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RIP, my bike with no name…

Yes, I have become a Dutch statistic. My bike has been stolen. There I was, in wide-eyed disbelief. Paul’s bike was there, just how he’d left it, with the rear wheel still locked up. As for me, I stood there, bike key in hand, staring at the spot where I’d left my own twelve hours […]

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The lazy girl’s equivalent of scaling Everest

I think it’s become quite clear on this blog that although I might profess a deep love of the Olympic Games, I’ve always known that I’d be confined to the stands and would never be on the field of play. In this mindset, I’ve always shot Paul down when he would suggest a day out […]

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