… when I’ve been totally frustrated at not being able to get on my bike. Today, it is safe to say, was not one of them. Something about being woken by the sound of the pouring rain, the view all but obscured by it, made being stuck in the kitchen by the Rayburn all day a rather welcome prospect.
Well, not quite all day, because there was obviously hydrological engineering to be done. Exciting coonsil drainage works or no coonsil drainage works, nothing quite blocks a drain like fallen leaves so there were plenty of opportunities to go out and do important poking things with a stick (and the rather less enjoyable reaching into freezing cold water to hoick out handfuls of leaves).
I suppose you could argue that it would be better if the coonsil came along and cleared out its drains regularly after all that is what we pay them for, harumph harumph, but to be honest, where’s the fun in that?* Because there’s nothing quite so satisfying as the satisfaction of hoicking out a final handful of leaves and hearing the gurgling sound that signals that the flooded road is about to empty itself like a giant bath.
That said, there’s nothing like an inconsiderate quarry lorry passing too fast and sluicing you with the last of the water to rather take the shine off it.
Intensive negotiations with the other half have resulted in me being allowed to try a bit of gentle cycling tomorrow and resume the trip down to Papershop Village on Friday. Weather Gods permitting, that is.
Oh and the ford?
I thought you’d never ask.
*unless they bring their big yellow digger