Self-storage

I live quite close to one of those 'self-storage' units that let you store your belongings. I've often wondered if anyone has taken the self-storage wording too literally though. Could the companies be libel for trade description if they turned people away who wanted to store themselves? Probably not, but it would be funny to see anyway.

The above cartoon was inspired partly by self-storage units, but also by the basic human urge to climb into any cardboard box that will accommodate you. If you've never done this before, well, I don't believe you.

I was 18 here. There's no excuse for the

hair-cut though.

My daily nemesis

It takes me about 45 minutes to walk to work, and about 35 of those minutes is spent trudging up Feeder Road. This unassuming path has become a daily torture to me that I've decided I simply must address. Every step I take on Feeder Road is a step closer to insanity. I kid you not; Feeder Road is making me a little crazy.

It may seem a little extreme hating an inanimate object as much as I do, but that's the problem. Feeder Road is just too inanimate. It's so dull! One long, straight path stretching 1.5 miles. The only thing that could make it worse would be if it was a hill, with an upward incline on the way home. Or maybe if it was a Travellator and I was trying to walk in the opposite direction. No, wait, it already feels like that.

For your viewing pleasure, I've added a crude rendition of Feeder Road below. I could have coloured it in, and applied perspective and depth. But no, Feeder Road, you don't deserve that.

I think my absolute hate of this road stems from my complete lack of patience with anything. That and my constant need to be amused and entertained. Feeder Road aggravates both.

My first attempt at combating Feeder Road Fatigue was to run to and from work. This was awesome for a few weeks; more than halving my time spent commuting. Then Feeder Road gave me tendonitis, so I had to stop running for a while. Score 1 to the road. I briefly contemplated driving to and from work, but the thought of braving commuter traffic made me baulk. That and the £18 a day it would cost to park somewhere.

So, I have now invested in a bike and I'm going to attempt to cycle to and from work. This isn't as straight-forward as it sounds for several reasons. Firstly, I haven't ridden a bike since I was 12 years old, and that was with stabilisers and some kind of preternatural power keeping me upright (can the sheer force of childhood imagination alone halt the laws of physics?). Secondly, although Bristol is described as a cycle city, what this actually means is that drivers spend an inordinate amount of time picking spokes, shards of disc brakes and human bone out of their tyres.

Feeder Road; you will not win