Is it utility cycling going forty-odd miles for beer? Bicycle was a lot heavier on the way back (oh the merry temptations of Bottleshop). Got wet. Really wet. The annoying thing was that to avoid the worst of the deluge I hid under a tree which mostly didn't work. Then, when I finally resumed my journey, about five minutes down the road, everything was as dry as a bone. If I'd just powered through.
Oh and I fell off which I've not done for ages. Nothing to do with beer. I got the train a few stops from home to avoid some more rain and then, as I left the train station (Purley, more vampires per capita than Romania – fact!), I stopped at the bottom of the forecourt to let a car pass. There's a bit of an odd, steep camber at the junction so the ground evidently wasn't where my brain thought it was when I attempted to put my foot down. Hello sky! No blood fortunately, it's obviously not a place to bleed. Nice big bruise on my butticus maximus. The bike lived, the rack sacrificed its remaining paintwork. My pride is being kept in hospital overnight for observation.
