A brief glimpse of sunshine and absence of showers this morning tempted me out on my bike without (gasp) my gloves and even (sharp intake of breath) my hat. Well, all right, the gloves were in my pocket, I’m not completely mad. It is July, you know.
All went well until I got to Buzzard Corner and then I heard the ominous noise of an enraged mama buzzard who had spotted me and wasn’t happy. Since the first day when I felt the swipe of her talons she hasn’t given me too much trouble, but this time – although she didn’t actually make contact – she clearly meant business. There’s something very scary about seeing the shadow of a bird of prey swooping along the road and closing in on your own shadow on the bike. Any commenter who suggested slowing down or stopping at this point – well, that’s easy to say when you’re sitting at their keyboards with a great big roof over your head, frankly.
So what’s changed? The only difference that I can see is that I wasn’t wearing my hat, just like the last time when it was too windy to risk it. So clearly (as one commenter pointed out last time we were troubled by buzzards) my hairstyle must resemble a squashed rabbit. Cheers, guys.
Of course, scary as it was, it was still preferable to the moment half a mile up the road where a courier driver – clearly more intent on what the Sat Nav lady was saying to him than what he could see through his windscreen if only he had been looking – attempted to turn into a driveway just as I was crossing it. It takes a special kind of genius to almost hit a bike on a road so empty that you, the bike, and an angry buzzard are about the only things moving for miles around.