*A FINANCIAL TIMES BOOK OF THE YEAR 2021* Tim Moore, the author of the Sunday Times bestselling French Revolutions, completes his epic (and ill-advised) trilogy of cycling's Grand Tours. Julian Berrendero's victory in the 1941 Vuelta a Espana was an extraordinary exercise in sporting redemption: the Spanish cyclist had just spent 18 months in Franco's concentration camps, punishment for expressing Republican sympathies during the civil war. Seventy nine years later, perennially over-ambitious cyclo-adventurer Tim Moore developed a fascination with Berrendero's story, and having borrowed an old road bike with the great man's name plastered all over it, set off to retrace the 4,409km route of his 1941 triumph - in the midst of a global pandemic. What follows is a tale of brutal heat and lonely roads, of glory, humiliation, and then a bit more humiliation. Along the way Tim recounts the civil war's still-vivid tragedies, and finds the gregarious but impressively responsible locals torn between welcoming their nation's only foreign visitor, and bundling him and his filthy bike into a vat of antiviral gel. 'Bill Bryson on two wheels' Independent

This book discusses the history of thermal heat generators and focuses on the potential for these processes using micro-electrical mechanical systems (MEMS) technology for this application. The main focus is on the capture of waste thermal energy for example from industrial processes, transport systems or the human body to generate useable electrical power. A wide range of technologies is discussed, including external combustion heat cycles at MEMS ( Brayton, Stirling and Rankine), Thermoacoustic, Shape Memory Alloys (SMAs), Multiferroics, Thermionics, Pyroelectric, Seebeck, Alkali Metal Thermal, Hydride Heat Engine, Johnson Thermo Electrochemical Converters, and the Johnson Electric Heat Pipe.

Tim Moore - indefatigable travelling everyman - switches two wheels for four as he journeys across Trumpland in an original Model T Ford. 'Alarmingly full of incident, very funny - even mildly transformative' Daily Mail Lacking even the most basic mechanical knowhow, Tim Moore sets out to cross Trumpland USA in an original Model T Ford. Armed only with a fan belt made of cotton, wooden wheels and a trunkload of 'wise-ass Limey liberal gumption', his route takes him exclusively through Donald-voting counties, meeting the everyday folks who voted red along the way. He meets a people defined by extraordinary generosity, willing to shift heaven and earth to keep him on the road. And yet, this is clearly a nation in conflict with itself: citizens 'tooling up' in reaction to ever-increasing security fears; a healthcare system creaking to support sugar-loaded soda lovers; a disintegrating rust belt all but forgotten by the warring media and political classes. With his trademark blend of slapstick humour, affable insight and butt-clenching peril, Tim Moore invites us on an unforgettable road trip through America. Buckle up!

'Bill Bryson on two wheels' Independent Scaling a new peak of rash over-ambition, Tim Moore tackles the 9,000km route of the old Iron Curtain on a tiny-wheeled, two-geared East German shopping bike. Asking for trouble and getting it, he sets off at the Arctic winter's brutal height, bullying his plucky MIFA 900 through the endless and massively sub-zero desolation of snowbound Finland. Haunted throughout the journey by the border detritus of watchtowers and rusted razor wire, Moore reflects on the curdling of the Communist dream, and the memories of a Cold War generation reared on the fear of apocalypse - at a time of ratcheting East-West tension. After three months, 20 countries and a 58-degree jaunt up the centigrade scale, man and bike finally wobble up to a Black Sea beach in Bulgaria, older and wiser, but mainly older.

Tim Moore completes his epic (and ill-advised) trilogy of cycling's Grand Tours. Julian Berrendero's victory in the 1941 Vuelta a Espana was an extraordinary exercise in sporting redemption: the Spanish cyclist had just spent 18 months in Franco's concentration camps, punishment for expressing Republican sympathies during the civil war. Seventy nine years later, perennially over-ambitious cyclo-adventurer Tim Moore developed a fascination with Berrendero's story, and having borrowed an old road bike with the great man's name plastered all over it, set off to retrace the 4,409km route of his 1941 triumph - in the midst of a global pandemic. What follows is a tale of brutal heat and lonely roads, of glory, humiliation, and then a bit more humiliation. Along the way Tim recounts the civil war's still-vivid tragedies, and finds the gregarious but impressively responsible locals torn between welcoming their nation's only foreign visitor, and bundling him and his filthy bike into a vat of antiviral gel.

Tim Moore - indefatigable travelling everyman – switches two wheels for four as he journeys across Trumpland in an original Model T Ford.

‘Alarmingly full of incident, very funny – even mildly transformative’ Daily Mail

Lacking even the most basic mechanical knowhow, Tim Moore sets out to cross Trumpland USA in an original Model T Ford. Armed only with a fan belt made of cotton, wooden wheels and a trunkload of ‘wise-ass Limey liberal gumption’, his route takes him exclusively through Donald-voting counties, meeting the everyday folks who voted red along the way.

He meets a people defined by extraordinary generosity, willing to shift heaven and earth to keep him on the road. And yet, this is clearly a nation in conflict with itself: citizens ‘tooling up’ in reaction to ever-increasing security fears; a healthcare system creaking to support sugar-loaded soda lovers; a disintegrating rust belt all but forgotten by the warring media and political classes.

With his trademark blend of slapstick humour, affable insight and butt-clenching peril, Tim Moore invites us on an unforgettable road trip through America. Buckle up!

Ludicrous, heart-warming and improbably inspirational, Spanish Steps is the story of what happens when a rather silly man tries to walk all the way across a very large country, with a very large animal who doesn't really want to. Being larger than a cat, the donkey is the kind of animal Tim Moore is slightly scared of. Yet intrigued by epic accounts of a pilgrimage undertaken by one in three medieval Europeans, and committed to historical authenticity, he finds himself leading a Pyrenean ass named Shinto into Spain, headed for Santiago de Compostela. Over 500 miles of extreme weather and agonising bestial sloth, it becomes memorably apparent that for the multinational band of eccentrics who keep the Santiagan flame alive, the pilgrimage has evolved from a purely devotional undertaking into a mobile therapist's couch. 'Hailed as the new Bill Bryson, he is in fact a writer of considerably more substance and the jokes come thick and fast' Irish Times

‘My idea of tackling one of the world’s most appalling maritime challenges is being able to stand up on a lilo.’

In 1856, the swashbuckling aristocrat Lord Dufferin sailed to Iceland and the Arctic Circle, an adventure that became a bestselling travelogue. A century and a half later, soft suburbanite Tim Moore tried to recreate the celebrated journey with a similar degree of pluck, dignity, and stiff upper lip.

Whilst Dufferin’s battle with icebergs and the elements is a tale of derring-do, Moore’s struggle against seasickness, a clan of Brummie Vikings and terrifying hallucinations involving Clive James is all too plainly one of derring-don’t. As Moore says, ‘Dufferin seems the personification of Kipling’s 'If'. I’m more of a 'But…' man myself.’
 

Tim Moore grew up in Kenya in the early twentieth century, as the son of a bookseller. In his lifetime he saw the change from the Protectorate of the British East Africa to Kenya Colony and then to the independent Republic of Kenya. In 1937 Tim signed up as a clerk at the headquarters of the King's African Rifles; two years later, war broke out. Before long, he found himself policing occupied territories in East Africa, protecting the populace from gangs of armed bandits. After military service Tim joined the Kenya Immigration Department and then became a probation officer, watching the development of Kenya's new probation service from the inside. The book is written in Tim's own words with additional content from his son David and is illustrated with photographs throughout. It gives a first-hand account of operations on a continent sometimes neglected in accounts of the Second World War.

A 3,162 km race. A 48-year-old man. A 100-year-old bike. Made mostly of wood. That he built himself. Tim Moore sets off to recreate the most appalling bike race of all time. The notorious 1914 Giro d'Italia was an ordeal of 400-kilometre stages, cataclysmic night storms and relentless sabotage - all on a diet of raw eggs and red wine. Of the 81 who rolled out of Milan, only eight made it back. Committed to total authenticity, Tim acquires the ruined husk of a gearless, wooden-wheeled 1914 road bike with wine corks for brakes, some maps and an alarming period outfit topped off with a pair of blue-lensed welding goggles. From the Alps to the Adriatic the pair relive the bike race in all its misery and glory, on an adventure that is by turns bold, beautiful and recklessly incompetent.

Tatoetry uses literary devices designed to leave an impression on your mind.

Tatoetry is designed using literary devices to leave an impression on your mind.

Tatoetry uses literary devices designed to leave an impression on your mind.

An odyssey through 2,000 years of filth and fury where the nights were black, the world was your outside toilet and everything tasted faintly of leeks.
In 1989, Tim Moore moved into the last house in Chiswick with an outside toilet. Intrigued by a subsequent encounter with an elderly former resident, and shamed into confessing the phobic haste with which he demolished this facility, he finds himself inspired to travel back to the land before now, experiencing the horny-handed hardships and homespun pleasures enjoyed and endured by Moores gone by.
The journey takes him into the world of historical re-enactment, sitting at the bare and grubby feet of retromaniacs who have seen their future in the past. Living on bramble leaves, Johnny cake and porridge, Moore travels from the Iron Age to the Steam Age. He shares straw beds and daft hats with period obsessives driven by socio-historical curiosity, disillusionment with the pampered fecklessness of the modern world, or a simple nostalgia for campfires, flatulence and brutality.
Along the way he meets living historians for whom authenticity means pulling their own teeth out, and those who stride back through time with a Nokia and a packet of fags stuffed down their codpiece.

'Bill Bryson on two wheels' Independent Self-confessed loafer Tim Moore, seduced by the speed and glamour of the biggest annual sporting event in the world, sets out to cycle the Tour de France. All 3,630km of it. A few weeks before the actual Tour de France, British writer Tim Moore sets out to cycle the course and offers a laugh-out-loud funny and highly entertaining account of how the great ride would feel when embarked on by an amateur. Racing old men on butchers' bikes and being chased by cows, Moore soon resorts to standard race tactics - cheating and drugs - in a hilarious and moving tale of true adventure.

The tradition of the Grand Tour was started in 1608 by an intrepid but down-at-the-heels English courtier named Thomas Coryate, who walked across Europe, miraculously managed to return home in one piece, and wrote a book about his bawdy misadventures. With The Grand Tour, Tim Moore proves not only that he is Coryate's worthy successor but one of the finest and funniest travel writers working today. Armed with a well-thumbed reprint of Coryate's book, Moore donned a purple plush suit and set off in a second-hand and highly temperamental Rolls-Royce through France, Italy, Germany, Switzerland, and Holland. Like Coryate, Moore possesses an astonishing ability to land himself in humiliating predicaments. His account of his hilariously memorable misadventures on Venice's canals on one fateful afternoon is by itself worth the price of admission. Moore brings new life to the Old World and in the process sends readers into paroxysms of laugher and delight.

Would you cheer if they sent you to Coventry? Could you stick up for Stoke or big-up Bracknell? Can you handle the thrill of Rhyl, the heaven of Hull or the mirth of Tydfil? In You are Awful, Tim Moore drives his Austin Maestro round all the places on our beloved island that nobody wants to go to - our most miserable towns, shonkiest hotels, scariest pubs, and silliest sea zoos... But as the soggy, decrepit quest unfolds he finds himself oddly smitten, and the result is a rousing, nostalgic celebration of mad, bad But I Like You Britain.