With the boy getting perkier but still slightly restricted from normal activities in case there are any pregnant women who haven't had chickenpox around I thought it would be a good time to take him for a trundle over the bridge to Fife to let the fresh air dry out some of his pockles. Despite being excited to see the bike (including grabbing the chain when I was fitting the sensor and computer-mount) and even more excited to see his seat (wailing when it was put back away until the rain stopped) he promptly went to sleep five minutes out of the door, waking up just as I was stopping to see if a bloke had everything he needed to fix his puncture. Whilst removing a spiky chunk of metal from his tyre he mentioned the Dalmeny Estate roads, which I occasionally read about when people are griping about the state of the Death Star Trench path beside the A90 but which I'd never tried. Thinking that fields would be better than speeding traffic for the wingpiglet to observe I tried the paths, but shortly ended up with my own puncture due to the inferior tyres on the sparebike, though the fatter tyres would have made the journey over the ruts, pot-holes and gravel easier for me and pleasanter for the passenger than the same journey on the puncture-proof bike would have been. I tried to get everything fixed whilst Edgar was still strapped in the detached seat but the limited food and large amounts of investigatable things nearby (including a BIG BOAT heading out from beneath the bridges) meant that everything had to be done in short bursts in between running off and recapturing. We never made it to the bridge as I thought it wise to go straight home as he was refusing to stay still to get his nappy changed and resisted being put back in the seat (and I don't want to force him as I don't want him being put off going on the bike) and he doesn't walk very fast or very directly and wanted to be carried a fair bit, which was immense fun when there was a bike to be pushed in one hand. He started wailing going back through Trinity (suspiciously shortly after we passed the bloke who I'd previously helped before I knew him to be a puncture faerie) and had to be carried again until he finally acquiesced to be bribed back into the seat with a snack. The final count was 23.74 miles, at least two of which were walked. Definitely sufficient exercise for the day considering the extra load, but disappointing to not get to the target destination, which is perhaps a job for next Sunday.