As charged

I feel so guilty.  Such neglect.  After last Wednesday night's bike ride I have done very little.  Well, to be fair, I have cleaned the mountain bike, pumped up its tyres and oiled its chain, even sparing a little lube for the hybrid ... just because I could.  But somehow I have failed to get out on the bike at all ever since.

It's a litany of excuses which make me blench slightly.

• Thursday - Oh, I won't cycle to work because I'm going to cycle to the Lowry tonight to go to the Roger McGough performance. 
• Thursday evening - don't feel like cycling.  Won't.
• Friday - Oh, I won't cycle to work because I'm going straight from work to the Take That concert which doesn't finish until late and I'm worried about leaving the bike somewhere safe all that time ...
• Saturday - Oh, I've got a naughty girl letter from the council about my allotment, best I prioritise that over the bike.
• Sunday was a classic.  Sunday, bike outside house, Jason and his bike outside the house, all looking very promising indeed.  I shut the door.  Jason asks do you have your house keys.  I say yes, check my pocket and imagine a look of horror came over my face.  Locked out without house keys, his spare set and my set both inside.  Dammit.  Efforts instead went into sorting out how to access my home, ending up both bikes wheels off, and in Jason's car (thankfully he did have his car keys), and travelling to the other side of town to acquire the spare set from my guinea pig sitter.  Got home feeling drained,  humiliated ... oh, and it started raining.
• Monday, I don't think I even bothered to find an excuse.
• Tuesday the weather forecast for this afternoon looks horrid.

So there we go, take a bow, the queen of excuses.