Jon O'Malley
Earth - The Republic of Ireland - 2002
The Cast
Jon O’Malley, Moira
Jonathan O’Malley’s dream world began to disappear as he drifted into the start of a new day. He became aware of a piercing light invading his senses and buried his head in his pillow to shut the intruder out. Moments later his brain began to prise open his eyelids until he finally realised it was the sun’s rays squeezing through a gap in the curtains. He jumped out of bed and flung them open. The weather had finally brightened up. The first week of the school summer holidays had been awful—wet and windy—but now the sun was shining, and the sky was blue.
He raced downstairs to where Moira was making breakfast. She was his nanny, or had been when he was younger, looking after him during the many times his parents were away working. Her job description nowadays was undefined, but she loved working there, and in Jon’s mind she was part of the family.
He sat down and started devouring the scrambled eggs and bacon Moira had placed in front of him, with a speed and ferocity that only a teenage boy could manage. She joined him, and they ate in a comfortable silence before she asked, ‘So, where are you going today now the weather has changed? Football with the boys?’ She knew the answer before she’d even asked the question.
He swallowed the last of his breakfast. ‘I think I’ll be heading off on my bike. Any chance of a sandwich to take with me?’
‘Already done and in your backpack,’ she smiled.
Jon loved his bike; it set him free.
Oh, he liked his schoolmates and was popular with them. It was just, well, they were always playing football, and it wasn’t his thing. He wasn’t a team player; always happier in his own company. And never more so than when he was riding his bike.
He made his way to the highest point of the woods on the eastern side of Harewood Hall. He loved it there. This time of year, the Irish countryside was as dramatic as it was beautiful, a patchwork of vibrant green colours as far as the eye could see. His choice of routes to the valley below could be exhilaratingly fast, technically demanding or downright dangerous.
He put his helmet on and closed his eyes for a moment. A gentle breeze kissed his cheeks, and the warmth of the rising sun radiated through his clothing. He visualised the route he was going to take: the gradients, the technical sections, the fast sections where he would let his machine fly free. He entered his cycling mind-set. As he started down, he rose out of his saddle, his bike dancing over the rocks and tree roots, all carefully placed there by Mother Nature to unseat less worthy riders. His part in this addictive partnership of man and machine was to choose a line, feather the brakes and trust in his bike.
Jon kept his body fluid in readiness for the steeper terrain. The obstacles trying to bring him off his bike came towards him at blindingly fast speed. He relaxed his arms and legs and could feel the bike’s Marzocchi suspension begin to show its pedigree. His DiamondBack bike may have been a little dated but when new it was the best money could buy. His father had told him that the suspension was the same as that used in the Ferrari Formula 1 racing cars. It certainly was the most well balanced bike he’d ever ridden, and it felt like a Ferrari right now. The technical section eased off, and the route became a flatter but fast single track. He powered through the bike’s gears to get maximum speed for an upcoming jump. As he hit it, he lifted off and floated through the air—time seeming to slow down as he felt tree branches flash by on either side of him. He sighted his landing point and relaxed further, letting his body and the Ferrari suspension cushion his landing. Before he knew it, he was at the bottom, the time taken to get down having now dissolved into a fusion of senses. His only desire now was to do it again.
By midday, he needed a break as three-quarters of his time was spent working hard to get back up the hill. The last effort had left his quads burning. Some food and rest were in order at his favourite relaxation place. Swan Pool, a lake within the grounds of Harewood Hall.