Turn, Turn, Turn

They say that if you've learned once, you never forget. But what if you never feel the need to test out what you learned so long ago? At school we were taught how to rescue a brick from the bottom of a swimming pool. I was brilliant at it, but in my whole life since, I've never encountered a single distressed brick in need of assistance, underwater or otherwise.

Likewise, it's been nearly two decades since my backside last graced a bicycle seat. Why did I bother learning in the first place?

Oh, it was a fantastic rite of passage. Sunday afternoons on the ASDA car park, perched on a wobbly bike whose steering and braking mechanisms largely relied on the presence of a strong wind. On the upside, the store was closed, so the chances of me getting mowed down by a passing BMW were slim. On the downside, the car park was permanently covered by a glittering meniscus of broken glass, but my dad was confident that if nothing else, this would quickly teach me not to fall off.

And how could I forget the motivational lectures that accompanied those riding sessions? They forever drummed into my mind that no matter how bad things got, I should never give up, but grit my teeth and bang my head against the brick wall of adversity instead. I think these lectures are part of a secret handbook that's distributed to fathers everywhere on the birth of their first son. At the very least, I can picture Colonel Gaddafi's old man teaching him this lesson with the same gusto my dad employed.

After the initial learning process was over, it was Cycling Proficiency classes at school, which we only took because it was a cast-iron way of getting out of Maths. As sure as 2 + 2 = 7.3, you'd find all of us ducking outside on many a rainy morning to ride around in circles and laugh at Steven Butler, who was always pedalling round on a bike that was clearly meant for someone half his age, which had the pronounced effect of making him look like a performing hamster.

And after all that, I decided that I just wasn't interested. And I'm still not. Wheeled transport just isn't my thing. So was it all a waste of time?

I'm too tired to answer that. I'll let The Byrds do it for me.


To everything (turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time to every purpose, under Heaven

A time to be born, a time to die
A time to plant, a time to reap
A time to kill, a time to heal
A time to laugh, a time to weep

To everything (turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time to every purpose, under Heaven

A time to build up,a time to break down
A time to dance, a time to mourn
A time to cast away stones, a time to gather stones together

To everything (turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time to every purpose, under Heaven

A time of love, a time of hate
A time of war, a time of peace
A time you may embrace, a time to refrain from embracing

To everything (turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time to every purpose, under Heaven

A time to gain, a time to lose
A time to rend, a time to sew
A time for love, a time for hate
A time for peace, I swear it's not too late