In an effort to try and get a bit more exercise, I went out and purchased a bicycle on Saturday…and rode it earlier today.
You can’t see me (thankfully) but I’m sitting very still, and moving only when absolutely necessary, and then in a curiously slow and jerky manner – rather like a bad stop-motion film.
The pink has faded from the face, but I’m still somewhat traumatised. At one point I seriously expected to see my heart burst alien-like from my chest…it’s not the sort of thing one soon forgets, I can tell you. The shame of realising how woefully out of shape I have become will also linger for a fair while, I suspect.
Hard to tell whether it will be sufficient spur me on to further attempts on the tour de….well, anywhere, really. Perhaps some kind of Heath-Robinson-like contrivance that dangles a bottle of beer just out of my reach ?
All this has it’s lighter side, of course. The spectacle of the idiot Allan wrestling a recalcitrant bike up the final flight of stairs into the flat is doubtless one that would gladden the hearts of all who witness it. I may be selling tickets for future performances.
My fine new steed is resting in the bathroom (where else?)
But I feel it only fair to warn any fellow road-users in the general vicinity, of the possibility of encountering a wildly veering, pink-faced maniac at random intervals. That strange rushing noise is the creature gasping, by the way. Do not, under any circumstances, cause it to have to stop – there’s a very good chance it may never move again.
Happy trails everyone !