Not so Slow Cycling

We have been battling with bank helplines all morning, trying to persuade the ones that have changed our address that moving house is not in itself sufficiently suspicious to warrant freezing our accounts, and trying to persuade those that haven’t changed our address yet that they might like to. ‘Oops,’ said the friendly young man I spoke to on one, ‘looks like somebody pressed the wrong button there.’ And these are the people we’re entrusting our money to…

But the sun was still, inexplicably shining* and so we decided to stop pressing 2 if it was a savings account and 3 if it was to inform them of a change of address, followed by #9 if we wanted to be promised the chance to speak to a human only to be cut off after 20 minutes of europop, and get ourselves out on our bikes. And oh what a ride it was. Down through the shade of the trees and out onto the rolling empty lanes. Up, up, up past the reservoir and a few scattered picnickers. Over the cattle grid and suddenly into different country altogether: moorland, empty of everything but sheep and the little local cattle, the closest that cows get to panda bears. We pause at the top of the climb, mostly so I can catch up, and admire the view. Then it’s down, gingerly, round switchback turns on a loose-chip road surface, using the whole width of the road. There are no cars, no people, just birds flying out of our path. Then a long roll back into the gentler countryside, and the dotted white cottages and farms, and the cool shade of the trees once more. It’s the perfect circular ride, uphill out and downhill back, and – in the words of the Highway Cycling Group – home in time for tea.

It’s costing us a lot to live here, if you count in the lost earnings from our London jobs. One of the reasons we’re battling with the banks is to maximise our savings so we can afford to do it as long as we can. On days like today, on rides like that, it’s worth every penny.

*Moments after posting yesterday’s entry, the clouds gathered and a few drops of rain fell – just enough to show that the weather gods were listening & that they were still in charge. Fortunately it was just a warning shot across my bows and abnormal service has since resumed.