Waterland

Self-portrait (2022)

Things thawed out. Sub-zero nights and barely-above days lasted a week. Double digits within 24 hours and the rain came too. Chucking it down and sustained. The lanes awash with the deluge. Didn't fancy my chances with this one.

I took the footbridge, the depth gauge suggesting a soaking of the bottom bracket and the feet was avoided.

Some were rideable and with full length mudguards, keeping dry wasn't an issue. My colleague Jon often ribs me over my obsession with a nice set of guards. It's not just the bone dry backside, so accustomed to them now, my bikes just look naked without.

This one was doable

The bike felt good today. The last few rides, the gears weren't always shifting smoothly, some ghost shifting too. A clean first, to quote Grant Peterson - “Taking a dirty bike to a tune up is like eating Kimchi before going to the dentist” - then an anti-clockwise turn of the rear derailleur's barrel adjuster to tension the cable a touch, and all well. What a difference to the feel of a ride when everything is working just so.

My riding has been inconsistent of late, my slow and steady jaunts a fumble for some sort of fitness. Plus the pheasants of course, the number one fowl responsible for unhurried pedalling.