After a fortnight on a borrowed bike, getting back to my own was almost as good as getting back to my own bed (in fact better, as it was so bloody freezing when I got into bed last night I found myself shivering uncontrollably even with a hot water bottle. Whose idiotic idea was it to turn off the Rayburn on the flimsy grounds that it would be June when we got back from the States?*). It felt a little skittery for the first few hundred yards – although whether that was the effect of switching from a weighty hybrid with knobbly tyres, or just general high spirits on the bike’s part after two weeks in a shed, I don’t know.
It was good to be back on the old papershop run too, even though the traffic was terrible (I adopted the correct procedure for allowing cows to pass me and with a bit of eye rolling they made it past), and ASBO buzzard did a few warning traverses as I crossed into its territory, although without actually attacking.
The bluebells are still going strong (the first rule of bluebell woods is you don’t try and take photographs of bluebell woods because you will be disappointed by the results but I couldn’t resist).
The may is out although it’s still a bit nippy for any over-enthusiastic clout casting.
And when I was riding home from Bigtown this evening I had to keep stopping to take photos because it was just so lovely.
Oh all right, the fierce headwind might have had something to do with it as well…
Rather less lovely was the horrifically road-killed deer that’s festering half way down the road to the village. I did take a picture, but it’s too grim to post. Normally any deer get scooped up for venison pretty quick but this was clearly too mangled. Drivers, please slow down on rural roads, even if you don’t care about me you surely don’t want to hit Bambi…