Dagnabit...

I'm beginning to think I can see how people come to religion late in life. Mainly because I'm pondering whether there really is a divine being sitting up on his cloud, and also the undeniable fact that he just doesn't like me...

Got up early this morning to go for a quick spin on the bike, maybe 15-20 miles, after a day of work work work yesterday in the garden and house. At almost the furthest point from home, on a section of save-for-a-few-rough-bits pretty good Sustrans NCN1 path (I'll not get started on Sustrans, their rant will come), I hit a raised ridge of tarmac hidden by some leaves so hard that my rear tyre stood no chance.

Never mind, thinks I, I have my puncture repair kit. Of course, that's of more use if you also have a pump... You can see where this is going... Anyway, I walked a mile and a half or so back to Blackhall (snapping this en route), where I find Homebase is open (9am on a Sunday? Odd, but welcome), and they have a tiny bike section, with, hallelujah, a pump. £4.99 lighter in the pocket, but tyre sorted within 10 minutes and I'm on my way back home by a shorter route, via a newsagent for a paper, for the relaxed post-ride breakfast I'd been craving.

So I'm wondering, given this is just the second leisure ride I've gone out on in the last 6 months or so, and the second to be stopped by a puncture, when commuting every single day, I've had one puncture all year, maybe a good solid bit o'prayin' might be in order to try and succour his love for me once more.

Or her love.

Or the great spaghetti monster's love.

I'm not very good at proper religion am I?

In other news I've been vetoed on the idea of getting a greyhound. All sensible reasons, but doesn't stop me being gutted. I do have a tendency to be a bit of an optimist (surprising I know) which probably makes bad news harder to bear - pessimists and fatalists maybe have the right idea.

Hell, if I'd been that way inclined I may have remembered to pack my pump as well.