Sitting down to try to glean any gems of adventure or wisdom from my diary entries of the last three months has been tricky largely due to the fact that when not riding a bicycle, life becomes more predictable, mundane and rather unworthy of much comment. Save for antagonising a member of the world's 4th most venomous species of snake (a tiger snake) by cycling over its middle as it was basking in the sun and narrowly avoiding a night of watching a group of male strippers (work night out and not my choice of entertainment), the most excitement I've had since putting away my golden lycra has been sitting down on a sofa with a pizza and a beer to watch some cricket. It's been brilliant!
I suppose that when you are used to rationing yourself to up to two wet wipes a day depending on just how filthy you have become, when the only music you really listen to is that which warbles suspectly from your lips as you ride along, and when the only person that you regularly talk to is yourself in a more bizarre and convoluted internal monologue, the access to a hot shower, Spotify (a music streaming application) and seeing a few of the same people regularly is really quite exciting for a while. Even the monotony of watching multiple tonnes of spuds passing before my eyes each day has given me a welcome variation in routine and allowed my bank balance to recover slightly from the past year. I've been able treat myself to the occasional glass of wine, to watch champions league football at silly o'clock at night and to follow Swindon Town's triumphant rise back into League One.
The last spud has been plucked from the ground, and after a few days gardening, I will be departing from my more sedentary existence. I look forward to having the wind on my back as I float across the flat Nullarbor Plain to the eastern states of Australia, or at least that's what I've been dreaming about. The only problem is that I am unsure what level of protestation my legs are going to raise at the sudden departure from the months of relative relaxation. What I do know is that for the meantime, I sit in a rather excited mood ready to load up and roll out because life is simply more exciting in lycra!
I suppose that when you are used to rationing yourself to up to two wet wipes a day depending on just how filthy you have become, when the only music you really listen to is that which warbles suspectly from your lips as you ride along, and when the only person that you regularly talk to is yourself in a more bizarre and convoluted internal monologue, the access to a hot shower, Spotify (a music streaming application) and seeing a few of the same people regularly is really quite exciting for a while. Even the monotony of watching multiple tonnes of spuds passing before my eyes each day has given me a welcome variation in routine and allowed my bank balance to recover slightly from the past year. I've been able treat myself to the occasional glass of wine, to watch champions league football at silly o'clock at night and to follow Swindon Town's triumphant rise back into League One.
The last spud has been plucked from the ground, and after a few days gardening, I will be departing from my more sedentary existence. I look forward to having the wind on my back as I float across the flat Nullarbor Plain to the eastern states of Australia, or at least that's what I've been dreaming about. The only problem is that I am unsure what level of protestation my legs are going to raise at the sudden departure from the months of relative relaxation. What I do know is that for the meantime, I sit in a rather excited mood ready to load up and roll out because life is simply more exciting in lycra!
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