The story.

This is the point in time where I cautiously enter the room, somewhat abash. Everyone sits with their heads drooped between their shoulders: hunched over a drink. They are all sipping from the same cloudy bottles. One Sudanese gentleman pours a small quantity of fluid between his lips, allowing it to swill around in his mouth before swallowing. This is no nectar. The grimace on his face makes clear the shocking bitterness. It is the drink of Neglect.

As a loose floorboard squeaks beneath my left shoe, they all turn their heads towards me. The Blog-Followers. They peer over at me, their eyes bleary with Neglect, and it is clear what they want: a reason why. Why have they been forsaken? Why has their been no warning? Why have their been no blog-posts? Without a word, these questions are communicated to me. I'm looked upon with the same disappointment and disdain found in the eyes of a mother as she catches a boy desperately trying to cover himself with his Playboy. When  he finally emerges from the bathroom, the sense of awkward embarrassment is thick in his mind. It is this same shame with which I come before you, the Blog-Followers.

I could brush it off: "I've just been busy. There were final exams, and I had a lot of work to do."

But no, you deserve the truth...

I've been involved in a top-secret excursion to save the world against rabid-laser-wielding-lions. It's been a long, top-secret battle, but we've finally prevailed...top-secret-ly. This is why I've been gone, but now I'm back!

Coming soon! The International Bicycle Film Festival: A detailed look into what this was all about, and an insider perspective of what it's like to be Dead Fucking Last in a bike race (this was me).