The Manchester weather is no respecter of seasons.  It was though most obliging when in late July 2016 a funeral cortege departed from an otherwise unremarkable housing estate in Wythenshawe, South Manchester, and embarked on the short journey to the church.

The only tell tale of who was taking their final journey was in the small peloton of cyclists pedalling behind,  a dozen or so lycra clad men and women who decided this was their way of paying their respects.  On arrival at the church it soon became apparent from the sheer volume of mourners that this was a popular and much respected figure.  Yet this was no local dignitary, politician or celebrity, to the 500 mourners and many more around the world who couldn’t attend this was the funeral of someone of so much more.

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There are moments in your life that for whatever reason stay etched on your mind. The moments can be a split second of something you’ve seen, something you’ve heard or something you’ve shared. These memories can be amazing, tragic or simply mundane.

Its often hard to articulate that moment and to emphasise to people not present the importance of it.

30 years ago I did a bike ride. It was a bike ride around Snowdonia, North Wales. I was dropped off by my mum at Bala Youth Hostel one August bank holiday evening to be collected the following day.  In between was to be the most fabulous cycle ride i have ever undertaken with maybe only a hundred like minded souls.

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