They'll Get Me Next Time

It's an excellent bike in, apart from those dreaded 4x4’s, it’s very noticeable that the schools are back. One tries to overtake me, gets along side, changes their mind and squeezes me against the curb, forgetting that their wing mirror is about the same height as a cyclists head. I manage to avoid it and the motorist lifts their hand in acknowledgement. Whether this is by way of an apology or an indication that they'll get me next time, I'm not sure.

L tells me that the chap on reception at her physio was blown off his bike by a speeding articulated lorry at the Derby Tri last weekend. That’s not good. He probably has one of those super light carbon bikes that I want. One gust of wind and they take off.

As I cycle home and cross the bridge from Pride Park, the path is almost blocked by a quartet of teenagers hanging out there. Well more correctly, it's blocked by a lad with a skateboard in one hand and what looks like a huge double bass in the other. It's an almost surreal combination. He's looking well miffed and very jealous of his friend, who is getting very familiar with the girl he is with. He has his own girl beside him but I can see his dilemma. If only he had a third hand then he could follow his friends lead. Obviously, he can't let go of the double bass because if anything happened to that his mother would kill him but surely, his girlfriend rates higher than his skateboard. She can't be happy being the third most important thing in his life.

I get home and take the dogs out. After which I cook while I listen to today's big European match, England v Wales from Swansea, where Derby are the visitors. It ends 1-1.

I don't think I'm that late going to be bed but by the time I do, I have to scrape MD up from the corner where he's crashed, upside down, and pop him into his bed. Then I kick Doggo off our bed before finally snuggling up with a sleeping L. Who deceptively isn't as tired as she looks.