There are, I have discovered the hard, wet way, no joys in riding a bike in a thunderstorm.
In the way that these things happen, the storm waited until I was at the furthest distance from home before it broke, and so I made my rain-soaked way back looking at the sodden streets through raindrop heavy glasses.
I must admit that I did stop at one point when the rain had become more that usually aggressive, cwtching in a bus shelter where the shelter was more notional than real. The arrival of a drenched, faceguard wearing, mumbling female person of restricted growth encouraged me to brave the elements and splash my way towards the dry house.
It took only a few minutes of torrential downpour to flood the gutters and soon I was riding though surprisingly warm floodwater with an aroma redolent of sewers. The drainage system for your roads is woefully inadequate and any reasonable downpour overwhelms the drains’ ability to deal with the excess water. Luckily I am ‘wise in the ways’ of our local road network and can anticipate the areas most likely to support puddles.
Once or twice I felt the bike aquaplaning, that heart-racingly exciting moment when control seems to drift away and you suddenly realize your vulnerability perched on a contraption where only your velocity and delicate equilibrium keep you upright. Those moments made me even more paranoid, searching the road ahead (as far as I could see it through my rain-compromised glasses) for tell-tale, glassy-pocked patches of slippery water.
It eventually got to the stage that, as I couldn’t really get any wetter, I might as well ‘ignore’ the rain and press on to a shower (such irony) and a dry set of clothes.
As I sloshed my way along, I passed and was passed by other sturdily masochistic cyclists, and saw on the pavement runners doggedly pursuing their sad sport. I don’t think that I have ever seen a happy runner; I have seen determined runners, zombie runners, exhausted runners and glisteningly arrogant runners, but runners sporting a cheery smile? No. Never. Cyclists often have irritatingly enthusiastic chats as they cycle, often ignoring the drivers backed up behind them- perhaps that is what makes them laugh and smile?
The shower and shave when I returned (together with another brush of my teeth to keep a sense of occasion) was revivifying and I felt that my post-shower cup of tea was more than deserved. I wonder if you get theoretical brownie points for cycling in the rain, my smartwatch should take such things into consideration, after all it does have access to my geographical location and the climactic conditions at the time, it would hardly be difficult for my phone and watch to combine and give a little bonus for battling the elements!
In the UK traction seems to be growing for the establishment of an Inquiry into the management of the Covid Disaster to try and ensure that the results can inform the second spike of infection if (!) we have one. Johnson (Cummings’ mouthpiece) has nothing to fear with his majority of 80; however damming the final report is, he will be able to carry on unless his mindless pack of Brexiteers have Collective Lemming Syndrome.
It is significant that even after the accumulating disasters of this risible administration, its lies and ineptitude, the Conservatives are still ahead of the Labour Party in the polls! Not by much and the rating of Johnson are abysmally low, but he has years (dear god!) ahead and that bloody majority, so he will be well able to bumble his fatal way along, destroying ‘ere he steps!
Here in Catalonia we move into the next stage of the relaxation of lockdown, though how it can be very much more relaxed than the present behaviour of the majority of the population already I find hard to imagine.
We are following the guidelines for appropriate behaviour but, just like driving a car, one’s safety is not entirely dependant on one’s own careful driving, but rather on the sense and reasonableness of others. In that case, we are well and truly flummoxed. Which was not the first word that came to mind.
My concern for Monday is to find somewhere that can repair my expensively dropped expensive mobile phone. The back has shattered, though it is holding together, but the back plate has lifted away from the body of the phone leaving a sort of gaping wound. The phone cost far too much to be junked and, no, I do not have insurance; and, yes, it was in its protective cover when I dropped it. Hey ho, so it goes!
I did try and go out for my evening bike ride, the last of this particular level of lockdown, but there was rain in the wind and I wimped my way back home to the dry, with the only wet thing a rewarding cup of tea by way of compensation.
On an even more positive note, I have checked my swim bag to make sure that everything that should be there is there.
At least tomorrow will give me a clear idea of how they are going to organize a swim in the New Normal!
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