We live in surreal times. The world is approaching a state of lockdown. The shops are emptying of toilet paper and hand sanitiser. The Italians are singing from their Juliet balconies. We are encouraged to ‘self-isolate’ at the drop of a, err… handkerchief. Work from home! Wash your hands! Sneeze into your elbow! This is far from normal.
Yet normality is out there…
I ate fresh pasta and pesto last night washed down with a couple of cans of beer. That’s pretty normal. I have, yet again, failed to win either the Euromillions jackpot of that of the National Lottery. That’s depressing normal. And yesterday I had an elongated discussion on Facebook with a local numpty who wouldn’t know a fact if she started sneezing them. That’s frustratingly normal. Oh, and I went for a ride on my bicycle.
It was a familiar jaunt into Halifax and then along the Calder Valley as far as Hebden Bridge at which point it started raining so I hopped onto the train back to Halifax before an even-more-familiar cycle back home along the route of my cycling commute.
43 km in total that took much of the late morning and afternoon. Plenty of short stops along the way; in my mother’s dining room, at The Piece Hall, next to a bridge over the Rochdale Canal, at an over-priced café in Hebden Bridge (£4.70 for a ham and cheese sandwich!) and then on the train… Other than being recognised by a chap who had read my books in Hebden Bridge – I think it was the bike more than me – and then having a conversation with a guy at Hebden Bridge station about Wanda’s performance as an eBike (it’s the Rohloff hub that confuses people), there was nothing particularly remarkable about the day. But the normality of the whole thing was a welcome treat in our currently abnormal world. I can recommend it wholeheartedly. Go for a bike ride!