Someone obviously forgot to tell the weather man that because for the past two weeks it has been cold, I mean really cold.
Before you say I don’t know what cold really is, I do. Five winters in the arctic showed me just how important it is to cover up and not sweat too much, and when a visit to the little boys room becomes unavoidable, then speed is of the essence, especially if you want to keep all your original equipment.
No, it’s been cold because it’s still a little warm. A contradiction in terms I know. But when the temperature hovers between plus five and minus five or so the moisture is still in the air, draining your energy and darting through the heaviest of clothes with a jaunty smile. It’s only when the temp drops further when said moisture freezes. After that provided all the necessary points on the body are covered, ie, the ankles, groin, wrists and the head (the places where all the arteries come to the surface) then one could effectively run around naked if one chose, and the police didn’t arrest you, or a randy moose didn’t mistake you for his next mate.
In fact it’s been so cold that for the first time in about four decades I toyed with the heretical notion of dumping my bike (into the nearest frozen lake) and getting a car. Coming home at night has almost killed me. Apart from the usual line-up of lunatics, the cold is so intense that my tyres never get warm and afford me as much grip as ice skates bolted to my wheels.
But it’s alright now; normal service is to be resumed and my bike is safe. The weather man reports temperatures in double digits for next week. Meanwhile, the next largest commercial channel says that we’re in for another mini ice age. I’m not listening because I’m banking on the BBC being right for the first time in years. The law of averages has to be with them once in a while.