Singletrack Magazine Issue 125 | Making Hay On Wye

Classic Ride

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Barney takes a trip to Hay, while the sun shines… Words & Photography Barney Marsh This isn’t how it usually works. If you’re a freelancer like wot I is (Barney Marsh, writer of rongs, that’s me), you usually find yourself pitching ideas like a desperate, capering gibbon to the dispassionate Singletrack suits with their blank faces and dark glasses, before one of them presses a button which either leads to a commission or (more often) a trapdoor to the metaphorical furnace room at the bottom of Singletrack Towers.  But Hannah – who essentially operates as the Metatron of Singletrack –...

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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.

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