Some time back now I used to ride these ways. Once daily duties were done you see, end of the day.
They were interesting times you know, it was much implied by the government, that one should lay low.
Cooped up a bit, holed up you might say. Just her indoors, me and the tin lids, watching tempers, fray.
Then there was the hunger my friend. Insatiable. Gee you just wouldn’t stop. Fridge, pantry, fruit bowl, no end.
What were we talking about cobber? Oh the bicycle, indeed. Yeah well, end of the day you’d get out, away from the bother.
Just me and the bike, well yes, true and a podcast too. Feeling quite rebellious, riding by light. Turning that off too.
Got pulled up by the coppers one night. They were looking for another geezer. A menacing bloke I had just seen, he was a fright.
Funny, they were looking for a bigger dude, with a beard, riding around town on a bike, me! Bigger! Beard! Rude.
Tell you what else was trouble, if you don’t mind me bending your ear! Bloody howlies down the road, all bursting their bubbles.
I’d ride past them, in daylight though, and they’d be sitting in moonchairs far too close, boozing up in the middle of the road.
The missus told her mate who was acquaintances of theirs, she then hit up the howlies, and well, a rift appeared.
Mate. Even then the in-laws took the Michael. “Ah they’re already in my bubble”, I didn’t trifle.
Hard to believe it’s been only one hundred and twenty odd days. Since we went into our bubbles. You see? We’ve come a way.
An Indian Summer, in the local vernacular. When the sun just goes on and on. The feeling was spectacular.
Feels like an early spring now aye mush? Cherry, Crimson Magnolia, Freesia, even the lawn’s looking lush.
So I took the bike back out across the polo grounds. The old route aye buddy? The one that circles town.