Jim Hutton, OBE,

A tale of the impact of leadership on the life and career of Marine Brisley

“The task of leadership is not to put greatness into people, but to elicit it, for the greatness is already there”

John Buchan

2001

9 ASRM on the Flight deck of HMS Ocean. Author and Sergeant Major seated third and second from right. Marine Brisley is standing fourth from left.

It was another Friday on board HMS OCEAN, alongside in Plymouth and I was running the weekly Squadron Orderly Room. This was the formal opportunity to deal with defaulters and to address issues with the careers of the men in 9 Assault Squadron Royal Marines (9ASRM). Over the last 18 years I have often reflected on an event that occurred at that Orderly Room and how it affected the lives the defaulter in front of me, Marine Anthony Brisley and me! Whilst I was not aware of John Buchan’s words at the time; they more than fit the outcome, as I will now reveal.

Marine Brisley was a driver assigned to HMS Ocean’s Vehicle Deck Party. Ocean was an amphibious helicopter and landing craft ship. The three man team Party had the duties of controlling the loading and unloading of the ship’s vehicle deck and also the preparation of underslung loads for the helicopters. The rest of the Squadron crewed the four Landing Craft Vehicle and Personnel (LCVP).

Marine Brisley was a bit of a character from West London; mischievous, cocky, always one for the backchat or rejoinder. He seemed to be at the centre of any trouble and was always getting caught. He was in front of me, as a defaulter, for yet another misdemeanour that was bringing the good name of the Squadron into disrepute amongst the rest of the Ships Company and causing me and my Sergeant-Major (‘George’ Patrick) the inevitable headaches and administrative work we could well do without. My chat with the Sergeant Major before the Orderly Room saw us discussing our deep unhappiness at Brisley’s performance and what our options were for getting rid of him. We were due to deploy to the Mediterranean with a raft of exercises and port calls on the horizon. I did not need bad blood in the Squadron!

The leadership moment

In marched Brisley. I was ready to give him a resounding dressing down, however, something in his eye told me not to. His whole demeanour spoke to me of regret; for what he had done, for causing the Squadron and me embarrassment and for being a poorly behaved Marine.

“What is wrong with you Marine Brisley?” I asked.

“Well Sir, I am sorry for what I have done but I am really unhappy,” he responded.

“What is the cause of your unhappiness Marine Brisley?” I asked.

“I am bored Sir, I am fed up being a driver and want to do more with my life.”

“What can I do to help you?”

“You’ll laugh if I tell you Sir.”

“I will try not to.”

“Let me change specialisation, I want to be a Drill Instructor!”

My response

I laughed. The thing is, that in the Royal Marines, the Drill Instructors are all Non-Commissioned Officers, the epitome of smartness, discipline and Corps Values, everything indeed that Marine Brisley was not!

I explained to him that even if I thought this a reasonable course of action for him, he would have to earn a recommendation for promotion, attend and pass a Junior Command Course and be promoted to Corporal (Cpl), then after serving as a Section Commander in a Commando Unit he would then have to apply for and be selected for Drill Instructor training. As a Cpl Drill Instructor he would then be assigned to Recruit Training where he would take 60 or so fresh recruits on the day they join the Royal Marines at the Commando Training Centre and train, coach and mentor them through their 32 weeks of arduous training to win their Green Berets. He would be providing them with a model of discipline, leadership and Corps values. Was that really what he wanted to do and was he capable of being that man?

The outcome

“Yes Sir, that is exactly what I want to do and be. I want to train recruits and lead marines. That is what I joined the Royal Marines to do. I was not given an option. I never wanted to be a driver!”

“Okay Marine Brisley. Here is what is going to happen. I am going to give you a chance to prove to yourself and to me that you have got what it takes. In six weeks time we will be conducting a ship visit to Valletta in Malta. The Captain will host an Official reception for the local dignitaries and it will be the first opportunity for the UK to showcase this new ship to our allies, partners and friends in the region. The Captain asked me if we, 9 ASRM, could lay something special on for the Sunset Ceremony. I have in mind that we put on a bit of a drill display and I want you to lead it. You choose the men, work up the routine, train and drill them then put on the display. Can you and will you do that?”

“Yes Sir, I will give it a crack!”

“No Marine Brisley, a crack is not good enough, this needs to be first rate. You will need to pull out the stops.”

“Leave it to me Sir, thank you for putting your faith in me.”

What have I done?

At that point I dismissed Marine Brisley and a bemused Sergeant Major asked me what I had just done? I had given him a chance; that was all. Something told me that this was what he needed.

The following Monday at our morning Parade, I informed the Squadron that Marine Brisley would be devising the drill display for Malta and would be selecting and training the squad to conduct it. There was a collective groan from the men. I was not confident in the outcome.

Brisley’s leadership

A few days later the Sergeant Major told me that it was not going well. The men were refusing to work for Brisley and he was pulling his hair out! I recall sitting him down and asking him how it felt and what the cause was of the men refusing to support him. He was angry and full of blame for them on their professionalism and lack of discipline. I remarked that it sounded like the pot calling the kettle black; he had that epiphany moment and then understood. He had been the cause of much trouble for the men in the past, why should they now help him out? What could he do to win them over?

The Drill squad enjoying a traditional glass of port after the Sunset Ceremony

Well I would like to say that he performed some textbook leadership example to do this, but he did not. He bribed them with beer and he got his twelve men out practicing the drill routine that he had developed. Over time, his hard work paid off, they actually enjoyed his leadership and the imaginative programme he had dreamt up. The routine was enhanced as the drill improved. By the time we got to Malta, the rehearsals drew regular crowds of ships company, eager to see what ‘Royal’ was doing. The drill display was now a silent routine (no commands given) of timed choreographed steps, weapon handling and memorably excellent precision moves.

The response

The Ship’s Captain and guests were both impressed and delighted. He moved to congratulate me since he imagined that I had devised the whole thing. I was able to step aside and introduce him to the man behind it all. A rather surprised Captain noted that Marine Brisley had pulled it off in style. The Squadron rallied around Brisley, a clear example of someone who had achieved a substantial change in direction.

So, why my gut feeling?

The Marine Brisley that presented himself at the Orderly Room had been in the Squadron for some time. I knew him to be better than he had currently been behaving. The year before we had deployed twice on operations to Sierra Leone at no notice. Marine Brisley had been a central character in the good performance of the entire Squadron. He had demonstrated some good leadership attributes and offered ideas for improving our effectiveness. One day, during Operation SILKMAN, I received a welfare signal informing me that Marine Brisley’s mother was critically ill in hospital. We were to make every effort to get him home. He was out in a Landing Craft at the time. His fellow marines packed some gear for him and assembled money, travel documents, food and water for him. I recalled his landing craft to the ship and a helicopter was made ready. When he arrived back at the ship I had only enough time to explain the situation and tell him that everything he needed was in the helicopter. He ran off, fully aware that his oppo’s (a Royal Marines term for a friend) had supported him when he most needed it.

The helicopter flew him to Lungi airport where he boarded a plane to Dakar and then on to London. A Royal Marines Sergeant met him and sped him to the hospital in London where he arrived just in time to hold his mothers hand and express his love for her before she passed. We all felt good about that.

Such had been his place in the Squadron that that the troops rallied to support him. It was really after the return to routine duties on ship in Plymouth that Brisley started to stray. This is not at all unusual for young men who have tasted the adrenalin and buzz of operations. I think that was what lay at the back of my mind when I was figuring out how to deal with his trouble making.

Return to UK

Post the Malta visit and various amphibious exercises we returned to UK and an opportunity arose for the ship to embark family and friends for a short overnight trip for Marchwood to Plymouth. I encouraged Marine Brisley to bring his close family, which he did. Their sense of gratitude for what the Royal Navy and Royal Marines had done to get Brisley back to see his Mum and for the clear changes in his character for the better was almost overwhelming.

Brisley went on to join the newly formed four-man rock band called The Crows. They played for the families. His interests were widening and I had no difficulty recommending him for promotion.

Mne Brisley at work on a desert trail in Oman.

I posted off the ship and he left soon afterwards to start his NCO training. He passed and joined 42 Commando Royal Marines as a Section Commander leading seven marines in a Rifle Company.

Next meeting

I saw him briefly for a drink and a catch up when I returned from the invasion of Iraq in 2003. He was keen to know what it had been like and how the ship and Squadron had performed. He was in good spirits and enjoying leading his Section.

I met with him again just before he deployed to Afghanistan. The Corps was fully involved conducting regular deployments to Helmand. Marines were experiencing some of the toughest fighting since the Falklands War. He was excited but mindful. He knew this would be a defining moment. I reminded him of where he had come from on his journey to date and we parted with a firm handshake and the knowledge of a journey shared.

Helpful leadership

On his return and knowing that the Unit had had a particularly brutal six months in action I called him to agree a meet up. We sat in a pub in the Barbican in Plymouth and as men do, when they are comfortable with their company, he poured out the emotions of his experience. It was as he had expected, a defining moment in his life as a leader. The Tour was full of danger, trauma and action. He lost close friends, saw terrible things and had never been so frightened. He had come through it though and led his men well and they had accomplished good things despite the hell they had experienced. I asked him how he was coping. He said all was well.

In fact, he got up in the morning, made his wife breakfast then drove her to work in Plymouth City Centre. He would then park up and wait for her to finish and collect her at the end of the day. What did he do between nine and four, I asked? Without any hesitation, he responded by saying that he would go and sit on a bench and watch the world go by (for seven hours!). I asked him if he thought that was a good use of his time. He said it gave him time to think but he had been doing this now for five weeks and maybe, I urged, it was time he went and sought some professional help. He did.

Over the following years I saw him when he was a qualified Drill Instructor training recruits at the Command Training Centre Royal Marines; he loved it. He was now truly enjoying life, his goal fulfilled.

Tragedy and leadership

My oldest son Jamie, a Royal Marine, was killed in an accident at Lulworth Range in 2008. I was on Rest and Recuperation from a Tour in Afghanistan at the time and now found myself trying to cope with the grief of losing him and organising his funeral. Sergeant Brisley heard and reached out. Jamie was cremated with full military honours. Sergeant Brisley worked tirelessly with another former Royal Marine “Baz” Thrift (a retired Warrant Officer who I had taken through training in the late 1980s) to organise the ceremonial side. It was flawless and wonderful and as good as such events can be in the aftermath of tragedy. I will always be grateful to them both for that.

Later, I became the Director of Training at the Commando Training Centre Royal Marines. Who should be the senior Drill Instructor? None other than Colour Sergeant Brisley! We had coffee catch-ups and a few laughs about the way things had panned out. What a pleasure seeing this now highly professional man, doing what he was good at.

Brisley retired from the Royal Marines in January 2018 as a Warrant Officer. He afforded me a lovely accolade by inviting me to his Top Table. The Top Table is a fine tradition in the Sergeant’s Mess of the Royal Marines. On retirement, a lunch is held to formally recognise his service. He can invite all those (past and present) who meant something to him during his career. The lunch is punctuated with reminders of the highs and lows of his career with many dits (stories) being told. That is why I wrote this article. I can’t be there but it is important that his story is told.

So what?

Nobody, least of all me, can predict the future or see the impact that decisions made will have on a man. One can imagine though! In leadership terms it would have been easy to dismiss Marine Brisley as trouble and get rid of him; indeed I thought about it! Something told me that he was a keeper. Yes, I was taking a risk on him. Yes, it was potentially going to mean more trouble than it was worth. However, on reflection, I am very happy that I chose the path that supported this young Marine when he needed it. He turned out well. Brisley leaves the Royal Marines on an absolute high. He has in turn, led and influenced so many more men for the better.

I shared this article with him before publishing and he said, “you are the single biggest factor in the outcome of my career……. the orderly room pre Malta was my crossroad and you gave me the ‘chance’; things would have ended differently indeed if you hadn’t helped me then. It is and has always been on my mind when I have had to deal with defaulters of my own and every time I’ve checked myself as to how I got to where I did”.

In life, as leaders, there are times when you just need to go that little bit further. You have to go with your instinct and give someone a chance. As this tale demonstrates, you and others will ultimately benefit from the “greatness” that is in us all.

Written by Jim Hutton, OBE for Anthony Brisley

Remembrance – what it means to me

Two weeks ago my wife, Sally and I visited The Armed Forces Memorial in Britain’s National Arboretum. Like the splendid Australian War Memorial in Canberra it is a nationally significant focus for Remembrance. It honours those members of the Armed Forces (Regular and Reserve) who were killed on duty while performing functions attributable to the special circumstances and requirements of the Armed Forces, or as a result of terrorist action, and those who died while deployed on designated operations since the end of WW2.

Unlike the World War memorials in towns and villages across the United Kingdom, there is nowhere else that records over 16,000 names of those who have been killed on duty in recent times.

The memorial

The centrepiece of the Memorial is two large bronze sculptures, representing loss and sacrifice, on either side of a central bronze laurel wreath. Created by Ian Rank-Broadley, the sculptures bear silent witness to the cost of armed conflict.

To the north, a Serviceman is raised aloft on a stretcher by comrades. On either side family members look on – a mother clasped by a child and an older couple clutching each other in anguish. It bears witness to the cost of armed conflict to those left behind – the families, loved ones and friends who live with the pain and consequence of their loss for the rest of their lives.

Opposite, the body of a warrior is being prepared for burial by female and Gurkha soldiers. The figure before the double doors points to a world beyond where the warrior will rest as another figure chisels the name on the memorial

The Memorial is a stunning piece of architecture comprising a 43 metre diameter stone structure with two curved walls and two straight walls containing the names of those honoured there.

The names of those who have died are recorded in date and Service order from 1946, grouped together with colleagues who died in the same incident.

Our journey

Sally and I were able to slowly walk the wall from 1978 when we both joined the UK Armed Forces as 17 year olds, Sally the Women’s Royal Naval Service and me initially the Royal Navy and then the Royal Marines.

As we walked the 40 or so meters towards 2017, we recognised with some degree of shock, the names and recalled the faces of many, many friends and colleagues now long gone. More, I am sad to say, than we would have remembered if asked to recall.

It struck me hard that while a lot of them had died in action, so many more had been killed in training including our very own oldest son, Marine Jamie Hutton, aged 23 in 2008.

Ours is a tough profession. We do dangerous things and put ourselves in harms way as our nations demand. We have to train for that.

Frequently the enemy does not bear arms, but disguises himself as bad weather and arduous conditions and he manifests himself in fatigue and poor judgement. Through combinations of seemingly tiny and innocuous errors events conspire and align to become catastrophes and before you know it, death is around you.

Sadly, I have had men under my command die in just such circumstances, in my company or in my arms, whither at the hand of our nations enemies or our natural environmental ones they were there and then they were gone. Bright flames extinguished, leaving nothing but pain, grief and memories of great times and thoughts of what might have been. Such is life in the Armed Forces.

So for me, Remembrance is a special day. It is a day where I recognise that without venture, nothing is gained, that taking risks are part of the daily lives of our soldiers, sailors, marines and airmen. They do their best to prepare for combat and sometimes that results in tragedy.

Whether they died in action or by misfortune they were in uniform, serving their country, nonetheless.

It is important that we remember them all.

Lest we forget.

What shaped you?

A Mexeflote carries a M1A1 Main Battle Tank out to HMAS Choules.

So here I am, 14 years on, in another amphibious ship, in another country going to war. It’s an exercise of course, and this time nobody is shooting back. Responding only to the actions of our forces, the enemy is mostly computer simulated. Today, I am what we call an Observer/Trainer. My role is to coach, mentor and where necessary train. I am working with the command team and staff as they plan and conduct an entry operation into a foreign land.

14 years ago, to the day, I was the Second in Command of a Commando Unit, lying in a hole in the Kuwait desert a few miles south of the border with Iraq. We were readying ourselves to conduct a night helicopter assault on to a heavily defended position in order to capture and secure a key piece of infrastructure. We had to prevent Saddam Hussein’s forces from blowing it up.

Memories that shaped me

19 Mar 2003 was a memorable date in my life. I lost friends and colleagues and went into action with some of the best -trained and closest band of brothers I ever served with. It was a night to remember for sure, but it only comes to the front of your mind when you meet someone else who was there. I had not connected today’s activity to that of 14 years ago. I am forward looking and rarely dwell on the past. That can be a bad thing though. In a brief conversation with a fellow former Royal Marine who had also been there that night, in another Unit, I was reminded of something important.

Remembrance Day

It was a Remembrance Day a few years ago at Exeter Cathedral in Devon, England. I was laying a wreath at the Cenotaph during the formal ceremony. It was a typical overcast November day with rain threatening. The mood as ever was somber. I used the minute’s silence to recall by name all the men I had served with over the years that were now gone. The minute was not long enough. It left me feeling flat and empty.

I met with a couple of Marine buddies and we headed to a nearby hotel for a social. I shared a drink and recollections with Chris, who had been there with me in 2003. Chris revealed that he had been first on scene at a helicopter crash site. Two of his best mates and men I knew well, were amongst the dead. It was all too much. We both cried and hugged and shared the moment.

It was not until today that this memory awoke in me. My fellow former Royal Marine knew Chris well and recounted the fact that he had been at the crash scene and had then been given command of the Unit whose officer commanding had just perished. Chris had to put the incident behind him and got on with leading his men. He did, and he did so magnificently and bravely. He won the Military Cross as a result of the actions that he led in the coming weeks.

Why it matters.

My fresh recollection is the fact that Chris and I had a bond; not only from a shared experience in combat, but of those tears and hugs and the ability to bring some peace to instantly troubled minds. On reflection I can see the benefit in looking back and being reminded of good people and tough times. Those memories are after all what shape you as an individual and account for who you are today. If you are a service veteran, do take the time to meet with a buddy and share stories and remember. It’s part of what shaped you.

What have you seen by chance through simply turning around?

Did you make time to see the Perigee Moon? Well I did and I saw more than I was expecting!

Let me tell you about it

There was an announcement in the media that we would be able to witness one of those rare natural phenomenons. The Moon would be closer to the Earth than normal and the point on the Moon’s orbit closest to Earth is called the perigee. So when a Full Moon or New Moon occurs close to the Moon’s perigee, it is known as a Supermoon. The Supermoon on November 14, 2016, was the closest a Full Moon has been to Earth since January 26, 1948. A colleague and naval navigator took time to let his co-workers know the details; what time it would rise and in what direction in relation to Sydney where I live.

Many people were talking about it as it was going to be something different and interesting and potentially memorable.

So on the day, I headed down to the beach intent on finding a spot on the headland so that I would have a clear, uninterrupted view out to sea of the rising moon.

It never occurred to me that everyone would have the same idea. As I walked down to the beach the pavements and roadways grew full of people all heading to the beach, interested in this natural event!

Anyway, I dodged and weaved past tripod toting people all looking for a place to set up. Folk were massing; cameras, phones and video recorders at the ready. Everyone was facing out to sea and there was a huge air of expectation.

What happened?

The sky did not look favourable. A weather front sat in the northern sky full of dense stratus layered cloud. In the south and western sky, the sun was busy tracking its way towards the distant horizon behind billowing cumulous, leaving us in gathering twilight.

I worked my way down on to the rocky ledges above a turbulent sea and positioned myself ready for the moonrise. I checked my compass and with some disappointment realised that the moon would be rising behind the dense stratus cloud. So it was with some consternation that the appointed moonrise time came and went, with no Perigee Moon to be seen!

Look behind you!

I looked around.

Everyone I could see, stood and sat in family and friendly groups with their eyes cast out to the East. They were waiting, waiting, and waiting!

I looked above them and realised what they were all missing. The wonder to behold was not in the eastern sky, it was in the western sky. The setting sun’s rays cast brilliant light on the cloudy east and southern sky such that it glowed with gold’s and purples and blues. It was truly wonderful and memorable and nobody was looking. As the sun dropped towards and below the western horizon, the sky was in the sort of colourful turmoil. The sort that makes you smile and be content.

The western sky reveals a memorable sight.

However, out to the east, the drifting front swallowed up the horizon and then, as if by magic, the moon suddenly appeared through a slash in the cloud. We saw it, partly masked by cloud and no different really to how it normally looks.

People drifted off. I checked Facebook and saw posts of the moon as others saw it, further south with clear sky. Unsurprisingly, it did look bigger and brighter than normal, but nobody was reporting the true wonder of the evening. Hence, the majority seemed to have missed the sunset I witnessed because they were all facing the other way. They were unaware of what was happening above and behind them.

So what?

It got me thinking. So, how many times do we miss something because we are looking for something else? Do we set out to do something and have our expectations dashed when it fails to happen? How often do we miss an opportunity to do or see something else? Whilst it is important to focus your attention on something, maybe we need to be alive to what else might be happening?

I really was buoyed to have seen an impressive twilight sky. It was the Perigee Moon that caused me to be there and I did miss seeing it in its unfettered splendour, but I was not dissappointed!

What have you seen by chance through simply turning around?

Do you wonder about expanding your Horizon? Talk to a Coach!

The value of coaching.

People often ask me about the value of coaching and whether it is worth the effort. “Will it broaden my horizon?” The fact that it can take a number of sessions is often seen as an obstacle to commencement of any coaching interaction. So, I have always been a fan of what I call the “corridor coaching moment”. In simple terms, it is no more than an engagement between a coach and someone who has an issue. It is seldom planned and often, the rewards are manifest. Let me tell you a story that illustrates my point.

I recently met a young woman with whom I had had such an engagement about three years ago. At the time, I was working as a coach and mentor on a ship supporting its work up. She had brought me a message from her Captain so I invited her to take a seat and have a short conversation. I always enjoy knowing a little bit about who I am working with.

I asked her about her role on board and the usual questions around job satisfaction and ambition. To my surprise, it became evident that she had not actually spent any time thinking about her future. She was focused on getting on with her job, managing her time at home and being good at what she did. Whilst admirable, it was by her own admission, a bit self-limiting. I sensed a “corridor coaching moment”!

Horizon

I simply coached her towards thinking about her strengths and where she could stretch herself professionally. Since she realised her horizon was close, I described what she might be capable of, if she set her mind to it.

As a result, she came back a couple of days later and asked if I thought she was capable of going to work for a senior Navy officer. He was recruiting for someone with her skillset. I offered that she most definitely had the ability; she just needed to apply and win the job on the interview. Her doubts lay around her own ‘worth horizon’. Was she capable of expanding to something greater? I suggested she could and coached her towards applying.

Consequently, three years on and having won the job at interview, she was promoted. She is now poised to promote again and commence a new job with far greater responsibility. Her employment horizon has expanded towards a change of category with Navy based on a long held desire to nurse. She knows that she can do it if she tries hard enough. With the encouragement of her current Boss she has been studying in her own time to take the tests.

All going well she will commence Nursing training and become an officer in the not too distant future.

I asked her how she felt about all this change in her life. Her answer was simple. Our chance encounter, my coaching interest in her and her desire to expand her professional horizons combined to create opportunity for her to think about her potential. She is now in a great place and loving her life.

Corridor Coaching

As a coach, “corridor coaching” engagements such as this are hugely rewarding. Seeing people open up, through a simple line of questioning that takes them on a journey that helps them expand their horizon, is the life-blood of coaching. You can see a demonstration of “corridor coaching” on You Tube here

Finally, whoever, you are, whatever you do, coaching can support you to think more about what you are capable of.

So go on, expand your horizon; talk to a coach.

For more on this article – get in touch with Jim here

Good luck or good planning? What do you think?

My life in the military has seen me in many dangerous spots. I gave up counting my ‘lives’ when I passed nine! What I do know is that when you plan for the worst, it rarely happens, but when it does, you are prepared and you can roll with it. Simply put, I don’t believe in luck!

What happened?

Recently I found myself in hospital having been hit by a car whilst commuting to work. I broke bones in six places in my upper left chest having instinctively taken the fall on my should
er rather than head plant the car. Thankfully my helmet and protective gear did their job.

The ambulance crew were efficient and full of morale and the A&E staff sorted me out in double quick time. I spent the time in an opiate haze drifting in and out of sleep. It was actually all very comfortable and my wife Sally was a constant supporting companion and a steady stream of friends called and visited keeping my morale high with their banter.

Reflection

3 weeks on I find myself reflecting on the experience. I remember vividly seeing the car pull out without any indication, into my path and me having no place to go. I know my speed was 65kph as I had just checked it and my mirrors. I knew I had traffic coming up behind me and to my left. My next memory is waking on the tarmac, rain pattering on my face, visor gone, helmet supporting my head and the feeling of blood trickling down my face and into my mouth. All I could see were feet; feet of passers by offering help and feet of policemen keeping the traffic away.

I was immobilised and frozen in place lying in the foetal position on my right arm, which was going numb whilst I did my self-triage to determine what the damage was to the rest of me. I determined early on that my ribs and clavicle were bust and that my lungs were in jeopardy. The ambulance crew confirmed this and I was taken to hospital to be treated.

Conclusion

A number of people have told me I was lucky. I disagree. I think those of us who ride bikes, scooters and motorbikes see it differently. When I get on my bike, every other road user is a potential threat to be mitigated. Anticipation and early action to buffer threats is a constant and self-talk gets used as a commentary to survival. It’s what you do and it’s actually enjoyable. I am not put off riding; I anticipate this sort of thing happening on every commute and plan my reaction accordingly. I am convinced that is why I pulled the bike down and took the hit on my shoulder rather than head-on into the car.

Good luck or good planning? I’m going with the latter!

What do you think?

We only have one life – live it!

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