I wasn’t going to cycle anywhere today, what with wanting to break myself in gently and the fact that it was raining solidly for most of the morning. But then I felt the tickle of an oncoming cold and knew I’d have to go out – and the miserabler the weather the better, for there’s nothing that sees off a cold as reliably as a damp bike ride, for reasons which medical science will surely come to understand sooner or later. Whether a drizzly half-hour pootle along the river and back (supplemented by a spot of drain clearing) will have done the trick, I don’t know. Either way, at least whatever Dreadful Thing I was supposed to avoid by not cycling for another six days has so far failed to materialise. Tomorrow, papershop village, or bust. Perhaps literally.