I was going to write a long rambling diatribe about rudeness of riders to one another, especially that which Mikeal encountered a week or so ago, but I'll save that for another day. Whether this rudeness was due to that fact that he'd tossed a salad earlier I'm not sure, but it is a well observed issue with central Auckland riders.
Instead, I'll explain my absence from posting. Since my last missive, I have moved abode. The tribe and I up sticks and moved about five hundred metes north. It was an undertaking of some size and untold pain, especially when the less than gorilla like assistant, who I had conned into helping me transfer items from one house to the other, squashed my knuckle, not once, but twice, between hard, heavy furniture and sharp door jamb.
That little mishap aside, it all went reasonably painlessly. Admittedly the weekend prior to the move the use of a large trailer and an indiscriminate rubbish sorting process did boost Auckland's landfill a little. It also meant that several bulky items that my dearly beloved has hauled from house to house (actually storage to storage) finally were consigned to their rightful place. She doesn't know the magnitude of the cull, but I'm willing to engage in a policy of "Ignorance is bliss".
Not only has writing taken a back seat, but cycling has also. Thankfully I finally threw a leg over the stead on Sunday and gained some miles. I realised I'm not the rider I was a few weeks ago, and that there will be quite some pain to get back there.
But, like this post, and Sunday's ride signal, I'm back in the saddle. Lucky Pierre indeed.
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