The Guilt Trip

After a fortnight off, and seeing all these other hardy nutters blippers braving the elements, I'm back on it. 

Layered up so much I was barely able to move (if I'd fallen off along this stretch I'd've been pirouetting around on my camera bag on my back with arm and legs flailing like a turtle until some dog walker came along to flip me over) it was a delicate skite along some sections. The phone gave up (says it was overheating, I think it was brain freeze) and had me Strava-ing as the crow flies for the majority of the cycle.

Was feeling all Scott of the Antarctic until another cyclist passed me along the Cambuskenneth Road. In cycling shorts. 

Mentalist.