Pale rider

This may be my last entry…

First cycle ride of the year today and I have to admit I’ve missed being on a bike.

I would say that I am totally in shape for a man twice my height so any exercise is hugely important to me but this particular session ended at Toby Carvery for one of their crazy all-you-can-shove-in-your-stupid-face breakfasts. Essentially I did my heart some good and then smeared a thick layer of grease all over it. I’m not saying the breakfasts are bad, I’m saying my choices are. That said, thin people don’t eat carvery breakfasts; we all just wheeze our way around the breakfast area waiting for diabetes to claim another limb and tutting disdainfully at the skinny young things that have been dragged along by their parents or significant – and I do mean significant – others.

The feeding frenzy is one of nature’s greatest spectacles but this morning was hampered by the slow delivery of the endless troughs of pork. Apparently some indelicate bastards had, on previous weeks, asked for their bacon to come out of the kitchen cooked and this had thrown the chef off his game. I can’t blame him though – the guys got a routine and cooking bacon beyond a pale, English summer-style tan was never going to be part of it. Don’t get me wrong, if I want a full English breakfast Toby would be my immediate go-to but something was just a little amiss this morning.

Having shoved down what would amount to an entire minced pig we set off for home, gingerly pushing our bikes up the not-bad-but-nasty-on-a-full-stomach hill – riding them up was never going to be an option without expelling the contents of our distended bellies on to the old ladies queuing for buses at the summit.

I was stuffed and it took me the 7 minutes before we got to Greggs before I could even think about food again.

More cycling soon but with a little more emphasis on health and a little less on reducing the (imaginary) EU pork mountain – which is, coincidentally,  Mrs CthuIu’s pet name for me.

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