I was hoping for something a bit more Shed Seven but instead I ended up with Justin Currie’s lament to misfortune as the earworm for tonight’s trip around the lanes. Credit where credit is due, as my counsellor has instilled in me that I do, I managed to get out on the bike this evening, which is a marked improvement in last week’s sorry excuses. Yet in the time from getting home from work, having a quick snack, passing the time of day with Mrs AB (who is ecited about the Robin chicks in the shed) and change into my kit, the sky turned from overcast but bright to looming and grey. Not to be defeated by acts of God I took the plunge (probably the wrong expression given what comes soon) and cycled off. By Pattingham the view wasn’t promising and neither the Wrekin nor Brown Clee were visible in the distance. Fearing the worst I took a change of route an edged along the incoming doom, hence the wish for the clouds to go and rain on some other sucker’s parade (or “training” ride). My tactic paid off until a mile and a half from home – the heaven’s opened and I was soaked to the skin in less than a few pedal strokes.
But looking on the bright side, I got 16 miles under my belt and the rain is great for the allotment meaning I haven’t had to take the daily trip down there and the relay of trips to the stand pipe to fill copious water cans. Every cloud as they say. Next time I’ll be just like a man. (That’s it with the Del Amitri I promise.)