… than deciding something’s absolutely impossible, and then seeing someone doing it.
I woke up in a slightly better mood this morning (I was a bit grumpy yesterday, wasn’t I?) We’d escaped the promised heavy snow, and got a light icing-sugar dusting instead, plus bright sunshine and blue skies and everything all sparkling again. And, even though all of the schools in the county are closed, due to it being a bit nippy, the gritter lorry has been! And the bin men! We went out for a walk – playing spot the piece of grit; they haven’t exactly been lavish with it, understandably – and we could actually walk instead of stagger. We had got as far as the Cottage-that-sells-eggs and turned back into the biting wind when what did we see coming down the icy hill, but a cyclist. He was doing all right too – not moving all that fast, and with a look of absolute concentration on his face, but he seemed to have all of his limbs intact, and he wasn’t on particularly knobbly tyres either.
I still think that, taking everything into account, and given the amount of ruts and black ice around, he’s insane. But maybe, just maybe, if the gritters come around again, and it doesn’t snow too much and it doesn’t freeze too hard again and the sun stays out, I might get back onto the bike. After all, I’ve got some lovely new merino base layers* to play with.
* ‘Oh, you mean a vest,’ as my mum said, when I explained what I wanted for Christmas…