another misty moisty morning of the kind which just lays a charm of distraction upon you, a siren song consuming anything that could be termed a plan, a wander for a bike, back across the river...  the wind gusting enough of a chill to merit a three layer start to the cycle and then, around midday, things changing, rapidly warming air removed tops, wishes for a pair of shorts found in each glug from the rapidly depleting water bottle... elsewhere glimmers of hope in the downbeat retreat of drumpf towards hurricane karma which rumours seem to say is approaching the coast of florida... there's a sense of relief which feels odd after the last four and a half years but it's not quite there yet as, looking west, the farce of brexshit continues; project fear now appearing to be something of an understatement of the encroaching reality, a dark farce while a piss poor government continues with its sub drumpfian tribute act and desperately searches for alternative facts to assign cause and blame to while the descent continues...