… that, my friends, was the sound of Winter rushing in early to claim squatters rights in Autumn’s house. Somebody clearly told the planet about global warming since the local response has been to dump about thirteen degrees from the ambient temperature and ice frost onto every flat surface.
My pre-ride analysis of the weather could be summarised thus:”Cold and Clear, good. Minus one, loss of feeling in extremities, bad“. Not quite sure which expensive winter specific cycle clothing to don, I simply wore it all. The first five minutes were still really quite unpleasant, as a chilling northerly sought out and froze any uncovered skin. Since this included my nose and ears, a frantic gloved rearrangement of apparel bolted the stable door but the horse was gone. It also gave me the appearance of a vagrant, festooned as I was with all manner of inappropriate extremity warmers
Dog walkers hastily crossed the street with a desperately whispered “Stay away from that man Zoe, he’s got a handkerchief on his head and a pair of spare gloves taped to his nose”. All that was missing was a shopping trolley and a can of Special Brew.
But cold muscles finally cranked sufficient revolutions to start the body furnace, and a lovely warmth spread across my body and brought a smile to cracked lips. Amazingly clever really; feeling a bit hot, just back off the pedals, now a bit cold? Just leg crank the bellows for a minute and toastiness will return. I was put in mind of Val Doonican, a warm fire and a very poorly chosen jumper.
It’ll be less fun in the dark going home. Warm train to cold platform is something that’s giving me panic attacked flashbacks to last winter. I would have taken the car this morning but I really couldn’t be arsed to defrost it. That task was undertaken about twenty minutes later on my testicles, through the almost forgotten art of a vigorous crotch rub. Still we don’t want any more kids, or, come to that, people to sit next to me on the train.
If it’s this cold now, then summer must just be around the corner. That’s right isn’t it?
Apparently it’s normal for the time of year and has until now been unseasonally warm.
Tell that to my freezing testicules.
What is the correct form of address when discussing the seasonal weather with ones’ testicles? Got to be a load of old bollocks surely 😉
Last night was properly cold. Not helped by either a cold or some London scrote nicking a lung. Still only four months of rain, wind, snow and whinging to go before things improve.