All in the mind?

 

“By the fourth one, you'd think you'd know what you're doing”. My colleague Sarah, musing on the rearing of her offspring. “By 47, you'd think you'd know what you’re doing”. Me, musing on my procession along this mortal coil. In fact, I'm as clueless as I've ever been, and I'm assuming that's how it will always be, with all of THIS being ultimately unfathomable. I think I need to stop waiting for IT to happen, whatever IT is. My life is happening now in the present moment, “the marvellous moment” to quote Alan Watts, and will always do so.

I woke up this morning with a crushing headache - angst induced or some sort of infection? Working in a school I micro-dose viruses of various hues on a daily basis. I had plenty of snot too - got to be a cold. I had planned to spend the morning cycling, but I had second thoughts, slowly convincing myself I was slipping towards illness. A former colleague, and keen marathon runner, once advised it was fine to run if the illness was neck and above. Ok, ok, I'll go, as planned, a loop skirting Alcester. Beausale (good beer?) and then Haseley, past the church, through Hatton Green and on to Norton Lindsey.

The church at Haseley. Second posting in a row with a church. I will rechristen the blog
 ‘The churches of Warwickshire'

The head cleared - angst then? Cycling is an escape, an escape from myself. I pulled into the lay-by at Edstone Aqueduct and bumped into a familiar face, a bloke who works for the Canal and River Trust  Friendly chap, someone I'd spoken to before further along the canal (close to Yarningale Aqueduct).

Edstone Aqueduct 

Time of day passed, Little Alne was next, then Shelfield and a gentle climb, past the Purity Brewery, before a rapid descent to Great Alne. There's some bridleways close to here, I must explore once winter has passed and likelihood of mud, lots of mud, reduced.

A weir close to Great Alne

With the wind behind and the tarmac smooth, the road to Wilmcote is a joy. There's a sharp climb to get to the village and then another further on before reaching Snitterfield (guess what the wags do to that letter n with a black marker pen). A bit of a longer climb to Wolverton, and a bit more up to reach Pinley Green. The road beyond Shrewley is rough and there's a rattle. Not in my head, definitely the bike. Still pedalling, I reach down to check the front mudguard, the noise seems to be coming from there, but it's firmly in place. By Wroxall, the rattling is annoying. I stop and fiddle further with the front mudguard - there's no play in it. What about the back one? Ah, here we go, it's loose. I tighten the fittings at the seat stay bridge and dropouts and reach home with a silent bike. But there's a pounding in my head - illness then.