Rubbing down the garage door...

Nancy was off to work in Embra at 6am this morning so that meant the cat and I were up, with no realistic chance of a longer lie-in. As they left the house to go about their business I watched the highlights from Stage 5 of Tour de France and The Manx Missile Sir Mark Cavendish's record breaking win. Splendid stuff. 

Next I pootled off for my own tour of the back roads and explored a short section of the St Cuthbert's Way. It's definitely not bicycle friendly in this local sector and so I headed back on to the roads as soon as I was able, sporting a horse-fly bite. Bastardos. 

Back to the house via the local roofing contractor who'll nip up later to do us a quote for the roof defects. 

I've rubbed down the garage door, and in its time hanging in this doorway, it has been coloured Forth Bridge red, green and yellow. With a bit of luck (rain forecast) and lots of layers, it'll shortly be white. 

When Nancy returns home from the smoke this evening, we'll cast our General Election votes at the village hall; good luck to all the candidates except Reform UK obviously. And then we'll nip round to the untried Italian restaurant for some carbs and red wine. I mean, who wants to be served Fettuccine Alfredo by Wayne? If Reform get their way, that'll be your only option.