P is for...

P is for Puncture: When it comes to most aspects of life, I'm not a superstitious fool. I don't worship the moon or believe a certain number of a particular type of bird means I'm going to win the lottery or die horribly. Yep, I like to think I'm a modern scientific level-headed guy. Why then, if I'm so bloody logical, do I refuse to say the P word when out cycling? It even pained me to type it there earlier. What kind of moron am I (before you answer, I'm many types and flavours of moron)?

Do I think some sort of tyre god (as opposed to the Norse god Tyr [thank you Valhalla]) is going to send forth a plague of thorns should I dare utter the P word? Apparently I do. Apparently I am of the opinion my saying the P word will directly result in my getting a hole in my tyre which allows air to escape. That means two things must be true:

1. I'm extremely egotistical to think I'm so important or magical as to make this mystical tyre rupturing take place with only the utterance of a mere word
2. I'm obviously mental and not in a way people say when they want people to think they're great fun but rather in the manner which means they're in danger of being sectioned

P is for Pee or Pee Pee or Piss or Pish: There are probably other names for urinating which start with a P too. Please feel free to share in the comments section.

Of late it seems I can't cycle for more than a couple of miles without an overwhelming desire to urinate. As I'm not an animal wishing to mark his territory, I fear I may have an over excitable bladder. He's fine when he's in the house but take him out for a day (I mean out of the house not outside my body) and it appears he's a terrible showoff.

I'm not sure if it's the recent spate of cold weather giving my bladder a shock, the caffeine filled tablets which are in the fluid I drink (caffeine barely needs to pass my lips before I've have to make toilet) or simply one of the unpleasant parts of the aging process. Whatever it is, I'm against it. I don't want to be stopping all the time to empty my waste at the side of the road. It's highly unpleasant and rather unseemly. Plus, I don't want to find myself getting in trouble because someone thought I was having a fiddle when I was actually having a piddle (there's another one). P is not for pervert (or anything considerably worse).

P is for Plonker/Pillock: Well, it is if you're Derek Trotter (for the former) or a cliched person from northern England (for the latter).

This grumble relates to an incident when we (myself and my good lady) were out cycling about a week ago. We were passed by another cyclist and pleasantries (ie. 'Hello') were exchanged.

After he passed us, realising we were almost home, I said to 'er indoors 'We've got a few gels and things we didn't use. Should I catch up with him and ask him if he wants them?'. Post affirmative response, I gave chase to offer gels, bars etc. to the gent who had passed us and may have required them more than us. I was catching up with him reasonably quickly until he looked round, saw I was closing and decided to up his pace. Likewise, I increased my speed and bit so I could make the offer. He kept looking round to see where I was and carried on and on increasing his speed as I got closer and closer.

Eventually I couldn't be arsed any more and stopped trying to catch him. Honestly, I don't know if I could have caught him or not at the speed he was eventually going but that's not really the point. I mean, what was he thinking? He obviously only increased his speed so I couldn't catch up with him. Did he think I was trying to race him? I was on a steel framed tourer with mudguards and a rack pack and wasn't on my own. Did he imagine I was going to rush on, leave my lady love behind and try to break him in two with my majestic racing? Gawd knows. What a frigging tool!

I evidently wasn't tracking him with fury and bad intentions. We'd just said 'Hello' pleasantly a few minutes earlier. I just dunno what goes on in some people's heads at times.

P is for Precipitation: Thank goodness I remembered the word precipitation. Previously I had typed Pistulent Weather. Even by my own standards, making words up is contrived.

We were taken for a ride today. That's a poor choice of words. We actually went on a ride today and weren't taken anywhere, unless you count travelling by bicycle as the bike taking us somewhere. Anyway, this taking for a ride isn't of that sort. It refers, instead, to the hilarious lark which is the weather forecast.

As you will know if you read the previous post, I've been going doolally with weather woes. It has been raining pretty much every day recently. Imagine my joy when the forecasts showed today's weather to be white cloud but dry (not normally that exciting I'll grant you). We plotted and planned a route to do today, got our stuff ready last night (I'm like a child on Christmas Eve) and headed out for a lovely cycle today. Well guess what, it pissed down on us and was almost exactly the same weather we've been having almost every day recently; hours of light rain with the odd bright spell.

Oh how the weather forecasters must giggle with their evil games. Ha! The joke's on them. Despite both cyclists (myself and the good lady again) and our bikes getting absolutely filthy (requiring a hosing down and some Muc-Off when we got home) and a few nervous moments on the filthy slippery roads, we enjoyed ourselves while the forecasters were chained up in their weather towers. Up theirs!