I met you wild in a snowed up town

This is not a post as such, it's more of a controlled rant. A kind of "get it off my chest" cathartic opportunity to really let rid. Sort of.

Drivers. Or more particularly, drivers who don't look. I commuted today, usual 40 mile round trip, bit of this, bit of that. I counted the number of reflective, hi-viz strips, etc, on my clothing, well started to count. I got bored when I passed 50 (it's the chequer patterns, they all add up). I have three rear red lights, and three white front lights. And yellow, lots of yellow. But they don't know about us, these people, because they don't look in the right places, i.e. beyond the end of their noses. 

Or the tractor driver last Sunday, on his mobile phone who ignored me on the roundabout.

I could go on, but I'm boring myself.

Something must be done.

I could have a herd of wildebeest in front of me, or the hanging gardens of Babylon behind me, it would make no difference. So I promise this is the last time I'm going to complain about car drivers, even though they only get a slap on the wrist of a community service order or a couple of points on the licence. Like the idiot who pulled out of a turning as I was cycling past it.

In other news from the Mendip Rouleur household, I am pleased to say all is well and we can all relax now. If you know what I mean.

Rant over, normal service will resume in two weeks.