On balance a pretty horrible ride home brought to me in association with exhaustion, existential dread, a big caffeine comedown and of course the usual assortment of dickheads.
The aperitif was served in the form of a vapid cyclist pulling out of a path in front of me without giving as much as a glance in my direction.
Things became more fun some miles later when attempting to pass a solitary car parked on the side of the road, into distant oncoming traffic. All would have been fine had the absolute tool in the parked car not suddenly pulled out at speed / without indicating as I was practically on top of him.
When it became clear I'd struggle to get past I pulled back in behind the knobhead; at least having the awareness to thank the driver of the oncoming vehicle who'd clocked what was going on and slowed to a crawl to avoid becoming involved in the melee.
I did at least get the satisfaction of loudly advising the muppet responsible to use his f*cking mirrors through his open window as he latterly turned into a side road; again without signalling. The look on his face apparently confirmed that he was likely absolutely as vacuous as the standard of his driving suggested..
A bit later I nearly got doored by a kid in a car failing to pay any attention to what was going on outside the vehicle he was attempting to exit.
Shortly after that I passed the body of a pigeon in the road. As I rode on I became fixated on the image of its crumpled little body left lifeless and alone on the tarmac and became overcome by profound sadness. I returned via a little loop; picking up its limp, still-warm corpse and depositing it beneath some bushes to at least spare it the further indignity of being turned to pate by the inevitable slew of uncaring drivers.
Things momentarily perked up a little after this with a few casual exchanges with folks on the top path and a dangle for some nice decompression and a few pops from the neck.
Finding a bit of a level I stopped at the shop for scant bargains, and upon leaving became acutely aware of the absence of my water bottle from my bike. I have no idea where it went and as as it may seem I can only assume some absolute waste of skin has nicked it.
I even back-tracked all the way through the park and to the last water stop on the tow path in case I'd left it behind, but no joy. Assuming this isn't due to some stupid oversight on my part (can't see how it can be as I look straight at the bottle when locking the bike up and would have spotted its absence before leaving the bike had I lost it en-route) what the actual f*ck is wrong with people?
More miles than usual (about 33 for the day IIRC) thanks to my fruitless efforts to recover the bottle; the last few on the tow path being particularly miserably enraging due to the amount of fly-strikes to my eyes and of course inhaled / swallowed with no way of washing my mouth out..
Very, very glad to be home and shut away from the sh*tshow that is the outside world tonight. Very much looking forward to being unconscious for the next however many hours - but of course even that respite will likely be ruined by waking ridiculously early.
B*llocks.
The aperitif was served in the form of a vapid cyclist pulling out of a path in front of me without giving as much as a glance in my direction.
Things became more fun some miles later when attempting to pass a solitary car parked on the side of the road, into distant oncoming traffic. All would have been fine had the absolute tool in the parked car not suddenly pulled out at speed / without indicating as I was practically on top of him.
When it became clear I'd struggle to get past I pulled back in behind the knobhead; at least having the awareness to thank the driver of the oncoming vehicle who'd clocked what was going on and slowed to a crawl to avoid becoming involved in the melee.
I did at least get the satisfaction of loudly advising the muppet responsible to use his f*cking mirrors through his open window as he latterly turned into a side road; again without signalling. The look on his face apparently confirmed that he was likely absolutely as vacuous as the standard of his driving suggested..
A bit later I nearly got doored by a kid in a car failing to pay any attention to what was going on outside the vehicle he was attempting to exit.
Shortly after that I passed the body of a pigeon in the road. As I rode on I became fixated on the image of its crumpled little body left lifeless and alone on the tarmac and became overcome by profound sadness. I returned via a little loop; picking up its limp, still-warm corpse and depositing it beneath some bushes to at least spare it the further indignity of being turned to pate by the inevitable slew of uncaring drivers.
Things momentarily perked up a little after this with a few casual exchanges with folks on the top path and a dangle for some nice decompression and a few pops from the neck.
Finding a bit of a level I stopped at the shop for scant bargains, and upon leaving became acutely aware of the absence of my water bottle from my bike. I have no idea where it went and as as it may seem I can only assume some absolute waste of skin has nicked it.
I even back-tracked all the way through the park and to the last water stop on the tow path in case I'd left it behind, but no joy. Assuming this isn't due to some stupid oversight on my part (can't see how it can be as I look straight at the bottle when locking the bike up and would have spotted its absence before leaving the bike had I lost it en-route) what the actual f*ck is wrong with people?
More miles than usual (about 33 for the day IIRC) thanks to my fruitless efforts to recover the bottle; the last few on the tow path being particularly miserably enraging due to the amount of fly-strikes to my eyes and of course inhaled / swallowed with no way of washing my mouth out..
Very, very glad to be home and shut away from the sh*tshow that is the outside world tonight. Very much looking forward to being unconscious for the next however many hours - but of course even that respite will likely be ruined by waking ridiculously early.
B*llocks.
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