It's rained all day today. When I awoke this morning around 5am and toyed with the idea of aborting the ride (due to a spot of book-editing that needed to be done) little did I know that, had I waited a few hours, the rain would have aborted the ride for me...and my 'cred' would have remained intact. There's something a bit naff about aborting; it's like bottling out, being a wimp or a spoilsport, but if the weather does it for you, that's okay, it's not your fault.
Andy's cred was intact. He got as far as his garage before it rained and he decided not to bother. Me? Well, it was touch and go as to whether I'd be going due to my workload, but perhaps I was a little too keen to send that text. Still, it's all water under the bridge. I didn't go, nor did Andy. We'll resume again next week.
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| RAF Parade Shoes - nothing like mine, which I bought at Clark's. |
Later in the day I found myself driving, in the driving rain down Titsey Hill (to pick up my wife, daughter and mother-in-law from the cinema in Oxted). The rain was relentless and I resolved not to come back up Titsey with a fully-loaded car. Instead, I drove along the A25 to Westerham and came up the hill from there. It's a less steep hill, something I only knew because of cycling. The week before last, as avid readers will recall, Andy and I pedalled up Titsey Hill and I even tried to race a jogger who just pipped me at the post. Such exertion might (and I stress that word 'might') have been responsible for my foot injury, although I'm not sure.
Talking of that foot injury. I went to seek out a new pair of shoes yesterday and discovered in the process that, for many years, probably since I joined adulthood, I've been wearing a size 44 (size 10) when I should have been wearing, wait for it, a size eight and a half! How can that be? It's true, though, and I'm now the proud owner of a new and smaller pair of shoes.
Better hit the sack. The foot, by the way, is much better. I can walk again, put it that way.
