Musings, Riding

A spring evening’s bimble, being scared and perspective.

I fancied a ride this evening.  It’s spring.  It’s light.  It’s Wednesday.  It’s been a bitch of a day in the office.

That’s good enough for me.

I had to drop our entry fee for the Village Quiz in at a neighbour’s house so thought I’d call by on the Ural.

As I set off, there was still enough light not to worry the eccentric Ural electrics and the lanes beckoned.  The edges of the sky were just starting to crinkle and dim, but that was it.

Living in Bampton has a tendency to resemble The Archers from time to time.  This was one of them.

I arrived on Helene’s doorstep just as another neighbour and fellow rider, Reece, got there too.  Both of us clutched our Quiz cash in our hands. I knocked.  We exchanged bike chat as we waited for Helene to answer the door.

After a few minutes, Helene flung the door open, clearly somewhat flustered.  There she stood, in her nightgown with a towel around her head, Continue reading