Attacked

The first email of the day from L isn't entitled 'Good Morning'. This is, she says, because it is such a hypocritical statement. Oh Dear. This doesn't bode well.

I'm sure she wouldn't be on a downer about mornings if she'd cycled to work in the beautiful sunshine and had exchanged pleasantries with as many of my friendly comrades (the motorists) as I had. Yes I'm on the bike today. In fact no one tried to knock me off at all today but a poor chap on a zebra crossing nearly wasn't so lucky. I really must get my brakes sorted.

Avoiding the 'M' word, I tentatively enquire as to how the first segment of her day was. She describes it as 'Carcinogenic' which sounds a bundle of laughs.

I've decided against the Saddleworth triathlon next week. The journey is probably just too far to be worthwhile particularly as the bike course is an out and back along an 'A road' and looks a tad dull, if hilly. So that's probably it for triathlons for the season. So I could even give up the swimming for six months and save myself those 'drowning' nightmares.

Instead I may return to my former 'worst' sport - orienteering, and attempt the Lincoln Street O event. Might even be able to tempt L. Now do I go for the full 8k event or opt for the 'veterans' event, a miserly 5k. Yep folks, the least satisfied members of society, us blokes over 40, the ones imminently, if not already, over that hill, can now enter events as 'veterans'. Oh the shame. Oh the opportunities...

In fact, I notice that's there's now a series of these street events, six this year with more possible for next year. Now there's a thought.

I cycle home the long route via Kegworth and Clifton. Very pleasant. One of the best bits is cycling down the lane that bypasses the M1 Junction. It's not the official cycle route, although it should be, the official route makes you cross the M1 junction. There's logic for you. The lane also appears to provide several nice secluded spots for a bit of 'sport'. I've often seen cars parked there but no one in them. Today however a female occupant appears to be giving the driver of one of these cars a full MOT in one of the pull-ins. She'd probably be horrified if she'd noticed how many cyclists pass this way but I think she was too busy. The chap noticed me passing but he'd just got a smile on his face and obviously didn't care. I push on. Hoping to do some servicing of my own when I get home.

The rest of the ride goes well until I'm cycling along the ring road, nearly home, when I am suddenly attacked. It feels like something has stuck a knife in my side or perhaps I've been shot. I resist the temptation to stop and check the damage. Instead I push on home so that if I collapse at least someone will know about it.

At home, the dog offers no sympathy, in fact barely a greeting from him as he sits by his ball, waiting for it to move. L is a little more concerned, at least she is when I show her my wound. So it must be quite impressive although it appears that I have been bit and not stabbed or shot.

I mistakenly assume that L has stayed in her lycra shorts as a sexual tease to me, when really she's hoping I'll take her out for a run. I had offered to do this. Easy mistake to make but not pointed out to me until it was too late.

So no run but we do amble to the Victoria and have an excellent beer night. Full Mash 4.3%, Jaipur 5.9%, Grantham Stout 4.5% and Broadside 4.8%.

Home for late food.