Bloody bank holiday traffic.
Wait all bloody month and then it arrives, limp and wet like a soggy lettuce leaf in an over priced salad.
Thought I’d get out for a ride y’know. Grab a bit of ‘me’ time, “escape”. Oh yes. Great stuff. Nothing but chocca roads and grey damp misery. Ages ’til the next one. Christmas! For heavens sake.
Is it too much to ask? Just a BLOODY RIDE. Some quiet country lanes. Maybe a pack of wild Welsh horses grazing amiably. A golden twilight, sun sinking like a giant satsuma into a fruit cocktail of rolling green fields. Warm air draughts, hawks surfing the thermals. Top it all off with a blistering descent and an undulating spin home. That’s all.
Bloody bank holidays.
August the 29th was that rare beauty – a UK national holiday that lived up to expectations. Pictured: the approach to Senghenydd moor.