And there are no pictures.
It's absolutely rubbish this grieving malarkey. Gets you at odd times, like driving into work, and late at night when you start looking at Alan Yentob but always end up with Paul Hewson and Kite. Which rhymes appropriately with how I feel.
Sorry to burden you lot, cyberspace with this but how else can I sleep. Still better than Bunny's lot at the moment, and at least I have 100 top U2 tracks from Youtube in my ears as I type. And now I have Beautiful Day, which basically says, life is awful but it's still beautiful. Which is about as much sense as I'm ever going to get out of this at 1AM, GMT, BTW.
I was, I thought, doing well. But actually I was just buffering with business. Or busyness. And now the bandwidth is bigger and all those connections get made in a really raw way, and it's hard. But then, what would she say? In modern parlance it would be FFS, MTFU and get out on your bike.
At a place called vertigo? I can certainly feel that all right, never mind the holes that twinkle, and there is quite definitely no God. Just give me what I want and no-one gets hurt. Really?
Not content with the rain, no, make that the flood, the weather gods are about to chuck cold northerlies, freezing temperatures, and quite probably ice and snow in our direction.
Do your worst, I've had enough of you. My best winter base layer, and fleecy bib-tights can fend you off in concert with my polartec buff.
Thursday I'm riding to work.
OK so I lied. Here's the picture.
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