Busyknitter

..it would be a Morgan.

It’s a classic British tourer, built to cruise elegantly up hill and down dale. It’s really a crime that for the past year I’ve been restricting it to tedious journeys to work and ambling about my part of town. But finally today I got the chance to put it through it’s paces.

We’ve just had the first week of the summer holidays and I took some leave, but it was really no holiday at all. Our respite carer was away herself and my Mum got carted off to hospital for the week (nothing serious, so I’m allowed to grumble a bit). When I wasn’t looking after T (who was all over the place with a head cold) I was visiting Ward 12 and by the end of the week (despite midweek trip to ASDF Towers) I was feeling rather fed up (and I’d caught the cold).

So with the respite carer back and on duty, T in a much more mellow mood and what anxiety there had been about my Mum totally allayed, I decided to play truant today and take a half day holiday all of my very own.

I’ve been for a 30-mile bike ride round the the bit of Lancashire between Preston and the Forest of Bowland. The weather was perfect, the roads were quiet, my bike performed like a gazelle and i haven’t felt so relaxed and refreshed for months. Got a sore bum though.

No photos as I was travelling light.

First in what I fear will be a regular series on the increasing threat to our basic liberties

Link to BBC article

T in the back yard
In the pouring rain
Happy
Smiling
Jumping
Laughing
With his trousers, pants and nappy round his ankles

The library at work (which is a large further education college) has been having a sale of books that haven’t been issued for at least 10 years!. And at 10p a book they are hard hard to resist. So yesterday I brought home Nuns and Soliders by Iris Murdoch, four novels by Aldous Huxley; Antic Hey, Eyeless in Gaza, Crome Yellow and Mortal Coils (part of a nice hardbound complete works collection), The History of Rasselas by Samuel Johnson, a collection of modern British Short Stories, The Singing Sands by Josephone Tey, Private Angelo by Eric Linklater, The Threepenny Novel by Bertolt Brecht, England Their England by AG Macdonnell, To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee (which I’ve never read yet), a collection of SF short stories and a biography about life in a Hebridean croft.

All a colleague had to say was that if I could find the time to read that lot, they weren’t working me hard enough. Some folk just don’t understand……