A wet start

This morning, after having a reasonable amount of sleep, I got my bike out of our bomb shelter and prepared to ride it to work. Outside the sky was darkening and the wind was whistling, but I only needed 15 minutes to get to the office.

Except the tyres were flat after my bike being in the bomb shelter for weeks with a constant cycle of heat and cool each day. The bike pump was stuck behind a bunch of cardboard boxes, so I wasted a few minutes wrestling it free, and then for no good reason the pump wouldn’t work until I yelled and screamed at it, but then I had both my tyres pumped up and could clear off out the house.

Combined, those things meant I made it as far as the end of the street before the rain began to fall, and to the bottom of the main road to work when the rain began to come in properly, drumming on my helmet so hard I began to worry if it was hail.

A kilometre into the ride and my shorts were so wet they’d turned a different shade of khaki and were noticeably heavier as I pedalled along. My tshirt, which had been soaked with sweat, was now just soaked. On I pedalled, hoping not to be run over in this zero-visibility morning.

By the time I got to the office I was soaked from head to foot. Never mind, I’d packed a change of clothes in my bag, but that was half soaked as well. I probably got dryer when I took a shower.

And half an hour later, the sun came out and the skies were blue and clear. I’d left too early for the office.

On the positive side, they did have scrambled eggs for breakfast in the canteen today, and when that happens I can’t be mad for too long. Even squelching around all day isn’t so bad when you have eggs.

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