Whatever that means
Not as glamorous as Route 66 but Route 66 is from Kingston upon Hull to Manchester and the kicks are to be had at the branch to Ashton under Lyme. So I’m told.
It’s one of those odd places where, unless you’d noticed the small sign on the pole, you’d scowl at those cheeky cycling hoodlums on the pavement cutting through from Charlotte Square to Queensferry Street, terrorising pensioners and scaring the horses. So, I always feel a little guilty even though I’m perfectly entitled to be there.
Other than that it was a slightly chilly pedal this morning and a somewhat circusy pedal back once my wheel had decided that my truing skills weren’t up to the job. I think the problem is that yesterday’s puncture was caused by a long spoke finally pushing its way through the rim tape and into the tube. I worked that out on the third repair job. I tried to fix the spokes by truing the wheel with more slackening than tightening of spokes. Grrr.
Today’s other total lack of excitement was provided by a meeting in Glasgow where someone presented on the key parts of a document everyone had received and read in preparation for the meeting. The presentation consisted of reading out the slides she had prepared, which everyone had received when they came in and read while they drank the tepid “coffee”. That’s three hours that not only will I not get back, I won’t get to charge anyone for them either. Didn’t even get a visit to the Apple Store.
* Wonkiness abounds. It’s more a question of which thing you decide should be straight. They can’t all be vertical!”