So…this morning’s session on the bikes….
1/2/3/3/2/1/1/2/3/3/2/1/1/2/3
The numbers above do not really do justice to the horror of this session. Best part is always getting off the bike at the end and not being able to walk. What happens then is that we emerge from my front gate onto the road, and attempt a run round the block. Now, I have neighbours that may well witness this every Saturday morning:
“Look, there they are again, Wilfred”
“Yes dear, what do those silly men think they look like?”
“Are they still in all their lycra then?”
“Yes dear, and they all look like they’ve built up quite a sweat round the back of no 210. They’ve got lots of gear, but if they’re this sweaty already they can’t really be very fit, can they? And I reckon I could go faster than that on my zimmer frame”
“No dear – I expect they’ve been up to some other lycra-related activity round the back of the house. What do you think could need such tight clothing, cause such sweating and result in them barely able to move their legs?”
“I really have no idea”
The Emu 