Very heavy rain as I write. Good, let’s see whether the gutters feed the newly installed water butt properly.
England is a dirty place: With the vegetation at its annual lowest point right now, you can easily see through sparse hedgerows, grassy banks and ditches, and in all of it; on every lane, however far from towns, is rubbish. At its thinnest, you only see beer cans and McDonald’s wrappers every yard or so. I suppose, being generous, that some must be wind-blown litter, perhaps blown from uncapped bins. Riding along you can see some lanes have extra gatherings in places where there is some shelter- ditches, or maybe under a big tree. But, in openings, such as gateways, there can sometimes be seen a television set here, a flat-pack and old mattress there. Fly tipping. What is the motive for dumping this stuff- it’s not money: the car is loaded with junk, the council tip is paid-for in advance and the effort to drive to a gateway is the same as driving to a tip. So, it’s not laziness then, but what is it? Why do it?
I can see I need to work on commas in that passage.
At last; a decent, satisfying ride. The last ten felt like I was on the 100th mile ( and yes I do know what that feels like). took some photos on the phone, but can’t unload them for a few days yet. You’ll have to just wait.
Another long day, this one started at 5am.
Slow journey to work today, it was very dry so I decided to ride. There were a few stretches where I had to get off and run it where the ice was sprayed over the road from broken manhole covers.
Rab tells me her story, well my story but my memory eludes me of those fifteen minutes on the 10th that I can’t account for. I was indeed out cold, I had blankets put over me, maybe over my head (this bit I struggle to believe). I must have been out for a while rather than staggering about with amnesia. Then I got up, or tried to. After falling back to the tarmac, I got up enough to be assisted to the opposite footpath where I sat myself.
Strange, strange memorys. The thought of losing that time is quite unsettling, I’ve not had anything to compare in my life before.
The Kite Runner: tonight’s excellent film.
The worst ride to work yet. Involved a severe deflection by a lorry, a tarmac bounce and later, stitches. Parts the collision I can’t remember, there are two gaps in my memory and since, I have been behaving like a dopey person. Later I find out the damage to my bike, it’s being brought back as I write.
This must have taken some time to build up. Ice on a hedgerow that froze each time a car splashed in this puddle.
Got home slightly cold, but warming up from a long time in the cold takes ages.
Still struggling with bad gear-changes; 2 for & 1 back all the time. Maybe (as suggested) it’s the jockey wheels. They’re cheap to replace.
After so long bleating about a lack of exercise, I have bought a turbo-trainer for the bike. It works well enough during the 1h 10′ session I had today.
NE winds brought light showers from the North Sea today. This new fleece long sleeve shirt did the trick- no chills for me. I have ot recommend this stuff, even when wet, it’s warm in the way that woollen shirts are.Weather like this is great for rainbows- even in the middle of the day- possible because the sun is still quite low.
Today has the earliest sunset of the year.
Somewhere near Packington, Leicestershire.
9°C, showers, clammy
You can work out what’s wrong with the title.
Fine morning to unblock a stinking drain. The overspill left a layer of slimy mud below the window which must have been teeming with life. My guess is there were algae living in it along with the inevitable fungi. Further along the food chain were a growing family of slugs, looking like miniature gherkins. They were so happy. The fungi spent their time making the rotten newspaper smell, and the jelly-like clear slimes- what were they. Or maybe not; times like this I need an expert in microscopic-smelly-lifeforms.
All wet and shiny clean now.
A day to be confused by stuff that people write. Go away, sit in a quiet dark room and and think really hard.
In lanes like these:
This was the scene, nearly home, only 10 miles to go in Seckington.
