As luck will have it (see yesterday's blog for how luck may apply to you), I get to see how well my re-vamped cycle handles in the wet this morning. When I leave home, the sky is mostly that bright shade of blue you find on certain Amazonian butterflies and is just as elusive at this time of year. (Once again, see yesterday's blog for a taster about the subject.) The only clouds are streaks left over from being ripped about by the wind last night and the low sun occasionally blinds me to what is ahead. The puddles should be a warning.
A little under an hour later, at the very point I am furthest from home, I round a corner at Falkenham to see what awaits me on the return leg. On the horizon is a wall of slate grey rapidly heading in my direction, proceeded by an iridescent rainbow. However beautiful this may be – and it surely is – I ignore it and concentrate instead on the fact that I haven't brought any waterproof clothing with me. I cycle on, my laugh still echoing down the lane. And I have a loud laugh.
Fifteen minutes later and I am standing by the side of the road under an oak eating a bar of compressed cranberries, various nuts and cereal. I am already soaking wet and only pause beneath the tree as I intend to wash down the food with a swig from my water bottle, rather than a mouth-full of rain. Bizarrely, I don't really care about the inclement weather – I'm spending the time wondering how much I should tweak the bike to reduce its tendency to fall into corners. Everything, of course, is a question of balance.
It then becomes a race to get home to a hot bath in between cloudbursts before I begin to wonder how to spell pneumonia.
Thirty minutes after the bath and I am writing, once again, an erotic piece of prose. I haven't read Fifty Shades of Grey, so cannot comment on whether it is written to engender erotic feelings, rather than those which might be considered aesthetic or emotional, but sex has the ability to sell. And if it's pertinent to the plot, well, I got all my shyness out of the way between the ages of thirteen and fifteen. I've been laughing loudly ever since.
And I'm looking into buying some decent wet-weather cycling gear ...
Try not to do the stupid things stupid people do.