I thought I’d remind my bike who I was today. We’ve seen too little of each other of late for one reason or another, not least of which being college, over-due coursework & toes of the ‘energy leaking forever out’ variety.
The sun came out which seemed like an omen of the right sort. Naturally it had hidden itself behind a shield of grey by the time we got ourselves sorted, I’d coaxed glove liners and shoes from various hiding places and done all the usual pre-ride faff. It was a strange ride, not entirely a bad one but a strange one nonetheless. My heart was pleased to be pedaling. My legs weren’t entirely displeased but they huffed up the hills and gave me resigned looks whilst they struggled with the Chiltern slopfest and too many of the ‘oh that puddle’s quite deep then’ moments. My circulation trudged round slowly trying to work out what it was supposed to be doing, which wasn’t much on the energy front. We plodded on watching tortoises on zimer-frames make short work of the mud n’ puddles.
And then there were the things… It started with a trail of pristine, white, cushions in the middle of the road as I climbed out of the village. Each one carefully placed on the verge so as not to frighten passing cars. It ended with an ostrich. In between I had row with a man in an anorak armed with an alsation, ate cake mix (possibly not the best idea as my Mother’s approach to ‘it’s a bit dry’ was another pint of brandy), had a chat with the police, drank a gallon or two of tea, procrastinated lots (it was cold out there) borrowed my Mother’s clothes then remembered that you warm up when you do pedal even if it’s slowly (sweaty mess). It finished in the dark. Just me a petzel, a bucket of soapy water and the bike, alone together in the glooming. The way it should be.
When’s summer?
