Sner

"Err nerr, it's snerring!" I said to mesen in me best Hull accent as I got to the foot of The Granites, en route to Heriot and Humbie. But I pedalled up there at a steady pace in a decent gear thinking it might all be a different once I got up to the top of the climb. It was worse. This is the view just over the top, and where that road disappears is the 30+ mph long, sweeping descent into the valley which is normally just dreamy. But not today...I turned round and came home, obviously all the roads I'd just ridden along were now covered in a little layer of snow for a bit of extra frisson but I navigated them alright at a very cautious speed. Until I felt a familiar thudding from the back wheel that meant I'd punctured about fifteen miles from home. And the fact that I had to take my gloves off to mend the thing meant that as my hands got colder and colder my puncture-mending competence decreased in logarithmic fashion. It took what seemed like forever to get that damned tire back on. Plus the thorn that was in the tire had broken as I was pulling it out - I think there's still a bit left in there to be tweezered out before the next ride. Arrived home and it was all brilliant sunshine! No sign of snow. It was like I'd imagined the whole thing.

A midweek roast dinner, an IPA and some soothing sounds has restored some balance.

Ambient