fast and loose

Tch. Risky, At least my camera was attached to my wrist by the strap when I took this. I could have got a much better shot of Joe and Dara sweeping past in front of the mini-prom at Joppa but I'd rather stupidly not noticed that the mode dial was still set to self-timer after yesterday evening's shot.

I'd hit a patch of faff whilst getting ready to leave work and barely had time to get home, dump my bag, change and transfer a spare tube, multi-tool, pliers, spoke key and spare cells for a safe minimum of lights to my saddlebag (leaving behind both locks (reasoning that I wouldn't need them but might need the slight weight reduction if heading round the hill with someone with a bike half the weight of mine and quoted mean speeds of greater than 17mph along the coast) and sticking an extra layer of top (in case of having to walk a long way home in the event of a severe mechanical problem after getting all damp and sweaty) beside my sunglasses in my camera bag) before it was time to head back out again. Edgar came home just as I was leaving, which was nice but slightly unfortunate as he started crying when I headed off. Everyone else (all both of them) were already at the Parliament when I reached it, unencumbered by mudguards or racks or lights but both wearing coats.

The wind round the hill wasn't quite at week-ago-Monday levels but was still right in the face at the top of the main slope and the start of the little-slope-before-the-drop-to-the-roundabout. There was a little extra bit around the side which caught the wheels, though nowhere near as much as the random gust blowing round the side of the huge barn thing at the side of Salamander Street which at least blew us towards the side of the road rather than into the oncoming traffic. There was even a little patch of Etape Caledonia-specific training for Joe in the form of some roofing-tacks scattered across the path, which I stopped to kick off or pick up but forgot to blip in situ.

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