact I am not an artist, yet; Or am I?

Going into the studio night after night and writing words with brushes and paint, instead of and IPad pen with the option of easily deleting, was a test in mark making, and a real confidence builder. Standing back like an artist to study composition, then drying the acrylic with hair dryer; turning the wood, and going again, choosing colours, drying again, and then adding more words, this process was so much fun. I liked the building up over layers and not being confined by the edge of the wood, I got to throw a bit of paint at it, add some stencils and spray, throw in the odd anarchy sign which seemed appropriate, and also a middle finger to the Riot Proclamation I suppose. My grand finale was to age it a little with sandpaper, and it was right then I began to feel like an ‘artist’. Maybe Jill was right, I do really enjoy the process, maybe I’m an artist in the process of becoming an artist.  I could definitely do this again, and I’m already thinking about what to create next and will it be based on words? As a first try, I’m stoked and I’d really appreciate  letting me know what you think.   

The finished piece, never to be repeated, and because I’m an emerging artist, is for sale at a generous £250,000 ono!

I’ve been away from here for a while. I’ve been creating using words, but just not on here, and all will be revealed when I’ve written the words to accompany the words that I’ve just completed and to be honest, I’m pretty stoked. I’ve also been on a brief writing workshop, which although designed, I think to short story writers, I came away feeling very positive with some great new exercises that I’ve been putting into practice, and thats led me down a creative rabbit hole too. 
Anyway, to keep my couple of readers amused and in this case educated, here’s another cracker from my favourite outdoorsman, Beau Miles. Grab a cuppa and enjoy, learn and maybe have a ponder. 

What does Spring mean to you? Spring, are we there yet? It must be close, I do hope so. Is it still raining? Every day. Still windy? Yep. Have we seen the sun at all? Briefly. Can it be said that seeing the sun almost feels like a sign that Spring is actually on its way. In less than a month sunset will be just shy of 7pm and that’s more than enough time to surf, go riding or spend time outside, after work doing what we love. Spring means no more waiting for the weekend to have fun. No more dark drives home from work. It means riding the bike to work, or  doing some laps up the hill when I get home. Spring means post work choices can be a welcome confusion. Tides willing I’ll head straight to the beach to grab a surf, if not ride, or maybe even mean take the dog up the hill for a really good walk, without a head torch on, trying not to sep in another dogs poop. 

Spring is a special season. The air feels warmer, the sky is brighter with the sun higher in the sky. We hope that the rain is less frequent, the wind has lost its gusto and there’s less grey in the world. Spring means the trees thicken with leaves again, the gorse flowers, yellow and bright and the giant rhubarb begins to sprout once more and yet the daffodils that have been in full flight will soon begin to retreat again, fields upon fields left unpicked, adding colour and hope to the end of a wet and stormy winter. So many cycles of life happy to see winters end. 

The excitement in the air is noticeable in the riding and surfing community. For those  ‘weekend warriors’ amongst us; those of us who don’t work from home, or been able to design our lives providing the freedom to do what you want, when you want, without sounding bitter, means our lives become less frustrating. Trying to cram our favourite activities into a weekend with limited windows of light might feel like the angst is forcing its way out of our bodies when, weather and light do not align. To combat this, night right has played a part, circuits and creativity has got me through those dark times. But now there is a bright stream of light heading our way. 

In 2026, according to Ai, March 20th means the first day of Spring in our Northern Hemisphere. Hallelujah, Hell Yeah and Yeeeewwwwwww!! Time to get the boards cleaned and a few fresh coats of Mr Zogs cool water wax, maybe order a newbie if I can decide. I’ll need to dig out the 4/3mm wetsuit, store the boots and gloves for another year and say goodbye to thick rubber. Not forgetting the bikes, they need some love too. A full service to rid the steeds of the winter salt, mud and grit, bleed the brakes, new pads and maybe put some new tyres on the big bouncy bike. We can also lose the winter riding wear, put the Roubaix layers away, the thick gloves and the neck warmers, get some shorts ready and lay out some thinner layers. It’s time to finally get the bike packing gear ready too and really plan the first adventure. Yes this will be a first, so really stoked and excited for this, but also getting the bike trailer out of the loft before procrastination takes over for another year with a special little project in mind. 
Can you tell Spring is my favourite time of the year. I’m ’frothing’ for this Spring season.  I hope you are too. Whatever you’re into, enjoy and make the most of it. Either within your Radius or beyond, make it count. 

​Self Shot Riding and some of my poetry overlayed on mixed media art I’ve been working on. I’m using the typewriter so spelling mistakes are prolific. I’m putting it out there so feel free to critique!

Business folk trust the theory that if they develop the perfect product we, the customer will stick with it for life. How many of us actually do that? From washing up liquid, chain lube on our bikes, wetsuits, surfboards, football boots, sunglasses, cameras, clothing, and even cars, many buy once and never look back? I remember showing my students a video of a supermarket owner that says he treated his customers like the £50,000 customer. He provided a limited line of the best products, the best customer services and they keep them coming back each week, every year.  If they spend £100 a week, thats £5k a year, over ten years you have a £50k customer. Create thousands of those, the rest is in the bank! It makes sense so I thought I’d write a few words about how I might not be a 50k customer, but one brand found me and I never left. I also had a bit of fun doing a collage one evening to add something to the words. 

When the  BMX boom arrived on our shores, I used to call it poor man’s Motocross.  I must have been eleven, possibly twelve years old when BMX took over my life and I got my first taste of a brand that had a impact on my life in terms of what I put on my feet. I didn’t know it then, but I would be loyal to Vans shoes to this day. 

I have this really vivid memory of my parents taking me to a little shop at Five Ways in Brighton and they bought me my first pair.  I recently asked a good friend and legendary Brighton Skater, Jock Paterson, who actually lived at Five Ways, if he remembered a skate or bike shop. He can only remember a bicycle repair shop there back in the very early 80’s, so that must have been the shop that started it all. 

The iconic Californian skate brand, born out of beach culture in 1966, with the famous waffle soul and the canvas uppers had already been around for fifteen years before I even got a pair, and a culture was built wearing these shoes. Back in the early 80’s, as far as I was concerned, if you had a pair of vans, you just felt ‘rad’. I walked out of that shop with my parents, proudly grasping my iconic Vans box, the red and white box with the logo for all to see. Inside a pair of brand new, red white and black chequered Vans, I was so stoked. As soon as I got home, they were quickly on my feet, I grabbed my my bike and went riding, jumping and generally racing around. As the years passed, my feet grew as they do and I remained loyal to that brand. The shoes worn by so many skaters including the Z-Boys of Dogtown, the famous BMX racers, BMX freestyle riders with all the multitude of colour way shoes and outfits, the 80s was a cool time to be wearing Vans. 

Inspiration to ride and race also came through the images in the magazines, the races teams like Redline, Diamond Back, Kuwahara and GT were everywhere and Hutch, Robinson, JMC and Skyway wore the red, white and blue. The matching outfits, the race pants, race jerseys, crash helmets everything looked so rad. Vans had so many colour combinations; simple plain colour way, stripes, and checks, whatever colour you can think of Vans we’re doing it. The logo also drew me in. The little tab on the side of your shoes and the red one on the heal. The little sticker you’d get with your Vans was like a perfect little gift that required time and patience when considering where to ‘stick it’, you didn’t want to waste it, you only got one.

At 56 years old I’m still wearing Vans, I’ve never stopped wearing them and I always will. Every time I open the box I still look for the sticker, but sadly they’ve take it away and as far as I know, the boxes are less iconic now, just brown and very understated. I suppose that’s ‘cost cutting’ in a world of corporate finance and profit maximisation. Vans has been through many changes, ups and downs, and near misses, but just ask those true to this great brand and they’ll tell you that when they put them on their feet, Vans are still the best.

A recent article on social media from GQ said ‘Vans were now cool again’. Excuse me?!! They were never not cool. I always bought Vans thinking they were cool, but I also bought them because I knew that they were the best for the job, racing and riding BMX. We were influenced by real athletes and in some ways I still am. The superstars of our favourite sports, not a fashion journalist that’s is matching shoes to their summer outfit. People loyal to Vans don’t buy them because GQ magazine says it’s cool to wear the brand again; a true skater, BMX rider or dirt jumper just want good shoes. Yes fashions change, styles change, and I’ve not liked every style of shoe that Vans has ever produced, but when I walked out of that shop in 1980 with my first pair, I felt like I was part of the family and since that day I’ve never left. In fact, my latest shoes are the BMX specific shoes called the ‘Peak’ and although I’m not racing BMX anymore, I’m still jumping bikes, riding pump tracks, or bike parks often in my high tops. 

I’ve owned so many styles; Authentic, Eras, style #36, #44, the #98 slip ons, high tops, mid tops, half cabs, new school, old school, pink and blue teddy bears, camouflage, stars and stripes. I’ve had newer models like the MTE1, 2 and 3 models, Tony Truillos and AV models,  chucker highs and low, I’ve even had wetsuit boots which I destroyed very quickly. Only briefly in the 90s did I dabble in any other brand? I had two pairs of Etnie’s and a couple pairs of Airwalks, but that didn’t last long. 

So why do I love Vans? I love the fact that surfers like Joel Tudor have been loyal to Vans for decades and they’ve been loyal to him. Skater Steve Caballero not only skates, but rides moto and is also mad about mountain bikes now. As an 11-year-old boy I was inspired by a brand that just got it right, they were born from the beach and ended up on the BMX tracks, the streets, the skate bowls and back to the beach. To this day my bikes are chrome and titanium, and covered in red and blue components, my little throwback to the 1980s BMX teams that always got me so inspired. Each one of those teams and each team rider all wore a pair of red or blue vans, chequered or plain. I’m not sure what it is with brand loyalty, but there’s some strength in a brand that keeps you coming back year after year, without fail. 

Vans believe in the communities too. They put back into competitions skating, BMX, surfing and snowboarding. They supported some of the coolest events and in the 90s notably the Vans Warped  Tour with the hottest US punk bands playing to thousands of young stoked kids. They’ve taken over old swimming pools and turned them into BMX parks, they brought the coolest surfing events to our screens like the Vans Triple Crown and the Vans Duct Tape, and last year a young Mountain Biker dropped into RedBull Rampage in a pair of baggy jeans and black slip-ons, there are rad people out there doing rad things wearing Vans.  

So despite what fashion magazines write or wannabe influencers put out there, I’ll wear them anyway thanks. I’m into my fifth decade of wearing Vans and I’m always waiting to find that next pair. There are thousands of people like me, but they are the true collectors who ride, skate, and surf, those deeply into the brand, and they will have their reasons too. A sponsored athlete might get a better deal, free shoes, stickers on their boards and bikes, but when the contract is up, next week be wearing another brand.  Not us, we’re ’Down for Life’ as the saying goes.

Thank you Vans and I hope you continue keeping kids stoked even if they are 56 years old. 

Yes I’ve been slack on the blog front. I’ve got things I’m writing but they seem to be taking me an age and coming home from work cold and little bit knackered is not helping. One piece though has required a tiny bit of local knowledge to get my facts straight so that’s coming this weekend. Anyway, I couldn’t leave it any longer so here’s Beau Miles again. Planting more trees on his quest to reforest and help save the planet. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, Beau Miles is pure entertainment. 

It’s been a hard couple of weeks back at work. A welcomed respite of the Christmas holidays came to an abrupt halt the day we returned to work with some hard graft. Digging, shovelling, concreting in a huge Methodist chapel, the oldest in West Cornwall in fact. The work began about a month or so before the holidays too, with the removal of forty church pews, staircases, flooring and floor joists, all attacked by dry rot, which is visibly similar to a combination of ‘War of the Worlds’ and a huge marshmallow. The result is wood that has less consistency that a chocolate flake, or cocoa powder, wood just turned to dust, eaten by an invasive weed like being. Dry rot is brutal. This has then been followed by plastering ceilings, and walls, moving from one room to another, endlessly applying a skim to board, I go to bed hearing my mate remind me to ‘keep an eye on my edges’. Just take a look now at where the wall meets the ceiling, yep that’s it, that straight clean, crisp edge, that’s because the plasterer who did that, knew how to ‘look after the edges’!

Anyway, the point of this long introductory ramble is to apologies for not posting a blog last week. It’s been a kind of ‘fall in from work and collapse couple of weeks’, not a huge amount of creativity happening, although I have got a post on the way about ‘loyalty’, and on that I’ll say no more.  I’ve not ridden my bike, but I’ve surfed a couple of times. I’ve written a poem, accompanied that by a collage, and I’ll post that when the times right, but for now, I’m sharing this. Another film by Beau Miles, by far my favourite and inspiring creator on the Toob.. This film is both an unknown  to me history lesson, and a travel adventure. Take a moment, put the kettle on and enjoy. For now, here’s Beau and thank you again.