Another week

Monday 12th March

Birds: not many in evidence, unless you count a couple of pigeons on the parapet while I have my shower at work. Coo, Coo.

Another discarded household object has materialised in the dead of night through a hole in the fabric of space-time.

Today it's a bath, complete with chrome taps, which presumably was innocently minding it's own bathly business before being abducted by aliens and subjected to probing examination. Finally being beamed down here in a bewildered state,
with nothing but a diffuse memory of the intrusive probes and rays which were used to inspect it's molecular structure and intricate plumbing work.

There is no other feasible explanation for its arrival at this desolate spot.

Getting closer to town, plenty of 4x4's all around guzzling gas, while I speed by on my 2x1, oozing smug self righteousness. All together now:

"Two wheels on my wagon, but I'm still rollin' along.
Those Cherokees are after me,
grindin' gears burn my ears,
but I'm singin' a happy song.
I'm a-singin' higgety haggety hoggety high
Pioneers they never say die....(bear with me on this one, it'll be worth it in the end)...
....about a mile down the road there's a hidden cave, and we can watch those Jeep Cherokees gas guzzlin' by."

South-Wester this morning with just a smattering of rain in it. Strong, but not too gusty, and it didn't seem to bother me too much after the success of yesterday's practice run with Georgina. 22 miles of mixed terrain, not bad, we just have to do slightly over 3 times that amount per day, and we're winning.
CORNWALL, BRING IT ON!

Time out: 1.04

Sad news. One of our support team will not be making the journey this summer.
I refer to Bonnie, our lovely 15-year-old Cairn Terrier who is no longer with us. She had not been well since Friday, had a bad day today. Son Matthew gave me a lift back home after work (put bike in back of car) so that I could make it to the vets in time to meet Jacky and Georgina. We reluctantly took the decision to "put her to sleep" as the euphemism goes. She had lost that spark, and it was a very emotional moment. Everyone most upset. We laid her to rest in the garden in the shade of a Hawthorn bush.

Curlewsday 13th March

Sunny as I left the village. It looked almost Mediterranean, but appearances were very deceptive. Patches of frost here and there in the grass bankings. Happy-sad memories of Bonnie whirling round my mind.

Curlews in abundance. A couple of lapwings with voices like Mister Punch (That's the way to) "Doowit" says one, "Doowit" replies t'other. Then the mist descends - well actually I ascend into it, like a Saint going to meet his maker in days of yore. The sun and the mist are playing hide-and-seek. Now you see it now you don't. Glow/no-Glow. Radiate, obfuscate, radiate, obfuscate.

That bath's still there. Except it's been robbed of its taps (probably with the aid of a hammer, as the fibre-glass is all smashed). Not very humane treatment.
A trail of detritus despoils this moorland paradise. PET bottles (a pet bottle is not just for Christmas!). Lager cans. Old computers. The worst offenders are the tyre-dumpers. The punishment I would advocate for them has unfortunately been unavailable to the judiciary since medieval times.

Descending to Halifax, the sun wins the game, and all's well with the world again, despite the strong breeze.

Don't ask me whence came “Theme from the Big Country” going home, and why it metamorphosed into "Celebrate the Bullet" by Selector half way home.

A kid shouted at me "Mr. you've dropped a piece of paper from your bag". Clearly a little joke designed to make me stop and fumble. I cycled on thinking I might stop and fumble round the next bend, where they couldn't see me and snigger. Then, seeing some other urchins further on made me postpone the stopping and fumbling until I'd well and truly forgotten the purpose of said stopping and fumbling exercise. Keep on keeping on!

Time out: 1.02
Time return: 1.10 (via Flappit)

Wednesday 14th March

Similar weather to yesterday, but the sun lost the game today. Should have put Polaris head warmer on, but didn't.

Going up "Mr Big", I saw a bird of prey which looked slightly larger than a Kestrel. Not buzzard size, mind you, nor hovering like a kestrel. It alighted on a pole half-way up the hill, and waited for me to approach. Then just as I thought I might get a good look, it was off, veering in a big circle off to my right, and behind me. Naturally I had to stop to watch it go. Bit of a struggle getting started on the steep bit again.

I have decided rightly or wrongly that it was a Peregrine Falcon.
Not to be confused with Mr. Spock's ears, which are Neoprene Vulcan.
Or maybe it was a vulture waiting for me to provide its luncheon.

(I need one more contrived rhyme to make this into a McGonagall poem, or rap as they're called nowadays).

Maybe I'm imagining it, but these past few mornings it always seems to be Rapunzel 2 who turns up when I go to shower. Perhaps I've offended Rapunzel somehow? Something I said? Some lack of politeness? Rapunzel 2 seems a little curt in her pronouncements too. "Pleathe thelect your floor." indeed. Maybe the one-dimensional existence is getting to the two of 'em?.

Tune for today: Babooshka by Kate Bush.

Time out: 1.01

Left work a little later than usual and tried to make up time by putting some extra effort in. Was passed by a faster fitter cyclist. Tried to catch him. Bad move! I completely blew, with a bad case of the 'Bonk'. Beware the Bonk, for 'tis a 3-'eaded beast: Dizzy in the head, legs like lead, feel half-dead.
Had a stop for an energy bar and drink, and made a cautious re-start. Not sure if the theme tune from Dallas helped, but that's what was rolling round my head.

Time Return: Do I look bovvered? You're not bovvered, I'm not bovvered. We're NOT BOVVERED!