Whatever that means
The Brooks is on the bike and had its first outing today. I thought it would need more breaking in and that I’d get to work all hirpling and arse-knackered but there was only the merest suggestion of the agonies that are reputed to afflict the Brooks inductee.
Must’ve been feeling good today because I made it to the top of Cardiac Hill without getting off and pushing, which is always a nice sign of progress although it did mean that rolling down the other side I was panting like a dog and, with mouth open and gasping, I was catching a free breakfast of small green things and slightly larger brown things. Only swallowed a few.
As you can see, as I passed the wheat field the sun had broken through the cloud from the east although the sky was still an ominous dark blue to the north and west. Still, wasn’t worried. On the way back from Glasgow we’d stopped off at Decathlon, purveyor of cheap sports gear, where I’d picked up a waterproof cycling jacket for a measly £15.Nothing Gore Tex or breathable but long in the arms, low at the bum and round at the belly, which isn’t a combination I can normally find in cycling shops. The place was also crowded with people filling trolleys with cheap popup tents and inadequate sleeping bags that they’ll place on the slabs of cold air provided by their thin air beds. I can’t help feeling that many of these people are going to have a very cold and miserable introduction to the joys of camping in a Scottish summer.
Anyway, point is, I left the house late, took photos along the way and still arrived in Edinburgh just 5 minutes later than I would have done if I’d taken public transport the whole way. I’ve said it before but there’s something badly wrong with a public transport system that can be nearly beaten by a fat bloke on a bike.
I liked the wee ear of barley sticking up above the others. Reminds me a wee bit of the cover for Depeche Mode’s 1982 album A Broken Frame although without the woman with the sickle. Christ, 1982. How ancient is that?