The Little Things…

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Yesterday was a day for the little things. It was the beginning of a long weekend with the help of Worker’s Day and I, as a non-worker for the weekend and the Monday Bank Holiday, was intending to squeeze it of its complete gorgeousness. To help me out, a good old friend came over to stay and I took him out on a very leisurely bike ride that took in two pubs, a countryside filled with sunshine, a group of friendly cycling advocates, and his very own extremely saddle-sore behind. What more could one ask for?

There were times in during the ride that he struggled. He kept slowing down so that he could relieve a cheek, one at a time. There was a moment when he showed a streak of speed to out-pace a very slowly ambling rambler. Bu when it came to the extremely arduous task of sinking a beautiful pint of beer, he was up to the task. This was not once, but twice.

Heroics are important, but stretching them out into self-flagellation is madness. Both he and my wife had me down as a sado-masochistic German tank commander who would push and push and push every  last drop of human-willpower from his charges’ very souls. I now revel in the revolution of my personal recovery.

“Is everything alright, my friend?” I asked from beneath a slashing, yet caring smile.

He gasped something in response which I took for a sign that he was still living.

“You will tell my wife that I have shown concern for your wellbeing, won’t you?”

Again, he gasped.

“And your bottom cheeks are still functioning?”

This time there was a tiny squeal and a facial grimace. I took this for positive.

There were moments on the ride that I appreciated everything that was on my plate.

Descending one beautifully gentle slope, I turned to him (he was drooped over his handlebars).

“I think we will miss each other when we are dead.” 

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It was meant to be a utterance of absolute bromance. He coughed and I understood what he was thinking. 

 

4 thoughts on “The Little Things…

  1. Lovely … the cyclist and runners are all out in force around the lanes which cross cross through our farm boundaries.
    They look ill sometimes, so fervently are they attempting to better their previous times. They make horrified faces when they have to pull over for tractors, the drivers of whom are having to work in glorious weather, because the wind is down hence sprays and fertilisers will not be blown anywhere other than the crop.
    Reading your cycling stories makes me more patient when I drive up behind one nowadays… 🌸

    Liked by 1 person

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