The weather has been all over the place. Two weeks ago I reported minus 1 degree when I hit the road. Last week we had full-blown summer with temperatures around 24 degrees and yesterday (Sunday 28 April) we were back to cold and blustery conditions. There was, of course, storm Hannah on Saturday, but that didn't really bother us, although Andy reported a windy ride (I aborted).
I nearly aborted Sunday's ride too. When I woke up and peered outside it was raining so I attempted to rattle off an abort text to Andy, but the phone ran out of power. Once I'd charged it up the rain had stopped and it was game on, although I could have done with going back to bed, I'd had a busy week of decorating the hallway and running around all over the place. A lie-in would have been nice, but, as always, I was glad to be out in the fresh air.
We decided to head for Tatsfield Village, the slow way, but I forgot and when we reached the bus stop, purely out of habit, I pulled over and stopped. We decided to stay put.
The main topic of conversation today was the abundance of wankers everywhere in the UK, nobcheeses, idiots, arseholes, whatever you want to call them; they're on virtually every street corner. There are bad drivers on our roads, bad neighbours, poor politicians, sharky landlords, fat bastard bankers, fat cat cunts, they've left no stone unturned in their quest for world domination.
On the return journey, Andy branched off at The Ridge and I almost followed him, but decided to ride along the 269 into Warlingham and then home. I'd brought my padlock along with me because I'd intended to stop at the store to pick up some porridge (Flahavan's Irish multi-seed variety, it's the best) but after stopping and padlocking the bike against a post (it was 0937hrs) I remembered that the shop opened at 1000hrs. Somehow waiting around for 20 minutes was wrong on so many levels so I headed home, but returned later in the car.
I nearly aborted Sunday's ride too. When I woke up and peered outside it was raining so I attempted to rattle off an abort text to Andy, but the phone ran out of power. Once I'd charged it up the rain had stopped and it was game on, although I could have done with going back to bed, I'd had a busy week of decorating the hallway and running around all over the place. A lie-in would have been nice, but, as always, I was glad to be out in the fresh air.
 |
| Our bikes surrounded by bluebells south of Warlingham Sainsbury's |
We decided to head for Tatsfield Village, the slow way, but I forgot and when we reached the bus stop, purely out of habit, I pulled over and stopped. We decided to stay put.
The main topic of conversation today was the abundance of wankers everywhere in the UK, nobcheeses, idiots, arseholes, whatever you want to call them; they're on virtually every street corner. There are bad drivers on our roads, bad neighbours, poor politicians, sharky landlords, fat bastard bankers, fat cat cunts, they've left no stone unturned in their quest for world domination.
On the return journey, Andy branched off at The Ridge and I almost followed him, but decided to ride along the 269 into Warlingham and then home. I'd brought my padlock along with me because I'd intended to stop at the store to pick up some porridge (Flahavan's Irish multi-seed variety, it's the best) but after stopping and padlocking the bike against a post (it was 0937hrs) I remembered that the shop opened at 1000hrs. Somehow waiting around for 20 minutes was wrong on so many levels so I headed home, but returned later in the car.
