Cycling stops being a joy in winter.
This morning I got off my bike to discover quite a lot of mouse wrapped round the front wheel.
This afternoon I spent four minutes trying to pedal through a hail storm. Then realised that cycling with one hand thrown over my eyes was silly. Plus, I was squealing like a ninny.
Still, it washed the pureed vermin off my trousers.
1 comment:
The one thing that can't be blamed on winter and foul weather is the dead mouse.
Surely?
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