“I hold here, in my mortal hand, a nugget of purest Green”, Lord Percy Percy

The dryest start to a year since records began* has been followed by rain every day since United Utilities declared a hosepipe ban. Lakes that were previously denuded of water to such an extent that the shoreline was practically the continental shelf** are now replete with the wet stuff. Still, prior to arthoscopy on my left knee – coincidentally the one scarred when I was knocked off just over a year ago, draw your own conclusions – we managed to get some fun, and dry rides out in the Lakes.

Of course thirsty plants practically slurped up the moisture and went on a growth frenzy, resulting in greenery of the very greenest.

Rather fab.

Which rides also confirmed that the Hunter is truly the absolute dogs. Recently self-employed status – no skiving off even with a knee that resembles drunk smiley – means I can’t ride with the absolute abandon of those with sick leave, but that didn’t stop it flying round.

It was also nice as a couple out riding together to confuse those men who inflict their hobby on their families*** by riding “the wrong bikes”. To whit the lady has the nice suspension bike and gears and shiny stuff, and his is a hardtail from someone they’ve never even heard of and covered in cack.

The aforementioned biro in the old knee now means no more riding for a few weeks which scuppered SSUK and Kielder 100 for this year.

Ho hum.

* Probably

** Such as can exist within the bounds of Cumbria

*** You know. The sort who ride a 25lb full suspension thing then wonder why the wife and kids aren’t enjoying pushing 35lb lumpen cheap end hardtails with inappropriate tyres and it’s going to be back to the cafe early and uncomfortable silence in the car all the way home and no getting his end away for a week. She’ll blame the inappropriate saddle but you know it’s simmering resentment.