Fairweather wheeler

It doesn’t take much for me to talk myself out of cycling to work. It’s raining. It looks like it might rain. It’s been raining and the roads are wet. It’s windy. I have a new album I want to listen to. I’ve too much stuff to fit in my basket. I’ve a slow puncture.

(That last one has been true for oh, seven months now. I carry a bike pump with me whenever I do venture out. The fella refuses to fix the puncture for me on principle – fair play, I say – and I’m not bothered learning how to do it properly, or paying a tenner to have someone else do it. Yes, I’m a total idiot.)

And it’s silly really, because even on murky blustery evenings like this one, when I’m stuck in work late, I wish I had it with me. I might arrive home in a puddled sweaty breathless mess, but I’d be home faster. My laziness, my enemy.

(ps. Comment moderation is switched on for the time being.)