No, the bike is not my best friend. Did something very weird last week and went out to "play" on the hybrid. A delayed departure from home in the evening led me to go oh what the hell, let's do something that just involves getting out of the front door, no time to pack up and head for the hills. So playtime. Unusually. On the hybrid. There was a cunning plan. It went something like ride on the road, up a hill or two, find the sustrans route and crack on towards the Irwell sculpture Park where you will wing it and work out later how to get home.
Which started well. Roads worked, and miraculously nobody got lost. Arrived at the entrance to the trail and eyed up the sign posts in a vague attempt to stick with cycle legal paths. Gave up. Rode anyway. But apparently damp luke warm evenings alongside rivers with dappled shade provided by trees has a horrible side effect. Midges. And it wasn't the biting which was the problem, it was the hailstone like effect of riding through the clouds. Before long I was managing to cycle with my head down, eyes closed, mouth closed and not breathing through my nose for fear of taking the little devils on board. And they hurt as they came in through the helmet vents and bounced off my chin and my neck and down my t-shirt and apparently also inside my bra. Little perishers were horrible, and this is why you shouldn't ride on footpaths ...
And because my longest serving friend in the world is in hospital right now, this song is traipsing around my head:
In rain or shine
You've stood by me girl
I'm happy at home
You're my best friend
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