An afternoon's cycling

What a day: so many men kicking balls around, so little time (the cuter ones were of course driving pretty McLarens round and round). I decided I'd stuff the housework and escape the numerous tvs in the house flashing fit men at me in all their youthful glory, and would bugger off for the day on my bike. As it turned out I buggered off for the afternoon, having got embroiled in some rather tedious washing and a search for our errant bunny in next door's garden beforehand. He's still errant by the way: he sneakily ran under a shed and set up home there the moment he saw me. I finally managed to get away just before midday, somewhat agitated by this point.

I have been "in a mood" of late, which means I can barely be arsed to talk and have a propensity to listen to melancholic music over and over again. Sometimes the same song for hours, like a lovestruck teenager. Joy Division is a particular favourite, as it was when I was a lovestruck teenager. Of the few things I decided to take with me on my ride, music was a must - but I thought I ought to try and enforce a lift in mood and left the depressing stuff at home; although it was impossible not to bring along at least a couple of depressing ditties, should the mood take me, which it surely would. I also packed a sarny, oj, a Swiss Army knife and a load of allen keys; they look useful even if they aren't. I had a map too, which I pretty much ignored in favour of following my nose.

I decided I'd head over to Stithians Reservoir for lunch. It's a pretty bleak place about 8 miles from home I guess, maybe a bit less, maybe a bit more - I'm too slack to get out one of those wheely things and measure it precisely for you - as if you cared anyway! In my cycling reverie I sailed past the turning to the reservoir and couldn't be bothered to go 'backwards', so carried on through Stithians village, looking in vain for somewhere pleasant to sit and eat. The sun was beating down and I was actually beginning to enjoy myself. When I'm in "one of those moods" I love to be on my own with space to think uninterrupted and untimetabled. I carried on past the village until I found a little triangle of green grass where three roads converge. I leaned the bike up against the signpost, sat down and got out the cheese and salad sandwich, which tasted sooooo good by now. The longish grass and the sun made it impossible to resist a short lie down; I was woken up 3/4 of an hour later by a bloody noisy car. One look at my arms and I realised I'd forgotten to pack the sun cream: red as a lobster, urgh.

I headed off again towards Constantine and Porth Navas (left), all the time thinking about where I'd stop next to catch up on more sleep! I decided on the Helford Passage, yet another creek, but this time with a sandy beach and a nice pub (The Ferryboat Inn). I finally got there around 3.30 and crashed out on the beach with the tide literally lapping at my toes. There were the final dregs of holiday makers in this particularly attractive spot and I tried hard to ignore them and get some much needed rest. It was too hard though: they're a noisy bunch. I managed to find a spot near some beached kayaks, which for a while was absolute bliss, until the teenager from hell turned up. She parked herself in one of the kayaks and did nothing but whinge about how small it was and that she was heavy enough to sink it. I wholeheartedly agreed with this last statement, she was large enough to sink a U boat. She did nothing but whine, whine, whine for at least 15 minutes and I vowed that if, miraculously, the boat didn't sink I'd sink the bloody thing for her with her in it. She must've got it afloat though, because I drifted off to sleep and when I woke up all the kayaks were gone, thankfully. It was time for a refreshing drink before the last leg home, so I meandered up to the pub. I was horrified to discover that since I last visited they'd replaced half the comfy sofas with a tv screen the Plaza would be bloody proud of. And what were they showing? Bloody FOOTBALL, which was obviously so exciting the barman couldn't take his eyes off it while he was supposed to be giving me his undivided attention. I decided to take my drink outside, only to be spotted by an old work colleague, who I would rather not have been spotted by. It's so hard when people ask you "how are you?" not to reply with "as miserable as fuck actually", so hard in fact that I've given up trying. I've found that the honest truth cuts conversation short and you can just get on with your life! After exchanging a few words I pushed the bike up a hill San Fransisco would be proud of and continued with my homeward journey until I saw a dead badger, which I just had to stop and take a few snaps of. So, for those of you that may have thought I'd gone soft with the ducklings, here's a couple of pictures!

He (maybe it was a she, I couldn't tell) was just a baby, small and plump and killed far too early. I thought it's paws and claws were just amazing. Shame it was too big to get into my handlebar bag...