nonsenses & truths

By sloeburn

Road blurgh

I was going to write something poetic about riding. How there are times when every pedal stroke is an effort and you are just crawling along. About the other times when it is almost effortless, swooping around corners, rolling down gentle slopes freewheeling forever. Birds in the sky, you know how I feel.

But I got home at quarter to nine, in time for a Skype appointment (exciting in itself as I have managed to get this far in life without using it before), to find that I didn't have my house keys. The least worse possibility was that I had left them at work, which proved to be the case, but did mean that I had to cycle back to the office and then home again. I'm sure the extra 10 miles haven't done me any harm, and I really couldn't have asked for a nicer evening to be cruising around. Still, warm, quiet, dusk.

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