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| The evidence |
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| An old dear with a good ticker! |
I know that in the past you have been the victim of my little jaunts that turn into epic journeys. Today was one of THOSE epic journeys. We cycled to Winslow and back. I know how far it was because I had looked it up on google maps before setting off and in addtion to this we had tried part of the journey a couple of times before. Google said it was 9 miles - nothing really. Nine there and the same coming back, more or less. My friend was up for it.
As you have probably heard the weather is once again a typical English summer - cold and windy. We dressed up in warm clothes, I made a picnic and off we went into the blustery beyond. Around Great Horwood the skies darkened and the wind whipped up. Hail bounced off my face as I fought my way up a hill and into Winslow. I was at once cold and soaked through. Bloody English weather!
I raced ahead to save myself from the elements and was joined a short while later by Nasr. His bike is a bit slower than mine as he never changes gear. He was wet, and not happy. In retrospect he was more unhappy than wet. He said he would never have done this in his old life and he had been tempted to turn back a few miles back. Nevertheless, we had reached our destination so we ate our picnic standing over the bikes under a tree that dripped on us. As you can imagine, not ideal picnic conditions and really only acceptable to hardy Brits.
I could see the funny side of this. Marms, you know many of my friends who have suffered a similar fate. It is all too familiar in my life to have little adventures. Also, I absolutely hate going back the same way as the outward journey so we googled a new route back.
With a little blarney, Route 51 looked ideal and just a few more miles further than route that got us to Winslow. It is a national cycle route so potentially safer than roads. It was bumpy and potholed and very soon my bottom began to feel a little tender. I now realise I am well-padded in the wrong places to protect myself from off-road jaunts. On the upside, Route 51 is a rather picturesque 15 mile bridleway that goes from Winslow into MK. What could go wrong?
I'll tell you. When you hit MK, the signposts disappear and effing EE internet failed me yet again so I had to second guess the route back to Wolverton. I second-guessed a bit wrongly and at one point accusations began to fly - I really didn't get us lost on purpose - honest - and even though I have done this before, it is not my habit. Trust ME. We ended up on the North Bucks Way - a route that made Route 51 feel like a freshly tarmaced road. Ouch - double ouch.
Then Google sent us to a closed road - THAT wasn't my fault - we were 23 miles into the trip. The wind was still rather harsh but the sun was shining. The world is a wonderful place even though we were facing the prospect of having to retrace our steps. We even passed Dairy Farm.
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| en route |
Suffice to say we are now back at base 27 miles covered and still speaking after a small bribe of a Costa cappaccino.
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| Costa coffee stop |
I am happy on many fronts. My daughter has moved in and started her new job in MK. She is a key worker so we clapped her after dinner last night just before I proved myself once again to be the Woolhead Canasta Queen.
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| Yay!!! |
Shadow has settled in her new home. I am sure you miss her, Marms. Even the annoying things she did like nip at your heels to get you moving. As always, she is ever hopeful of goodies. She lies at the kitchen door and watches whoever does the cooking, ever the optimist.
I too am an optimist. I'll get my friend on another little jaunt before too long no doubt.
Miss you and love you,
XXX
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