I don’t seem to have any ill effects from the weekend, all my race wounds seem to have healed themselves, so I decide that I best start my training for the Cheshire Cat Sportive, which is... err let me see... 6 days away. Loads of time. So I cycle in to work.
The results are already up on the website for Saturday’s mud fest, along with an apology "to those affected by marshals leaving their posts to deal with the major helicopter rescue incident." Hope the person concerned is ok.
My colleague, who is also on his bike today, seems to want to avoid pacing me home. He takes his chance to escape whilst the going is good, as I pump my rear tyre back up. I have a slow puncture there. I really must stop slacking and fit my new tyres and tubes before the situation gets worse. Luckily I’m not doing the Cat on this bike. Talking of which I ought to check that bike out as well. It doesn’t look as if its copped for any collateral damage from one of the many teenage parties but I still ought to check.
On the way home it’s time for Cycling Close Shave Of The Year Number 342 (or something). Today’s near miss involves a couple of old women leaning on their walking sticks and chatting by the zebra crossing. Are they waiting to cross or are they just loitering with intent to gossip? It is hard to tell. They don’t seem to notice that every car is slowing down in case they attempt to cross before speeding up again when neither of them moves. It’s not unknown for an OAP to leap out on to a crossing at a moment’s notice. I eye them cautiously as I pass but they seem routed to the spot until one of their sticks twitches at bit. I slow down but I think she was just gesturing to make a point in their conversation.
The usual dog training and tinkering with my father’s computer in the evening. Tinkering with my father’s computer is becoming an all too frequent an occurrence and almost as regular as my training is but far less successful.