The Fala Toll Road.

Al and myself aim to go out for a ride every four weeks or so but this was our first excursion since 2012. Life has a habit of getting in the way of the best laid plans. We are, neither of us, fair weather cyclists, if we were we wouldn’t have gone out, the drizzle was a nuisance for most of the day, particularly as we were going over the Meldons; equally, we’re neither of us as fit as we would like to be, but then we always say that.
The next ride is now arranged for four weeks hence.

We stopped in Peebles for lunch, I’ll have to try and put an end to that habit; the eating houses there seem to serve up reasonable curries, but I can’t eat them, and nothing else that exactly stimulates the palate. The place we ate at today has changed hands since we last patronised it and my chicken pie was dry and tasteless. I don’t know how to do that to a chicken unless it died of old age.
There is a recipe for cooking old fowl: you put it in a pan with a pebble, cover it with water and bring it to a gentle simmer, topping up with water as and when necessary. When the pebble is soft, the fowl needs another hour or two.

The blip is from the Fala Toll Road that goes from the Fala Toll (honestly) to Gorebridge, it was right by a house that has a few dozen scrawny chickens in the back yard; I wonder if there’s a connection.

I posted yesterday's, "The Old Rosslyn Inn" about an hour ago.