A rolling stone...

.....I was sitting chewing on my toast and watching the bird feeders when it suddenly popped into my head that Nancy's car should be at the garage for its service and MOT. In a flurry of clothes, shoes and keys, I was running out the door and making for the industrial estate outside the village.

I tramped the two miles home from the garage on shank's pony, mulling over the real focus of the day; breaking some bad news to a relative about Aunty Ks will. I'd taken advice from another relative and rehearsed the words several times, and the call went better than expected. Still not a pleasant thing to deliver, or receive I'm sure. 

Relieved to have that topic out of the way, at least for today, I donned my cycling gear and ventured out for an adventure around the villages in the next valley (Teviotdale). I remembered to stuff a sandwich in my back pocket, so I stopped halfway round the route at Roxburgh to watch the world go by. The birds were birding, the farmers were farming and the cows seemed to be farting. Excellent. 

Home now and the cycle computer tells me I've 'worked' harder than I have for some time, so I guess I was stamping out a bit of stress relief on the pedals. 

Right, some house tasks to tackle so, have at ye.