Plenty of towpath, heading my way.
A little under 25 miles today, cycling the K&A between Bradford-on-Avon and Bath.
As is now traditional, the chain folded itself up when I tried to change the front gears whilst putting pressure on the pedals. So for the third time, the now well-practiced routine of deflate tyre, wheel off, straighten chain, wheel on, pump tyre, wonder whether the pressure's remotely correct. The chain felt rather sticky, but I wasn't sure if that was too much grease or not enough. Possibly the worst part is how difficult it is to get clean again...
Then I clipped the end of a railing somehow and fell off. (First time on this bike). The result is a slightly scraped pedal (scraped it again later on a wall) (good job it's metal), and a wound of indeterminate size just below the knee. The mud, blood and oil (why do I always get oil on my left leg?) make it look worse than it feels but I suspect I really should try to clean it up.
So I began to wonder if the outing was a bad idea, but there were herons on the canal, which was rather exciting and made up for it somewhat. I saw a pheasant flying too, which is pretty unusual. Coming in to Bath in an entirely novel way was interesting, and as well as some very pretty countryside, revealed a somewhat less elegant side to the city (especially along the path towards Bristol) - plenty of graffiti, industrial units, scary looking hoboes (erm, possibly), usw.
Overall being mostly towpath it was exactly the kind of leisurely sight-seeing that Andy and Alex would despise, though it's nice not to have to make an effort sometimes! Did feel like I wasn't really getting any useful exercise, though. Oh, until the return to Bradford and its fiendish hills.
I almost made it through the day being very polite to others, but I did rather take issue with a taxi driver who'd decided that (on a fast A-road) the two lanes on his side weren't quite enough and he'd like some of mine too. Far be it from me to accuse him of being either on the 'phone or a git.
Now then, what shall I cook tonight?
---
Inadvertently-defrosted pizza, as it turns out.
Just been in the bath (what a bizarre invention) in an attempt to wash out of my knee anything that shouldn't dun oughter be there. I probably shouldn't've left it eleven hours. L'anyhoodle, I can't tell whether it's clean or not. I also can't tell how deep the damage is. Mum's concerned it won't heal properly and thinks a stitch might have helped but I think that seems a bit excessive and, as always, "don't see what I've done to deserve medical attention". I guess I'll just leave it to heal and hope for the best.
After which cheery thoughts, erm... note to Ford: how can the Focus have 'sporty' fog lamps? They're lamps, for goodness' sake. Oh, I was watching Fifth Gear which isn't bad, actually, what with having presenters I actually respect (e.g. Vicki Butler-Henderson and Tiff Needell from the glory days of Top Gear), having reasonably intelligent and quietly-spoken conversations around a table, rather than some big men trading manly insults in an aircraft hangar, surrounded by a bunch of chavs. Though I was somewhat less than impressed by the commercial break six minutes into an hour-long show. But in closing, Aston Martin Vantage! Woo! Ahem, I mean, won't be very economical I'm sure.
As is now traditional, the chain folded itself up when I tried to change the front gears whilst putting pressure on the pedals. So for the third time, the now well-practiced routine of deflate tyre, wheel off, straighten chain, wheel on, pump tyre, wonder whether the pressure's remotely correct. The chain felt rather sticky, but I wasn't sure if that was too much grease or not enough. Possibly the worst part is how difficult it is to get clean again...
Then I clipped the end of a railing somehow and fell off. (First time on this bike). The result is a slightly scraped pedal (scraped it again later on a wall) (good job it's metal), and a wound of indeterminate size just below the knee. The mud, blood and oil (why do I always get oil on my left leg?) make it look worse than it feels but I suspect I really should try to clean it up.
So I began to wonder if the outing was a bad idea, but there were herons on the canal, which was rather exciting and made up for it somewhat. I saw a pheasant flying too, which is pretty unusual. Coming in to Bath in an entirely novel way was interesting, and as well as some very pretty countryside, revealed a somewhat less elegant side to the city (especially along the path towards Bristol) - plenty of graffiti, industrial units, scary looking hoboes (erm, possibly), usw.
Overall being mostly towpath it was exactly the kind of leisurely sight-seeing that Andy and Alex would despise, though it's nice not to have to make an effort sometimes! Did feel like I wasn't really getting any useful exercise, though. Oh, until the return to Bradford and its fiendish hills.
I almost made it through the day being very polite to others, but I did rather take issue with a taxi driver who'd decided that (on a fast A-road) the two lanes on his side weren't quite enough and he'd like some of mine too. Far be it from me to accuse him of being either on the 'phone or a git.
Now then, what shall I cook tonight?
---
Inadvertently-defrosted pizza, as it turns out.
Just been in the bath (what a bizarre invention) in an attempt to wash out of my knee anything that shouldn't dun oughter be there. I probably shouldn't've left it eleven hours. L'anyhoodle, I can't tell whether it's clean or not. I also can't tell how deep the damage is. Mum's concerned it won't heal properly and thinks a stitch might have helped but I think that seems a bit excessive and, as always, "don't see what I've done to deserve medical attention". I guess I'll just leave it to heal and hope for the best.
It's only a flesh wound!Hope it doesn't get infected, thassall.
After which cheery thoughts, erm... note to Ford: how can the Focus have 'sporty' fog lamps? They're lamps, for goodness' sake. Oh, I was watching Fifth Gear which isn't bad, actually, what with having presenters I actually respect (e.g. Vicki Butler-Henderson and Tiff Needell from the glory days of Top Gear), having reasonably intelligent and quietly-spoken conversations around a table, rather than some big men trading manly insults in an aircraft hangar, surrounded by a bunch of chavs. Though I was somewhat less than impressed by the commercial break six minutes into an hour-long show. But in closing, Aston Martin Vantage! Woo! Ahem, I mean, won't be very economical I'm sure.
posted by Z31 at 4:26 pm
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