A right pain in the neck

The weather had done what it seldom does and saved the best of itself for the weekend. So, in typical fashion, an awkward nights sleep left me barely able to turn my head, thereby rendering pointless the hope of my first decent weekend outing on the bike. Instead I sat with a morning coffee in the conservatory, reading Alistair Humphrey’s microadventure book, a hot water bottle on the back of my neck following a neighbours advice, generally feeling sorry for myself. I felt guilt at not living up to the sentiment of the paragraphs I was reading, so put the book down, grabbed a bag and set off on foot. Continue reading “A right pain in the neck”