Highway Cello

Did you think I’d ridden my bike to the end of the earth and fallen off? Well I haven’t quite – I just thought I didn’t really have anything much to say.But perhaps I have. I’ve been busy since I last posted – nine months ago! The book tour that I talked about then has […]

It’s here! The Highway Cello book is now available. It felt to me as though it was a slow process – a long time coming. But they tell me publishing is never quick. Actually I’m supposed to tell you this is a pre-publication offer. There’s a formal, real, publication date in May. But for you,

Lots of people said I need to get on and write the Highway Cello book. So I got on and wrote it. The first draft, and first edit, are complete. (That’s not a real book cover you can see there, sorry). I suppose now the real work starts – it’s a complicated process to get

One of the great things about being home is that you can get back to proper practice – lots of scales – which I wasn’t able to do when I was away. So I’ve been back in the UK about ten days.  I had two nights at home, and then went off down to Malvern and Gloucester, for

According to the screen we are travelling at 249kph, which I calculate is 155mph, about twelve times as fast as I would normally go on a bike, and in a much straighter line.  The seat is very comfortable, and the air is conditioned. I can give my full attention to the view, without worrying about

I gave a private concert for the Mayor’s Diplomatic Ambassador.  On the roof of the Musei Capitolini, in the sunshine, with the ancient city spread out below us. Actually it wasn’t that private.  It required a staff of six to organise, escort, take notes, photograph the event, and generally see fair play.  As I said

“Is this the first time you play at the Pantheon?”  The question was aggressive.  The questioner wasn’t wearing a uniform, but he had a large Polizia badge hanging round his neck, and resting on a very authoritatively sized stomach.  The badge was not much below my eyeline when I stood up. I didn’t have time

“Are you going to play for the Pope?” Terence asked, as he snipped the hair that was a good deal greyer since the last time I’d seen him, just before Covid.  “Well, you should.” That was a few days before I left home, in the last week of May.  Not the Pope himself, I thought;

It’s 27 miles to Rome.  If the weather had been different – which I think it sometimes must be, unless all these roadsigns warning of snow are someone’s idea of a joke – I would just have pedalled on, and reached Rome a bit later today. It wasn’t quite so hot today.  But one of

I smell like the Devil.  Literally.  It’s nothing to do with the heat – though more of that later.  It’s a real and strong smell of sulphur.  And it’s coming from me. When I saw the signs to the Bagno San Fillipo, 4km up the hill to the right, I imagined a shaded square, with