Dirt Biking with a Pillion?

This kid has no choice, it’ll ride!

It’s officially spring in New Zealand, which means daylight savings and more riding. We can look forward to a long summer of trails and good times.

Well, all of us who didn’t get pregnant in the last 4 months can…

Yep. I have a pillion on board for the next 5 1/2 months which is going to make life very interesting! Lucky for me I have the most laid back and practical Doctor I have ever experienced. I quote “Pregnancy is a not a disease, you do not have a debilitating condition. You do have to be more careful and aware of a lot of things, but life does not need to end because you are pregnant.”

I love him.

No, seriously, the man said I can snowboard and ride for as long as I personally feel safe and comfortable doing so, just no racing or jumping. Which basically means I need to get in as much riding as possible now before the “bump” gets so big it throws my balance off or I can’t reach the handlebars. Which is highly likely. And highly frightening.

The husband and I have discussed it and we’re going to take each ride as it comes, stick to events we’ve done before. I’m particularly keen to stick to either events run by our local club or ones where my Mum comes too. I don’t want to spoil anyone else’s ride by selfishly refusing to hang my helmet up yet, but I’m also conscious of the fact that hauling my 90+kg bike out of a rut is perhaps not the smartest thing to do just now. My Mum and the club boys have already said they’ll keep an eye on me so that frees up the Husband to keep riding at his own pace as usual and we can all have fun.

Equally good timing is my Mum is a few weeks away from getting a new bike (KTM Freeride – jealous much!) so she’ll be slowing down a little too while she familiarises herself with that.

So far so good. I had to miss the race I have been working towards since I started this whole bike thing, but it’s annual and shows no sign of stopping anytime soon, so there’s always next year. The kid is due 5 months before the race so there’s an incentive to get back in shape!

The hardest thing will be making myself slow down. I’ve been getting progressively faster and I love it. Have to remember I’m riding for two now 🙂

PS. I will do my best to continue to keep this a biking blog, but realistically there’s going to be several months with no riding and lots of baby. Please bare with me!

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Just Like Riding A… Well… Bike!

Finally, after months of rain on every riding Sunday, we got out to the forest.

It rained heavily on Saturday and I was developing a serious case of can’t be bothered, compounded by my parents going out for dinner that night, which meant we wouldn’t get our pre ride catch up and would have to get up early on Sunday to travel to their house and load the bikes.

The only saving grace is that we had to get up so early that it was still dark and we couldn’t tell what the weather was doing!

Just as well, cause it was misty and rainy as we headed West. Even the Husband was having second thoughts, despite claiming all week that he was going even if there was a hurricane! I don’t mind being cold, I don’t mind being wet. I do however loathe being cold and wet at the same time!

Ah what a load of whinging!

By the time the Husband loaded up (I was inside warming my hands on a cup of tea and making bacon sandwiches for breakfast) the sky was beginning to clear and things were looking up.

We got to the ride, signed on as some light drizzle was falling and headed out on the trail.

By the end of our first lap I was smiling so broadly I copped a mouthful of sand from a passing 2 stroke! I remembered how much fun I have and how much I love this sport! I felt alive, strong and focused, watching out for stumps, selecting the right (or wrong!) gear and trying to get my weight right around the corners.

It’s funny how much has become instinct now and how much I still have to think about. I understand the sounds my bike makes and know when I should be changing gear based on what’s coming up ahead. I don’t always get it right, but at least now I know straight away what I’ve done wrong and can sometimes rapidly change down before I stall halfway up a hill.

One thing I can’t seem to get my head around is how to distribute my weight around corners. Conversely I have become a master at counter balancing as the front wheel washes out and I have to haul the bike upright before I torpedo over th bars! However I forget where my weight was by the next corner and it usually happens again.

Ah well, still room for improvement!

The same could be said for my Army inspired cupcakes. Shows promise, room for improvement!

It’s a drinking canteen, in case you can’t tell.

 

Surely you can tell this is a tank (even if it won’t rotate properly, it’s fine on my PC darn it!)

Keep it simple, gold stars!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Quick Update – Bike Porn!

It’s winter so not much riding going on. Plus the husband and I have bought a house, moved in, starting trying for babies and I’ve started an online campagin to get the ladies Tadpole race re-instated as ladies only. Fingers crossed!

So I’ve been busy, but not really on the bike front. I’m trying to keep this blog purely riding related, but that does make for sporadic posting and what the hell do I do if I do get pregnant and there goes riding for the best part of a year? Hmmm. Well considering I think about 3 people actually read this it’s probably not a big deal if it morphs into something else. I will however do my level best to ensure it doesn’t become a blog that could take pride of place on STFU Parents. I’m definitely more of an Offbeat Mama type of girl.

Trying to convice the Husband that if/when we require a baby’s room it should be painted with various Marvel superheros, Lord of The Rings scenes and have framed Rolling Stones lyrics, Star Wars prints and Harry Potter quotes. We’ll see.

However, back to matters in reality, my birthday present finally arrived, a month late, but hey, it drags the fun out!

Custom Graphics oooooooh:

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And to christen the new house of course I made cupcakes!

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Someone Squashed My Toad (well, tadpole really)

Someone took my candy

Gutted. That particularly New Zealand expression really seems to sum up how disappointed I am.

Since I started this whole dirtbiking thing, I’ve had a very quiet goal in the back of my mind. It’s grown to become more of a likely reality and even been watered with a dash of competitiveness.

But now, someone’s burst my bubble, rained on my parade, pooped on my lawn, whatever you want to call it.

The women’s race I was planning to be my first, is now being run in with the men. Crap. One small step for the sisterhood, one giant fail for me.

The Dead Toad is NZ’s longest running hare scramble. It’s held in the forest I grew up with and it’s always held mythical status for me. I’ve been “pit bitch” for my Dad since I was strong enough to hold a gas can and was off playing in the forest while Mum did the honours before that. I coveted the ceramic Toad trophies given to all finishers and in time helped my brother when he raced. In fact this was the first race I went to when I came back from my time overseas, I witnessed my brother win this 3 hour race 20 minutes ahead of the second place getter and overheard people talking about how brilliant he is.

My Mum has even completed the Toad. One of few women to do so at that time.

Eventually the organisers recognised the demand for a junior/kids race and set up The Dead Tadpole (for the little Toads!) which ran the day before the Toad, which difference races for various age groups and hallelujah put a womens race in at the end of the day.

It was brilliant to watch and I loved being part of it, pit bitching for my Mum was part of what inspired me to give this bike thing a go.

The Tadpole has been a Saturday event for a few years now and still is. However the club has decided to run the women in with the men on Sunday this year.

The men race 3 hours, the women 2, but we’ll be out on the track together. When my Dad broke the news to my Mum and I we both looked at each other and said in unison “I’m not riding”.

I know a lot of the guys who will be racing, I know how tough and fast they are. I also know how annoyed and frustrated they will be if they’re constantly getting caught up behind me. The ones I know well will be patient, the ones I don’t know will just ride straight through me (and Mum).

There are about 4 women who race in with men often. They’re fast and inspiring and very cool chicks. I would have been in their way too, but its way easier to move aside for 4 people and let them pass, then to spend the whole race getting knocked around and diving off the track for the 30 odd people who would be gunning past me now.

It’s a recipe for a total lack of fun and 95% certainty of injury.

I was excited, the Husband and my Dad had both said my speed was getting up to a point where I could happily go in the race. No way in hell would I be in the front, my only goal (quietly to myself) was to see if I could beat my Mum. It was meant to be a fun day out and to push myself to ride faster than I usually do. The strategy was to let the fast girls speed off the line then do my best to catch up (yeah right) and enjoy the day.

Not gonna happen now and I am actually pretty disappointed.

The Toad/Tadpole was the one race where women were against women on a track by themselves. All other races that I know off are just prizes for the first, second and third women home off a track all in with guys. I know I’m not ready for that yet. I don’t want to get hurt and I also don’t want to spoil someone else’s race with them being stuck behind a noob.

So looks like I’ll be back to pit bitching, this time for the husband. I hope he has a good ride.

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Conquering the Demons (aka letting go of the brakes!)

Some athletes have lucky socks. Some put their gear on a certain way. Me, I’m not an athlete, but I’m starting to think I have my own pre-ride superstitions. If my Mom’s there, I have a great ride.

Yep. 30 years old and I still need my momma. I’m 100% fine with that.

Yesterday was fantastic. I had (and still have) a nasty headcold that had followed hot on the heels of a nasty gastrobug that still left me weak, and wary of spicy food, but I refused to be left at home. There’s no riding for a few weeks now so I can recover, have to play when the opportunity arises! The only downside was the rear shock had blown it’s seals so the husband was pretty sad. My Dad very sweetly offered for them to take turns on Dad’s bike, so they both got to ride. Some consolation.

I on the other hand, (I can make it all about me, it’s MY blog!) had a fantastic ride. We did a quick loop of the Junior/Intermediate track with the Husband and I felt happy and at home on my bike. Knowing that Mum is right behind me makes me think more about my riding, I pick my lines and pay attention. I have a habit of daydreaming! Plus it makes me keep my speed up and push a little harder as I don’t want to slow her down.

The Husband was being cautious and careful with Dad’s bike (very sensible!) but even still he said he was surprised with how close behind him I was, he even said I was riding the F word (yes, Fast! Woohoo!).

Dad offered to take us out on the Intermediate/Advanced route when we got back. I had initially planned to be sensible and take it easy but screw that, I was having fun!

The trail was brilliant. Some really tight and twisty sections, long tree rooted hill climbs and easy flowing trails with hidden stumps and roots to keep you awake! I loved it. The only bit I struggled with was one section where I just got bogged in the deep sand, the little wheel curse struck again. But otherwise I could not stop grinning! I was attacking uphills and picking lines past people stuck and struggling. Good old Dad was waiting to help us but ending up making a lot of new friends as he pushed and pulled people over roots and out of ruts.

But the biggest reason I was smiling? TAKE THAT SCARY SANDY DOWNHILLS! Yep, I toughened up, faced the fear and backed the hell off the brakes. I wasn’t so much talking to myself as screaming “Let Go Let Go Let Go!”” at every downhill, forcing myself to look ahead, pick my run off escape route and break as little as possible, in fact not at all in some cases. It was amazing. I kept telling myself I couldn’t hold Mum up and that braking and going slow makes it harder (which is true), anything I could think off including cursing at myself to get my foot and hand off the brakes and keep my speed up.

I really felt like I’d taken a huge step forward and was attacking everything with more speed and confidence than before. I am fully aware that pride comes before a fall, it’s only a matter of time before I hit a tree and slow down again, but at the moment I’m loving this feeling and loving the time I am spending with my family.

Bring on the next ride!

Ok, the hill wasn’t this big, but I did feel a bit like Sarah vs Jareth. With less scary blue leggings.

 

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In Silence Hides the Yellow Bellied Chicken…

I had all these brilliant excuses for why I haven’t written a blog post in a while.

I was busy, I had my 30th birthday party to plan then hold, I’ve been stressed and worn out with the final stages of buying our house, I’ve been sick, then I got sick again, then I got Really sick.

But honestly, I didn’t want to write because I then I would have to admit it. That that “thing” that I convinced myself wouldn’t turn into a “thing”, was in fact a THING.

Crap.

Yes, at a ride 2 weeks ago now I faced my first steep sharp sandy downhill since my buttock clenching freefall of the previous ride and I freaked out. One look over the lip of the hill and I squealed, stalled, and toppled sideways.

Great.

I was out on an advanced trail with my Dad, he was waiting at the bottom of the hill for me. I picked myself up and blinked furiously at the beginnings of tears. I “hot dogged” my bike down the hill and pushed it up to Dad. “Did you just stall and wobble?” he asked, I muttered something non committal and we rode off.

But the damage was done. And little hill after that and I was hard on the brakes, locking the wheels up and making it twice as hard and scary for myself. I got round everything, but I was pretty close to terrified and not having fun. I was missing my riding buddy Mum a lot. Plus Dad & the Husband misread a track deviation at one point, they shot off down an expert track, I ended up alone on the intermediate. Not really  a big deal, but it did mean I spent about 15 minutes and stupid amount of energy hauling my bike up a deep sandy hill. My little wheels kept getting bogged and I was pushing and dragging more than riding!

It wasn’t till we got home that the Husband mentioned  how quiet I was. So I owned up. “I’m terrified of the sandy downhills, I fell off heaps.” I explained how I’d given myself a big fright at the last ride, and now every time I look down I panic.

They both tried to be consolatory, the husband even suggested I go out on the farm and ride down every hill I can find, which was a great idea, but it was dark now and what with one thing and another the opportunity never arose.

And now we were heading back into the forest again and I had to face those stupid sandy hills. I was determined to get over it and move forward.

 

Woodhill – good for playing and racing!

 

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Back On Top!

Attitude firmly adjusted, and wow – I had a fantastic ride!

Great family ride!

A local farmer gave our club permission to host the first ever trail ride on their farm. Not only was it the chance to ride brand new terrain, it was also a fundraiser for a tiny local school, a double win!

It was beautiful – but a bit scary! Huge paddocks with a mix of rolling hills and steep ridges. There were a few short deep sandy patches, just enough to get a “glow” on I slid from side to side across the track, but we quickly popped back out onto lush grass.

The scary part came in the form of some big “bull holes”, and some steep downhills off the sides of ridges.

A bull hole is exactly what it sounds like. A large (usually deep) hole, dug out by a bull. They can be hard to spot when you’re flying across a paddock, only to have the ground disappear under your wheels, sending you cartwheeling over the bars. They are equally hard to spot when you’re not exactly flying, but gazing at the scenery and daydreaming about Steven McQueen. Note to self – keep your head in the game! At least I wasn’t staring fixedly down at my front mudguard, which is my other default riding position.

The steep ridges were ok the first round, I cruised down them happily, hanging off the back and feathering the brakes. But on the second round however, I don’t know quite what happened. I totally stuffed up the first steep downhill, I think I over braked on the initial sandy top section, which sent me sliding out of control down the next grassy section, which was quite rough. So I was being bucked down this steep angle, totally out of control, just managed to bite off the end of a slight squeal as I charged passed by my Dad. Lucky for me there was a lot of run off at the bottom.

So that basically scared the crap out of me and set the tone for the rest of the ride. I was bloody terrified at every steep downhill from then on! Which of course made me tense up and get more out of control. I was virtually screaming instructions at myself in my head at every downhill, determined not to allow this sudden crippling fear to develop into a “thing”.

Mum was having a great day, she’s got a new kickstart lever on her bike which has made a huge difference. She can start her bike easy now, its been a noticeable confidence boost. We were having a great time and I was spending most of the trail in third or even fourth gear  – A big achievement for me!

We did about 3 loops before regrouping for lunch, where Dad suggested he and the husband escort us ladies around some of the expert deviations. We talked it over with the guys who marked out the trails and they suggested which ones would be a good challenge.

I had the most fun I’ve had so far! It was fantastic! For once all four of us rode together at much the same place. I could follow the boy’s lines and was tackling steep ups and downs, just attacking the trails. I had a huge grin on my face, even down the downhills (internalized screaming, outward smile/grimace!) it forced me to ride just a smidge faster than I was comfortable and proved to me that I could handle it.

Even sections I didn’t quite make were fun, my whole attitude was “this is AWESOME” rather than “I SUCK” and it’s amazing how much difference it made. I hit a bump just on the lip of a long, steep uphill and went into orbit. Didn’t quite stick the landing but dear old Dad was expecting that and caught my bike as I tumbled off the side. He looked at me wide-eyed, clearly expecting tears or a tantrum. I just laughed and helped him drag the bike out of the way of the next rider.

At the next big uphill I picked the totally wrong route and got bounced off to the side about 3/4 of the way up. I just picked myself and bike up, rolled back down (yes rolled DOWN a scary downhill lol) and tried again. Got the same result on the next attempt and cracked up laughing as a very cautious Dad yelled down to see if I was ok, and to suggest I tried aiming for a different part of the hill.

The whole ride was like that. I felt so happy and loved having my family around me. Even when I screwed up it wasn’t a big deal. I gave everything 100% effort so it was 100% fun!

I even pushed for one final lap when everyone else was ready to leave, as I was determined to nail the first hill of doom that gave me such a fright. So Mum and I took off for our “victory lap” and had so much fun. I got some wire wrapped around my back wheel, we stopped to unwind it and I gave Mum a big hug and told her how much fun I was having and how I love having her as my riding buddy.

Her response? “Best Mother’s Day ever!”

Happy Mother’s Day to the most awesome Mom I know.

And check this out, a vid of the ride we did (not our video!): http://vimeo.com/42161943

Mini-Cupcakes for Mother’s Day

 

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It Had To Happen Sometime…

Even now I’m still not sure.

Was it a bad ride?

It certainly wasn’t a good one. It had good parts, it also had totally crap parts and have to confess to having a wee meltdown.

This is why I han’t blogged about it yet, I don’t really know what to say about it. It really can only be summed up in one word. Meh.

Why was it meh? Let me explain:

As usual, I was excited to ride. I’ve been to this trail ride a couple of times in years past on my Mum’s 1975 Yamaha TY trials bike, so figured I’d be absolutely fine on my CRF. Obviously the track changes most years, but it should be generally the same right? Same farm and all.

Hmm. Wrong.

We cruised out over nice rolling paddocks to the first track split. The signposted options were “Forestry Long Loop” and “Farm Shorter Loop”. We all opted for the Forest as all 4 of us love long rides and 3 of us love twisty tree rooted forest trails.

We didn’t find much of that. It was relentless deep, long sand tracks. Big wide trails that made for easy passing, but the sand was so deep my little wheels were getting bogged and I was all over the place, it was like being on a roller coaster – fun, but exhausting to do all day! I was hitting it as fast as I was comfortable, keeping pace and momentum up so I wasn’t getting sucked into a standstill by the sand, but it was hard going.

And it just went on, and on, and on.

We finally got onto a patch of single track that was fun for a couple of minutes, then ended up waiting in a queue of people struggling up a deep sandy hill. I hung back, launched at it and struggled up as far as I could go before the sand swallowed my back wheel. Dad and the Husband helped me drag it out and I waited for them to get Mum up, get themselves up, regroup and head off. Head off down another deep sandy track. Awesome.

I actually thought I was doing pretty well, I had a constant speed, wasn’t getting shoved around the track by the sand like I have before, I was guiding the bike pretty well. It was hard work and my thighs were screaming, but I was quietly proud of how I getting through everything.

We came to another fork, shortcut home or more forest. We again opted for the forest, hoping that we must come to something traily and fun, surely?

Nope. Just endless deep, wheel sucking sand. It seemed never-ending. Then just like before, about 2 mins of fun track before another queue. It was at this point that vast plumes of steam began erupting from my bike and the Husband started yelling at me.

My bike was over heating because I ride too slow and I suck. Now, that is NOT what the Husband said, but that’s what I heard. He told me to turn it off and that I couldn’t ride it. Ok, yes, I understand its overheating and I can’t ride it like that. But we’re currently in the middle of a single track queue and there is a short rooted hump, then a massive tree across the whole track. So the husband instructs me to turn the bike off and start pushing. Awesome.

I’m struggling and heaving with him when Dad turns up wondering what the hell we’re doing. By this time everyone is tired, frustrated, sweating and over it. Dad asks what’s going on. My mature response is “my bike’s overheating cause I’m a stupid slow loser and the Husband said I can’t ride it.” So naturally the Husband fires up pointing out that is not what he said. Which is true, but I was having a little pity party after I though I’d done well. So I try to drag my bike over the tree, fall over, scream in frustration. Much to the amusement of the queue behind us I’m sure.

Dad explains that his bike is doing the same thing, not to worry, we’ll drag it off to the side and have a breather. There’s no way I can ride it or drag it over the tree so the Husband will take it over once we’ve taken a moment to calm down. And I’ve picked up my dignity which I threw away into the bushes somewhere.

Except that the husband picked the moment I had my helmet off to talk to Dad, to start my bike and launch it over the tree, except it doesn quite work and he showers us in sand. Which would be fine, except I have my eyes and mouth open when the spray hits. And I wear contacts.

So there is instant stinging pain, furious spitting and screaming, and tears. I rip off my camelback and empty the entire thing over my face. My goggles are full of sand and I am broken.

God bless my Mother. She’s awesome. She comes storming down the track, demands that I pull myself together, instructs Dad to ride my bike up the next hill and shoves me towards it, suggesting I get climbing. She tells the Husband why I have had a meltdown, he cleans my goggles and she climbs up the hill after me.

It’s clear at this point that no one is really having fun. Dad reckons there are sections of the main track that are more like an enduro than a trail ride, he’s red faced and exhausted after hauling 3 bikes up the hill and battling with the sand. We sit at the top of the hill and he drains his camelback, My tongue is already getting furry and my camelback is dry, any water I had is now drying on my face.

So the husband arrives at the top of the hill, informs me that I HAVE to ride faster, in a higher gear. I go flying into the next sand patch, have a massive fishtail and faceplant into the sand. I repeat this again. I back to riding at my pace, inwardly cursing my Husband, berating myself for being such a useless rider, and chewing sand.

We regroup again and I can barely speak, I’m so frustrated, angry and if I’m honest I’m acting like a little bitch. I was expecting a big pat on the back for how well I thought I was doing, but no, I just get “you suck ride faster” And I can’t.

I furiously ride off and am all over the place, out of control, fishtailing and desperately trying to go faster. I don’t crash but I have some spectacular “moments” and silent tears are flowing. We hit a section of steep whoops and I’m trying to hit them in a higher gear, I get bogged and stall, get bogged and stall. As I’m furiously kicking Mum rides past and stops ahead of me. She waves me over and gives me a good talking to. Again. It’s just what I needed to hear, the perfect blend of “you’re doing really well”, “the boys aren’t always right” and “stop being a pathetic little bitch”.

So I ride off, it’s still deep, it’s still hard, but I’m riding on my own terms and it’s almost fun. We catch up to Dad and he tells us how well we’re doing. I burst out about the gears and the stalling and the frustration rises again. He explains that it is hard work for my little bike, but it’s the starting and stopping that is worse, so just keep going and ride at my pace and I’ll be fine, just turn the bike off when I stop to wait for Mum.

So the rest of the ride goes better. It’s still a battle, and I’ve got a pounding headache from dehydration but my teeth are gritted and I stay upright and forwards. That is until there is another bloody tree across the track. I stall, so get off and push my bike around it, trying to wave at Mum to show her the way around. She stalls so pushes as well, but slips and ends up sprawled over the tree with her boot buckles hooked in the branches, her bike leaning on her back pinning her down. I can’t help myself, I’m crying with laughter as she tries to pick herself up, I grab her bike but am almost dropping it as the laughter saps my strength. She’s laughing too, kicking like a landed fish and can’t work out why she can’t get up. I’m laughing to hard to tell her she’s hooked! A group of guys come past and ask if we need help, by this stage Mum’s bike is crushing me and I ask them to grab it and unhook her.

The rest of the ride is good, we ride together, there’s lots of smiles and encouragement.

We finally finish the loop and have lunch as the rain starts to fall. We all look at each other and Dad asks if anyone wants to do another lap, try the farm section. Silence. We’re not a family of quitters and no one wants to be the person who says no. Mum suggests we go to their house, light the fire and watch a DVD.

Sold.

So yeah. It wasn’t a bad ride, because I have got better at riding in sand and I had a great time with my Mum. But it wasn’t a good ride, largely because of my behaviour which I’m not proud of, but also because it was so frustrating. But I have a small wheel bike and that’s just something I have to live with. Dad suggested an upgrade to bigger wheels, but that will be swapping one set of problems for another and we haven’t got the money at the moment.

Meh.

 

 

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ANZAC Day

Tomorrow in NZ we celebrate ANZAC Day. Anzac Day is a national day of remembrance in Australia and New Zealand, originally celebrated by both countries on 25 April every year to honour the members of the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps (ANZAC) who fought at Gallipoli  (in Turkey) during World War I. It now commemorates all those who died and served in military operations for their countries.

Whilst I’m not actually a kiwi, I have lived here all my life and my husband I have a strong respect and reverence for the military. My Great Grandfather served as a foot solider in both WW1 and WW2.

Like so many, he never spoke of it.

 

My Maternal Grandfather was in the Home Guard, also known as the “Dad’s Army” as he had a farm to run which was considered essential to the war effort.

 

My Paternal Grandfather served as an architect, desiging bridges for tanks. On a table at my parent’s house there is a picture of both my Grandfathers in their uniforms. My Dad’s Dad is astride a military motorcycle 🙂

Tomorrow my husband and I will be at the Dawn Service at our War Memerial Hall. I will thank my Grandfathers, my Great Grandfather and all those who fought and are still fighting. Regardless of the politics of war and government, war still comes down to someone’s son killing somone’s son, or daughter, or child, parent, friend. We should remember them.

Then we’ll go home and watch my favourite war movie. Dad’s Dad would have approved.

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For The Fallen  

With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children, England mourns for her dead across the sea. Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit, Fallen in the cause of the free.

Solemn the drums thrill; Death august and royal Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres, There is music in the midst of desolation And a glory that shines upon our tears.

They went with songs to the battle, they were young, Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow. They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted; They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old: Age shall not weary them, nor the years contemn. At the going down of the sun and in the morning We will remember them.

They mingle not with their laughing comrades again; They sit no more at familiar tables of home; They have no lot in our labour of the day-time; They sleep beyond England’s foam.

But where our desires are and our hopes profound, Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight, To the innermost heart of their own land they are known As the stars are known to the Night;

As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust, Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain; As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness, To the end, to the end, they remain

Laurence Binyon

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Shameless Brand Suckup Cupcakes

For the trail ride last weekend I made Vanilla and Chocolate Marble cupcakes, it’s very important to ensure the event organisers are provided with cake, if you want to guarantee the sweep riders will pick you up if you fall in front of them!

Especially for the sweep riders!

And these were for the guys who bring Fox MX gear into NZ. Shamelessly sucking up cause I LOVE fox clothing, they have the best girls range.

Boston Cream cupcakes with white chocolate Fox heads

 

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