Blog No. 16 of 17
I've had a text from fellow pedaller Fiona the Hamstermaster. It seems she may have to cry off tomorrow's ride due to a gippy tummy. Acquired, she claims, when she was cleaning out a fish tank and accidentally drank some of the water. My translation ... Fiona can't come out to play because she's been licking the fish tank. I suppose I should be grateful she's progressed from bus windows.
Annie Absinthe on the other hand, is a higher ape, and has had her bike fixed. She's in the bag. So at least there are two of us. I'm not counting on the UniCyclist himself turning up, with my luck, it's almost too much to ask.
Good news: I picked up magicbike last night, I've found my bike helmet and my stiff neck has ameliorated sufficiently for me to be confident of turning me head - always useful when you're cycling. However, when I took magicbike for a quick spin, I found the seat twists left and right quite alarmingly, so I've just popped to the bike shop and demonstrated my turning saddle problem. With a withering look, the surly gentleman assured me this is 'normal in this kind of bike and only to be expected'. Maybe I should credit him for his self-control in the face of my ignorance, he surely meant to say:
"Madam, as far as I'm concerned, you can swivel."
Anyhoo ... I'm nothing if not ... well, I'm nothing, but that's not important. Put it this way, I'm persistent. I'm packed and loaded, including a pair of borrowed cycling shorts from the inestimable bike lender Emma. She assures me the extra padding in the tuppence area is vital, but I'm fairly convinced the elastication around my Russian-shotputter-on-extra-rations thighs will have me empathising with Douglas Bader within a couple of miles.
Pip pip. I'm going over the top ...
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