Down the Garden Path

It’s got hot.  Very hot.  So hot that the internal combustion engine that keeps me warm in the coldest temperatures in winter is currently squinting at the thermometer and relishing the fact that it has finally found some serious competition.  It has bought itself some training shoes and recruited a personal trainer and is really getting into shape, I think it’s building itself up for the heating Olympics.  This will likely sound familiar to many of you who also feeling the heat a bit, but I say it to try to explain why I am currently struggling to put one word after another in a way that is anything other than arrant gibberish (it may also go someway to explaining why I find the word arrant quite so bewitching.  It clearly means nothing at all, but has the potential to go with pretty much everything to brighten things up, much like salad cream really.

Le Tour

I’ve never cycled in the Tour de France.  In fact, of all the major cycling races I can proudly boast an unbroken 100% record for not having competed in them.  Not many men can say that.  Well, maybe the odd one or two.  Anyway, to continue the theme from the previous post of people who think they are having a hard week, I don’t think Le Tour can be as hard as all that.  I’ve ridden a bike and it wasn’t that difficult, and it’s not like any of them are likely to forget how half way around is it? 

Our daughter can’t ride a bike, her main problem is that her feet don’t reach the pedals, and her hands don’t reach the handlebars, and her balance isn’t that great either.  All in all, not a natural cyclist.  She does however have a little pink push-a-long thing that she sits on and rides.  Again, she is not quite up to self propulsion just yet, and so far I’ve been able to convince her that it is not appropriate to fit an internal combustion engine.  I haven’t yet confessed to her that I am not actually competent to fit an engine, nor could I source one at the speed which she demands.