Barney Marsh takes the word ‘career’ literally, veering wildly across the road of his life, as thoroughly in control as a goldfish on the dashboard of a motorhome.
He’s been, with varying degrees of success, a scientist, teacher, shop assistant, binman and, for one memorable day, a hospital laundry worker. These days, he’s a dad, husband, guitarist, and writer, also with varying degrees of success. He sometimes takes photographs. Some of them are acceptable.
Occasionally he rides bikes to cast the rest of his life into sharp relief. Or just to ride through puddles. Sometimes he writes about them. Bikes, not puddles.
He is a writer of rongs, a stealer of souls and a polisher of turds.
He isn’t nearly as clever or as funny as he thinks he is.
More posts from Barney
Looks insane!
jeepers!
did he miss the big jump coz it wasn’t finished?
two words: chuffing ****ing Nora!
There are times when I think of myself as ‘a mountain biker’, clearly I’m not even close.
I’ve just spent the last 4 minutes squirming in my seat!
Just amazing skills. And huge, huge Kahuna’s.
Sweet jeezus! Hardline, they’re not kidding…!
Don’t think I’ve ever fidgeted so much watching a POV, realised I was lifting my legs up at every jump, willing him to land it!
That is not a course i would like to crash on…
ugh that line through tree stumps that switches to the left hand way along was grim, in fact, it was all sort of double size and speed! like a trail centre on acid